Two concerts in, Southampton and Liverpool, and back to the airport. Out of John Lennon to Nice, for the Monaco Grand Prix. Partied Saturday night on a cool Sunseeker in the harbour, even sang a few songs with Eddie Jordan on kit. Stayed in San Remo, near the France/Italy border, driven back and forth several times by Sebastian, who scared three kinds of mulch out of me, roaring up the backside of any vehicle ahead, squeezing through gaps that looked impossible. He was too fast for the public highway, and showed no interest in the comfort of his passengers, so you'd have to mark him down as a poor driver, wouldn't you. Monday morning, dropped off at airport, I asked him what he did for a full-time job, as the chauffeuring could only have been for the Grand Prix weekend. "I'm a test driver for Lamborghini". I'd told him on Sunday that we'd come to watch a motor race, not take part in one. Leaving him, I was a bit lost for words.

From the harbour, as they change up out of the new chicane, they pass at 180mph, from 30 in a matter of about 1.5 seconds. The noise is fearsome. A thunderous roar. A shocking clap. After ten laps I succumbed to the ear-plugs. Not sure they helped much, but it was a thrill to be there as Lewis Hamilton took the chequered flag in what they rate the hardest and most prestigious Grand Prix of all.

Touring is a life of adrenalin-fuelled excitement, so really a lot of rest is needed. But I like to keep moving. So took off to Manchester a day early, on a day off, to see the Gunther von Hagens' Body Worlds exhibit. Now that is really something! His Plastination invention allows him to separate human corpses, skin from muscle, sinew from bone, and exhibit them standing, upright in sprinting poses, or lying, dissected across in six inch chunks. It all seems a little unreal, like plastic. But real they are. It is breath-taking. Astonishing. Caught it during its last few days in the UK. Was half-term, so quite a few kiddies were brought along. But under 14, say, they're too young. How could they ever accept that they are looking at real, dead humans? Surreal.

By the time Holmfirth came around, we were convinced the set was right. I like the rocking segues that fill the first half-hour. Plenty of music, not a lot of dead air. Plenty of memorable nights, with the Indigo2 proving a great rock venue, and a big surprise. And a sold-out Glasgow. Like old times up there.

Tour over. Nowhere near enough dates for me, but it's business, and as my agent would tell you, you can't keep going to the well.....but I want to play more and more, because this band is on fire, and I did like that set very much! Yeh, tour over, but I still keep moving.

To The Haymarket Theater for "Marguerite". Try never to miss Ruthie Henshall. She's a star that shines brighter than any other in the West End. The standards really are not high these days, but Ruthie moves in her own rarified air. It's an unspectacular piece, but I believe it will stay in the memory, with good thoughts. Rehearsed that morning with a different band: the RD Crusaders. These guys come together now and then for Richard Desmond, proprietor of Express Newspapers and OK! mag. to raise funds for Roger Daltrey's Teenage Cancer Trust charity. I took Barry Wickens along and we played, on Sunday, at the Excel, Docklands to a couple of thousand. Barry lead a big band with Zoot Money, Russ Ballard, Simon Townshend, Steve Smith, RD on drums and others (with 3 horns and 3 backing singers) through How Good It Feels, A Friend For Life and Make Me Smile. Barry took the MMS guitar solo. Spot on. Thanks to that, I got myself in OK! mag. for the first time. Would never do one of those cheesy At Home jobs with the family etc. But backstage at a Charity event, that's cool. They raise millions each year for a serious cause, and I'll play with them again. All got organised fairly late, but next time, we'll get a note out on this website - but whether you'd have wanted to be at what was basically a drum convention (International Music Fair, I think it was billed as), with hundreds of them bashing on kits all at the same time, making my head ache backstage, well...Come to think of it, that racket was more difficult to take than the F1 machines shooting past firing cannon a few yards from ear-shot.

Daughter got her Degree. And we are proud of her. Onward and upward, baby. Sort 'em out.

SH