If you have a studio, with a website, or even just a sign on your door, or really, anywhere that lists your opening times, then you would be well advised to make sure your studio is open at something close to those times. And at the very least, if it isn’t, you might stick a sign in your window to explain that.

Living Image in Greenwich don’t seem to feel they need to bother with such basics as that, the dozy fuckers. I showed up there at 1pm, an hour after their listed opening time (on both the website and the door) and they were shut. “Fair enough” I thought. “Maybe the trains are being a bastard, and they’ll be along in a bit.” So I waited about for a bit, encountering 2 lads who, like me, were along to book an appointment, and one slightly addled chap who said he’d popped along to get a barcode done. Or may just have been high. He certainly admit to serious drug use when younger, and I’m not entirely sure he’d given them up.

Alarmed by the slightly addled chap who would not stop talking to me, I decided I go and get lunch, and then pop back, hoping that he’d be gone, and they’d be open. A fryup and a pint later, I returned at about 3 pm. He was gone, buy they were still shut. So I fucked off to Into You, instead, where I now have an appointment for Tuesday 24th June. (Must book afternoon off.)

All in all, not terribly impressive – that’s two hours out of my day they wasted by not having any sort of sign anywhere obvious that they were going to be closed today. Still, they lost my business, and that of at least two, possibly three, other people today, so I guess what goes around comes around.

I am sure I’m supposed to be doing something this weekend. I just can’t remember what. Can anyone remind me? Or failing that, and assuming I don’t suddenly remember what the hell it is, is there anything interesting going on?

I am rewatching Star Wars: Send In The Clowns, for what might be charitably called “research” purposes. This is painfully fucking awful. Really, really, fucking offensive. And I’ve got the third one to watch yet. I hope my memory is right, and it is slightly better than this…

Never let it be said I can’t take a hint when I’m battered about the head with it. That’s the third time in a fortnight I’ve dreamed about a tattoo I’ve been planning in a vague “well, I know I want it, but there’s no great rush” way for a couple of years. I woke up this morning, looked down at my leg, and something was missing. That’s the point at which I’ve got my other tattoos in the past.

One of the reasons I’ve been putting it off a bit, though is that well, there’s fuck all for the artist to do. It’s a simple Sephiroth design, in black. (The sephira are just going to be empty circles (barring two, one which will have an X through it, and the other will be just a dashed outline) rather than being filled with colours and the paths joining will be blocks of black ink. I have a strict policy of getting monochrome tattoos.)

I kind of feel that turning up with such a geometric outline design is going to be, well, fucking boring for the artist and/or an insult to their talent. Am I just being stupid here? People who know tattoo artists better than me: are they going to hate me, or are they going to be happy with a simple job in exchange for cash? Anyone got anywhere they’d particularly recommend, or should I go with the default choice of Into You?

Home rather earlier than expected from part one of Parental 60th Birthday Bash number 1, lunch at Atul Kochhar’s restaurant, Benares.

I can wholeheartedly and unreservedly recommend it. 45 quid a head (including tip) at lunch for aperitif (rather nice gin-and-mint cocktail) three courses, coffee, and some rather nice wine. And, most importantly, really, really good food.

Sufficiently good, in fact, that I had the vegetarian option (I have been in an uncharacteristic not-eating-much-meat sort of mood for the last week or so) and frankly, think I came out ahead on every course. I could have done with another slice of Aubergine in the Aubergine steak and spring green puree that was my main, but that’s the only criticism I have of the whole meal. The tandoori broccoli with chilli and tomato chutney I had for a starter was easily the finest broccoli I have ever eaten – cooked to perfection, and perfectly spiced. To die for.

I suspect that Saturday lunchtimes may well be their only quiet time (and even then, by 1:30, the place was three quarters full), but it’s well worth the trip. I’ll be going back. One of the nicest and most interesting meals out I’ve had in ages.

Last night’s Nick Cave gig was ace, if slightly plagued with technical troubles. “We Call Upon The Author” was particularly amazing live.

My observation, and I know it’s hardly news: for someone whose lyrics are so important to his songs, Cave’s not half dreadful at remembering them, even when he’s got prompt sheets to hand.