Good night last night watching Danny Fantastic's new jazz combo play their debut gig. First time I've actually heard him play his sax - and he's good. Particularly pleasing that he failed to keep it together during the closing reggae version of a Mingus classic (at least I think it was - but my jazz knowledge is poor).

Unfortunately with Dan's impending cycle path cycle to India (yes, two wheels all the way), it seems like it's the only set they'll ever play. Stories will be told in hushed voices of the Rhythm Centre sax man who wowed the lucky two dozen brave enough to venture to a little basement bar in Stoke Newington, and then disappeared, never to be heard blowing his horn in public again. (Until he comes back, of course). And we finished the night eating in a Turkish cafe in a borderline dodgy area at one in the morning, discussing Scientology. Only in London. Or Istanbul, of course.

Also, why do people say "I could care less" when what they actually mean is that they couldn't? Presumably the saying had its original meaning (i.e. that it would be possible for them to care less than they actually did, that they actually cared quite a lot), but some lazy people thought it sounded cool, and the fact that they ended up talking nonsense was an acceptable price to pay. Don't cite evolution of the language. It's not going to wash. These people should be stopped.

And if this post seems a little lacklustre, it's because I'm not writing what's on my mind. But that's maybe just as well because, as Jane once remarked, throwing up on a public street may provide instant relief for the one doing the chundering, but in the long run things rarely work out for anyone.