I’m in Charles de Gaulle airport, about to get on a plane to Amsterdam. It’s week 5 of the Bryan Ferry tour and the end is just about in sight. It’s been great, but after this amount of time touring begins to take on a strange hypnotic quality as the days, venues and bottles of wine begin to blend into each other. Playing the set every night has never got boring though – it’s always a challenge and there is a good balance of discipline and freedom. One of the very admirable things about Bryan is that, even in the heat of the moment, he can pinpoint and remember very subtle elements in the music that he wants to change, which get addressed in soundcheck the following day, so every night is a bit different. That’s the discipline bit (along with the fact that a lot of the songs have completely bonkers chord structures, and trying to change guitars between songs in a hurry without falling over). The freedom bit entails trying to keep the improvised solo sections fresh, while remaining true to the emotion and melody of the song. A bit like walking around a statue finding new angles to look at it from. It’s particularly good when you’re able to channel emotions that have built up during the day into the playing; the audience always seems to pick up on that somehow. A definite highlight so far has been the Royal Albert Hall show. There’s just something about the place that, despite being imposing, is indescribably calming and benevolent. Often London shows are particularly fraught but this time everyone was relaxed and on top form. It occurred to me at one point that I couldn’t be sure when (or if) I’d be playing there again, so I’d better enjoy it.

It is a bizarre existence though. You are rendered something of an overgrown child, being cooked for, told exactly where to go and when, spoilt really, then plonked down when it’s all over wondering why you’ve forgotten to pay the bills, and how to cook pasta. One of the great pleasures of the tour has been listening to Andy Newmark and Chris Spedding, two legendary players, talk about their experiences and how they have navigated their way through the twists and turns. Andy was saying one night how he always assumed he’d stop playing drums at some point and do something ’sensible’, and it’s only now in his 50s that he realises he’s probably doing the job for life. Chris nodded and said “I know, disgusting isn’t it”.

I nipped home for a couple of days between gigs to work on the new King Creosote album, which is being produced by my old schoolfriend Jon Hopkins. This entailed both laptop guitar sounds and dusting off my bouzouki, mandolin, and a knackered 12 string that I bought off a busker years ago. The music is absolutely beautiful. Working with Jon is always an interesting experience. He is both an exceptionally expressive classical pianist and a devious programmer, so the guitar parts we work on are painstakingly worked out – one minute we’re gabbing away about music theory and the next considering how loud a certain note should be played in context to deliver the right feeling. Pretentious but effective. I also signed my record deal with Mercury. As I sat in a small glass office committing to all this I wished I’d hired a trumpet player to do a fanfare or something – these moments don’t come along too often. I did go and buy some champagne though. And loads of new studio equipment. And a new guitar. A really good management company have said they want to represent me too, so once this tour is over I’m looking forward to pressing on with the next part of the journey.