University of East Anglia

There is no motorway in Norfolk. Although this shouldn't make any difference we have three near-death encounters on the way. I get this fatalistic feeling that we will crash. You get up every day and drive. Someday it's going to get you. I tighten my seatbelt.

Something about the venue makes me feel light-hearted (perhaps it's the mere fact of living to see it?). It's a cool room, little recessed dancefloor bit and lots of dark wood. The soundcheck quickly degenerates into "fucking about". I've noticed the Sheds doing some fucking about in their soundchecks lately. They like to play the incidental music from the Pink Panther Show, you know, the bit they use when there's some chasing going on. There is a guilty thrill in playing really embarrassing things very loudly. Our track of choice is "Another brick in the wall". For the best effect you should try to play it as badly as you can, but passionately, school band-style as if you absolutely love it. In the far distance I can see Tony pursing his lips. He has seen it all before, done it himself on occasion, and furthermore has personally received a free t-shirt from a friend who works as a promoter there on Fridays.

Even better than this, there are pool and football tables next to the dressing rooms.

For those of you who are interested in what the actual gigs are like, buy a fucking ticket.

Day 21 – 20th October

Day off, London

Day 22 – 21st October

Brookes University, Oxford

Hubris, my friends. Pride. Arrogance. Conceited self-delusion. I am guilty of all of these. A few days ago I was strutting around, cock o' the walk, as well as could be, like Florence Nightingale without the sympathy, as my colleagues ailed around me. Did I care then? No. Did I consider their condition a childish indulgence? Yes. Am I about to get my comeuppance? Yes. (Although now I look at it, 'comeuppance' sounds like it might turn out to be quite nice).

I am ill. My throat is sore, my limbs ache, I'm hot and cold. I truly am more ill than anyone else has ever been. Certainly more ill than the rest of the band were when they were ill. I should be very surprised if I live to see the morning. But I won't complain, no. I will be brave and work hard, get the job done, and although a greasy sweat may stand upon my forehead, no one will know of the secret torment I have endured. I'll… just… sit… down here… for a minute, … do a… bit of…….. whimpering….

Day 23 – 22nd October

Cardiff University

I've been thinking. Perhaps 'comeuppance' is something like 'two penn'orth'. Tonight's dressing room is three floors above the venue, which is very difficult for a man in my condition. But I'll struggle on. You won't hear me complaining.

After the gig we resolve to do something special because it is our last night of staying away. However it is pissing down in a way that reminds me of our journey to Aberystwyth, so we eschew the sodden queue for 'Liquid' nightclub ("this is the erection section, where the guys take a dance, for the chance …. of romance") and take refuge in a Portuguese restaurant which proves to be rather wonderful. It's not the most rock'n'roll way to 'cut loose' and 'go apeshit', but then we're not the most rock'n'roll people. We're just a tup'ny ha'p'ny band of happy-go-lucky musical misfits a-tryin' to sing our simple songs, to catch us a snag in the hearts o' the honest folk who in their turn are a-toilin' along this great road o' life, the M4.

Day 24 – 23rd October

Bristol University

I got the fever today. Venue feels like it's a swimming pool, it's so muggy and close. It turns out the venue is a swimming pool.

The part we are playing in the vital work of publicising pasties (www.Pastonbury.co.uk) has caused much hilarity on the part of the crew, especially Crazy Richard the lighting guy. As we take the stage, we discover that they have thoughtfully provided us with a large Ginsters sign, presumably stolen from a luckless pasty outlet.

If this was meant to embarrass us, I can say that we were unaffected. I am proud to be affiliated to such a worthwhile cause. I only hope that they take us up on our suggestion that our CDs should be released in pastry covers.

Day 25 – 24th October

Day off, London

Got some coughing done today. I'm not complaining, though.

Day 26 – 25th October

Pyramids Centre, Portsmouth

Me and Matt and MVB grew up near here. Boy, it's good to be back in Portsmouth. How y'all doin'? I said HOW Y'ALL DOIN??!!

Poor Ben is suffering from Consumption, and is like to die. He's brave though, the poor little mite. He won't let no one see the suffering that is wracking his body. He never thinks to complain, he knows it is his lot. Ah, tis a wondrous sight to see that boy take up his electronic guitar and rock Portsmouth despite his corrupted lungs, the death-pale flowers that bloom in his cheeks when he tries to hoist his harmonies high above the others. Truly he is a little angel sent from heaven, but alas heaven is where he belongs. Hide your tears, child. Tis to a better place he'll be going.

It's a small world. A very old acquaintance from school left his card for us with a security guy. He is now an undertaker.

Day 27 – 26th October

Leas Cliffe Hall, Folkestone

It's a fantastic venue - I guess it must have originally been a ballroom. You come down a swishy staircase to a great room tastefully done in blues and copper with a beautifully polished wooden floor. It kind of makes you want to dance. Nice to know that by the end of the night it will be completely covered in beer.

The hall is built into the side of a hill that looks out over the sea. The dressing rooms are very quaint. You can imagine putting on your make up for a production of some Agatha Christie play here. There is something magical about the place, and the gig is unusually enjoyable for both bands. The Shed's crew afterwards are all saying it's the best they'd ever seen them. Too bad we'd slipped out for pizza…

Day 28 – 27th October

Brixton Academy, London

So. Here we are at last, at the end of the tour. It reminds me of that They Might be Giants song … what's it called again? Ah yes, "The End of the Tour". And that means it's the End of the Tour Diary too. What can I say? It's been a pleasure meeting you. I hope you can understand why it's turned out the way it has. I hope you're not disappointed. Some things just end, and you have to accept that for what it is. We'll still have our memories, and I promise I'll write….

Brixton Academy. Perfect for the south-London based musician – not too far to get home. Funnily enough, the four of us have actually played Brixton Academy before, long ago in another life, as the prize in a competition. I remember at the time vowing that we would one day return here in our own right, and although it's been a long time coming, here we are again, the 45s, hot new band on the make. They're older than they look, you know. ("The album of Dorian Grey").

It's a big place. The stage is hilarious. In a way the soundcheck is better than the gig, because you have time to relish the fact that it's just you standing on a giant stage, playing guitar, and it's really fucking loud. It takes seconds for the sound to hit the far wall and come back to float down on you like a guitar blanket. If only Mr Sound City could be here to enjoy it with me… Yes, it's been a long journey, and we've lost many good friends on the way. But we have got a stereo in the van now, and that's a gift that's going to keep on giving.

There is something special about the gig, but it's not extraordinary. On these big occasions you would normally expect some disaster to befall you; something breaks, or Matt's voice goes, or there's a fire which clears the venue before you go on, but tonight it feels like the process is so familiar that everything finds its groove immediately and trundles safely on as it has for the last sixteen shows. When you look around the stage, it's just you four, the same as always, you are the ones making the sounds, and it's the same whether it's the rehearsal room or the empty Roadmenders bar or the heaving Brixton Academy. We're coming to the bit in Sundial where I watch Matt VB for the count into the bridge. I know Steve and I are going to come in in four bars' time. I know Matt's going to make it to the end of the set. It's fine, it's us. We know what we're doing.

There are 2,900 people out there. Some of them are talking, some of them are hating it, some are listening, some are loving it. It's the real thing. Who knows if this is the last time we'll play here, or if we'll be back many times? I wouldn't want to guess. But we're pretty good, you know. If you get a chance to come and see us, I reckon you should.