I left the north...

Although most of the time I can't be doing with London (the self-importance of many of its inhabitants; the grime; the downright rudeness of people in the street; the overpriced crap everywhere; the obscene wealth set against abject poverty), there remains, for me at least, a sense of magic and adventure in travelling down on a Saturday morning on the interminable National Express bus journey to see friends and some bands.

Getting off at Victoria Coach Station, going out the doors and turning left towards Victoria tube is done in doublequick time - you don't want to waste a second, after all.

I sort of love London Underground when I'm on my own, because I have this internal running commentary in my head as to where I should be going or changing, and how many stops there are til I can see some friendly faces in the pub. And, my word, if I aren't ever so pleased with myself when it all goes to plan. Smug isn't the word.

Travelling on the tube with others, however, I don't like at all. There is always a nagging doubt that the route I've proclaimed to the be The Truth will be completely wrong, and we'll end up in Norfolk, or somewhere. This won't do at all, so I prefer to travel alone.

I'll be travelling alone down to the Saturday of the London Popfest in a few weeks, and I'm moist at the thought. Last night the line-up was announced, and although it's not on the website yet, not only are Comet Gain playing, but so are Liechtenstein, which is fabulous news. And so are The Loves and Pete Green's jangly Juggernauts. And some others who I've forgotten, but I'm sure wil be just as dashing.

Anyway, I'll be the one alone on the tube going towards Shoreditch with an incredibly self-satisfied smile on my face. Come and say hello.