We awoke early on Thursday to ensure that we didn't miss out on breakfast from Dino's Grill as we had done the previous day. Arne had his doubts as he was convinced the coffee was instant (the horror!) but I couldn't resist the pre-buttered toast and Dave had The Hunger in his eyes, so we battered through a quick fry-up then headed underground to Baker Street. We were surprisingly early so we popped round to the park (Regent's? I can't remember) to watch the birds and get harassed by an over-eager squirrel. Seriously, this one was a hustler. When we left the park we witnessed it diving, springboard-style, off a bench into someone's bag, frantically looking for...nuts, I guess...

We were back at the Night And Day in Manchester for the evening, and the gig went fairly well. The stage was positively palacial in comparison to the previous nights' soapbox. We were due to spend the night in the Cobden View pub in Sheffield, courtesy of Grant's pal Richie. We were advised to ignore the satnav machine and instead take the ridiculously titled "Snake Pass", which was like driving in the Twilight Zone. I've been less buffeted at Alton Towers. When we descended from the mist into Sheffield proper it was pushing one o'clock, and we all piled in to meet Richie and Laura, and get to bed. Although it didn't quite work like that, and after a few pints and a large amount of poor pool playing, my attention turned to the jukebox. I was surprised to note that both The Law and Luva Anna were in the top ten most played tracks (the influence of Dundee is indeed pretty far-reaching). I finally hit the sack after promising to put my ex-chef skills to good use in the pub the next morning...

My alarm went off at 09:30 and I promptly switched it off. I was awoken a few hours later by Dave notifying me the shower was free. I dozed for a further ten minutes, but was shocked and disorientated upon walking into the packed living room to be notified it was infact two in the afternoon. How could this have happened? I could only surmise that we really had driven through the Twilight Zone the previous night, so decided to go with it and see what happened. My offer of cooking seemed pretty lame in light of it being after lunchtime already, so I grabbed some bacon from the pan that Laura had put on many, many hours before, then headed to the Nottingham House which was the location for the evening's gig. Kas was pleased to just have few channels to play with, and we piled the amps and drums into the raised enclave and set about working out who was going to play what. There was some talk of Gill hitting the overdrive ukulele ("with delay on it it would be mental") but this was halted by the arrival of a table laden with the house speciality homemade pies. And these pies were certainly worth halting for. Richie explained that they had decided just to do one thing on the menu, but do it really well, which they certainly acheive.

Couple the pies with excellent hospitality and a supply of free beer, and we had the most relaxed and fun show of the tour so far. It was great to have a relaxed night, and Kas did a sterling job getting everyone up to dance and mixing in comical fashion (waving his arms meant "hit the drums harder"...). Afterwards we spent a good few hours drinking in the beer garden and everyone seemed to be revitalised. We met some interesting people, including the self-proclaimed Best Frontman in Sheffield ("you ain't heard me sing Wild Thing..."), a gentleman who had just bought an off-licence that day and was carrying round a bag of his own stock ("I've just bought me own offy! I'm gonna got fucked tonight!", which is a pretty short-sighted management style if you ask me...), Vic and Kim who had us in stitches all night (and reappeared later on the tour in Nottingham - taking first prize for effort), and Richie was off (ish...if you can ever be off in your own pub) so could actually join us for a few before we all headed back to the Cobden for s

Everyone was feeling back up to speed on Monday when we headed to Glasgow for the gig in King Tut's. It had been a good while since we last played here, right back at the end of last year with Peggy Sue and The Pirates (arr-har!). It's a funny place, mainly because it has such a reputation and significance in the Glasgow music scene. Everybody has heard of it, but in the cold light of day you realise that it is just a small room, with a stage, a P.A. and a vaguely sticky floor, much smaller than you have it pictured. However there is a weight of expectation that you put on yourself to do something memorable on the stage, and it makes for a highly energetic evening. The night was opened by The Sparrow and the Workshop, who were really very good (and who will be playing with ourselves and Eagleowl in November at the Bongo Club…shameless pluggery…). They were followed by my ex-flatmate's new-flatmate's band Call To Mind, who were interestingly attired in what appeared to be matching lab coats, and played a proggy set reminiscent of late-era Floyd to a good reception from the home crowd.

We played through the new "longer set" which seemed to flow pretty well and then dived into the van for a quick boost to Manchester and two overcrowded "family rooms" which we piled into at about half three in the morning. The next (same) morning was marred by a lack of time for breakfast (sleeping in seemed like the thing to be done at the time, coupled with the fact that Little Chefs are overpriced shite), so we high-tailed it to London for load in at the Luminaire on Kilburn High Road, and the promise of free sandwiches. The Luminaire was a good venue, and I particularly liked the signs up stating "If you talk during the bands we will tell you to shut up, this is a venue not a pub", which should be adopted everywhere (along with my personal pet hate "Don't answer your phone on the bus/train and say I'm on the bus/train". The world would be marginally better for it…). We were early so had a little extra time in soundcheck to get everything sounding tickety-boo (?) on the stage and then went off for a curry (again with the healthy options…). The gig went well, and some of us settled in the bar downstairs afterwards for a celebratory pint before myself, Dave and Arne headed back to our long-suffering friend in Brick Lane's house for a nightcap and some Davidoff Platinums (wooo!).

