Right, Monday morning. How do I feel about the world? Well surprisingly good. But I bet we all are today. Collective moods are funny old things. I am quite sensitive to them, and after this weekend I get the feeling spirits are generally high.

Of course, I know the real reasons I am not desperately miserable today. I had a gig this weekend, went really well, had loads of fun and got paid. And when there is money in my wallet and the mortgage is paid for another month, I am relatively free of stress and usually on pretty good form. So now is a good time to ask me for favours. Not the sexual kind, I’m not sure what kind of mood I would have to be in to go there. Probably never happen actually, seeing as I’m married and that.

So yes it was a good gig. Not huge amounts of people, but those that were present hung about for the 5 fairly self indulgent hours I played. Tune of the night definitely goes to Seiji’s amazing remix of Erykah Badu’s ‘Honey’. An amazing return to form for Paul, it is summery (as in summer-like not like a summary), it’s danceable, it’s technically interesting but most of all, it’s fun! When you try to DJ with emotional peaks and troughs, I usually leave all the happy stuff until ‘Classics Hour’ at the end, but with an unusually long set from me, I had to introduce some other peaks, as the endless middle dark, nerdy or depressing sections could have induced mass suicide. I doubt the authorities in Middlesbrough take lightly to musically enhanced death pacts in their nightclubs. But big thanks Joe Minns and Neil Fat Dog and all the crews that came and supported. It were a reet laff.

I’m struggling to come up with anything particularly deep or meaningful today, as I feel pretty content with life. My art comes when im struggling and\or depressed. As I have noted before, smiles breed smiles, and when you are up, everyone around you seems buoyant and full of beans. As I look out of my window to the young offenders that dwell around the old primary school for their ‘rehabilitation’ classes, I notice even as they smoke crack and rob the elderly that they have a certain twinkle in their eyes that says “I’m happy with my lot”. The sun has got his hat on, presumably of an astronomical heat resistance unknown to man as of yet, hip-hip-hip hooray.

Something humorous I discovered in Middlesbrough was that they have a snack called a Parmesan, which I found hysterical. From what scant info I gathered, it seems to be chicken based, although pork or beef ones would be possible, covered in breadcrumbs and filled with cheese. And not even Parmesan. Any cheese will do, sung to the song from Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Parmo. These things are called ‘Parmos” for short, and seem to be restricted to the ‘brough, and anywhere further than 20 miles outside it’s radius deems them the work of Satans own private guard. Of paedophiles. It sounds like a chicken kiev to me, without garlic as I assume in Middlesbrough it is considered a race crime to eat anything foreign. I will of course never witness the culinary delight of the Parmo, what with being a tree hugging, loony-lefty, arty-farty vegetarian. Note the highlight on farty. I didn’t dare pipe up and announce this fact though, partly because even the woman that was drunkenly describing it to me could have beaten me up. They are a hard race up there, and don’t take kindly to southern nancies like me flauncing about with my liberalism, jazz fusion tendancies and pointy brogues.

So till next week, by which time I will have returned to my normal, morose self, take care. Oh and if you get time, buy a track from HERE COMES TREBLE on itunes, available from today. COME ON YOU SLAGS, SUPPORT THE CAUSE!

Thank you, love to you all till next week.

(p.s this is a Parmo)