It was an early start the next day for a variety of meetings designed to determine whether or not we will be working in the legendary McD's for the next five years (plus side – free burgers...), before an exciting trip to the Levi's store to collect some freebie apparel for the evening's gig. We then moved on to The Macbeth in Hoxton for load in. We had been told that this place had a pretty small stage, rumours which were immediately confirmed upon entry through the side door. As the night was being filmed for one of those late-night Channel 4-type shows, the stage was packed with lights, smoke machines etc. leaving about three square feet for everything else (instruments, the band and so on…). By some miracle of contortion and exhalation, we did manage to squeeze everything on, Dave playing right on the edge of the stage with Grant behind him ready to push him back on if he fell off. I literally had my back to the wall which was good for my posture, at least. It was then upstairs for some humourous shots of everyone being…ahem…spontaneous ("I don't want to give you any ideas but last night Foals had a big fight as soon as we turned on the camera") This was a new experience for us, and one which will presumably get less awkward-feeling the more we do it, and it was useful to get a taster of it anyhoo. We headed off for tea with a sense of foreboding ("what if, like, the whole stage just collapses or something?") but this was appeased by a Thai stir-fry, and before we knew it it was time to squeeze back in and go for it. The lovely camera people ha

We arose early on Thursday to make our way from Inverness to Ullapool for the ferry to Stornoway. After a quick and horrible pit stop at McD's for a bacon roll and standardised coffee, it was a quick drive trans-highlands to the driech and damp west coast, where Davie stocked up on over-the-counter medications for his solidified neck (which was giving him a comical robotic appearance) and the rest of us sat in the van watching the rain. It takes twice as long to get to Lewis as it does to get to France, so it felt like quite an adventure when we got on the boat. I made straight for the cafeteria and got tucked into my Hobbit-esque "second breakfast", a monstrous plate of meat and eggs complete with Stornoway black pudding and a free cup of coffee, then made it upstairs to recline and look at the waves coming up over the front of the boat from the treacherous and boiling Minch.

Stornoway has a different feel about it to any of the other towns on the other islands I've seen – it's like a real outpost, built round the harbour, nice but a little bleak in the drizzle and somewhere that you feel would "batten down the hatches" for the winter, and a completely different feel to the Scotland I know, the central belt. The signs are all in gaelic and the fishing boats are lined up in the harbour getting ready to take another beating from the Atlantic. When we find the venue, the Woodlands Centre in the grounds of Lews Castle, it is operating as a bustling tea shop, the cake is flowing freely and it isn't immediately apparent how this is going to be transformed, "Stars in Their Eyes" style, into a setting for live music in just a few hours at five o'clock. Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be…

We left Hutch, the travelling PA master, to puzzle over the logistics of the all-glass room, and went to check into our hostel for the night, the homely Heb Hostel which I would recommend to anyone who finds themselves this far west. With some trepidation we noted that all the other beds in the place were booked out by Nairn High School, but luckily as there were 8 of us we had a dorm to ourselves. When we returned to the Woodlands Centre, it had been magically converted into a venue, with an "intimate" stage area (I was sitting amongst a collection of plants, which coupled with the glass walls did give a weird feeling of playing in the jungle). Arne, Rory and Jamie went off to BBC Radio Nan Gaidhael (excuse the probably atrocious spelling) for a quick live acoustic session and some promo for the evening, while the rest of us grabbed a Chinese takeaway (from the surprising cosmopolitan restaurant selection available in Stornoway – starting to sound a bit like a tourist guide now…) and had a listen on the wireless.

The gig itself was pretty good, quite busy as well which was nice as the venue seemed a little out-of-the-way for passing trade. 'Mon the gaelic radio… We packed up sharpish and made our way to a licensed tavern near the harbour for a "wee cheeky", which quickly turned into a cheeky couple, and with the late arrival of Hutch and Tash, having just gotten the PA and desk safely stowed, into "one for the road". It was only when we got back to the hostel that our consideration turned to the fact that we were to arise the next day at 05:50 to get organised for the ferry. When I say next day, I do of course mean, by this time of the proceedings, the same day. Luckily Arne took our mind off of this grim truth by producing a bottle of red from his bag of tricks so I shambled down the stairs for some glasses and we all slept the sleep of the dead.

The "next day" was a bit of a toughy, what with the early start and the phenomenally cold shower, but the thought of another full breakfast on the ferry kept the morale up. Once this was consumed I retired to a reclining seat and promptly fell asleep, waking up some two hours later with Ullapool in sight and drooling on my unknown neighbour. We met Dougie, who had done a tremendous jo