“A E Housman said he could recognise poetry because it made his throat tighten and his eyes water. I can recognise jazz because it makes me tap my foot, grunt affirmative exhortations, or even get up and caper round the room.” For those curious to discover the kind of music that made poet Philip Larkin leap around shouting “Yeah, man”, help is at hand.

It's Friday afternoon, the sun's beating down, and I'm kicking back with a cold one in Kongens Have, Copenhagen's oldest and most idyllic park. From the bandstand, the music of Duke Ellington falls mellifluously on my ears, the languorously swinging, behind-the-beat groove of the specially assembled Band Leader Session perfectly suiting the sultry atmosphere. We can't know for sure what heaven will be like, but I'm hoping it'll be something like this.

The BBC just can't stop showing that flipping Lennon Naked drama. No sooner have we emerged from the Fatherhood Season, where it first appeared, than we're into a John Lennon Night on BBC Four, featuring Lennon Naked again under a new temporary flag of convenience.

This month's most interesting new music CDs according to theartsdesk music team includes a dark take on sex and consumerism by The-Dream, which is CD of the Month, "morally ambiguous" South London gangsta rap from Giggs, disco pop from Sia, Scissor Sisters and Robyn, "indietronica" from Grasscut and Tobacco, heritage rock from Tom Petty, immaculate jazz from David Weiss and a compilation of old Colombian dance music. Stinker of the Month is Eminem who is cordially advised to take up religion, get fat or do charity work. Reviewers this month are Joe Muggs, Thomas H Green, Bruce Dessau, Howard Male, Adam Sweeting, Russ Coffey, Marcus O'Dair and Peter Culshaw.

Ladies and gents, the time has come. The Strumpettes are ready and set for Sunday night at Glasto! The tent is packed, along with three pairs of red patent heels, three figure-huggin’ frocks, three retro-style microphones and three beautiful ukuleles (a soprano for Bettina, to match her harmonies; a concert deluxe for me, and a tenor for Velma). The Strumpettes sure don’t travel light.

The truth of it is, we're kinda a high-maintenance band. So I tell ya, the best thing about performin’ at Glastonbury is this: we get to use the “artists’ facilities”, which in short means we get showers and a proper, clean powder room, thank the Lord! I mean really, three classy ladies like us having to face the long drop? I don’t think so. So now the only thing we really gotta worry about is all that mud. Here’s hopin’ for blue skies…

Right now we’re feelin’ pretty positive about it all. We had a rare ol’ time at our gig last Saturday night – after a somewhat inauspicious start, I might add. After drivin’ to the other side of this sprawlin’ ol' metropolis, we found ourselves starin’ at the world’s tiniest pub, on the corner of no-man’s land and the least swingin’ neighbourhood in south-west London. Hell, we were this close to turnin’ back.

And it got worse. When we started settin’ up, we hit upon a little snag. Our little ukes - all courtesy of London’s finest ukulele emporium, the Duke of Uke - each have their own pick-up fitted inside so we can plug ’em in to the sound system and give ‘em a bit of oomph. But no sirree, not today; the DI boxes weren’t playin’ ball, which meant no amplification, which meant we had to play unplugged.

But The Strumpettes are resilient young things, we bounced back and sailed through the first set, mostly of safe songs, coped admirably in the second set where we road-tested our new numbers and even managed our solos – Velma’s “I Wanna be Loved by You”, Betty’s “My Funny Valentine”, and my “Oh, Look at me Now” - without a hitch. And by the time we got to the third set, we were really in the swing o' things; the room was jam-packed and we had every man, woman and child in that place in a good ol’ fashioned singalong to a little tune we stole from Bugsy Malone.

Sure, a glass of whisky each helped no end… as did the lovely locals. They were just plain sweet to us, very appreciative. Hell, they even asked for our autographs, the cuties. But then I guess we oughta get used to that, huh?

So we’re feelin’ okay. Excited I might even say. Velma, Betty and I are just about ready to head on outta the big smoke, into the sticks and to march out onto that festival stage on Sunday night, hip flask in hand. Wish us luck, folks…

Well, folks, only 10 days to go til The Strumpettes hit Glastonbury and let me tell ya, we’re gettin’ a little hot under the collar. It turns out this ain’t some big practical joke that Velma cooked up to give us all a fit o' the vapours. We’re goin’. Next week. And this little Strumpette is quakin’ in her boots.

"It was only on Monday afternoon that the final scores of three of the movements were put into my hands," says Sir Simon Rattle, chuckling at the memory and casting a mock glance of disapproval at the composer and trumpeter Wynton Marsalis who is sitting next to him looking rather sheepish. "It makes us realise that composers are human beings just like we are," the conductor adds. "I'm just praying I get all my tempos right by tonight."

Brilliant though it was to be shooting an Imagine film for BBC One, we did experience the occasional tremor of foreboding about making a programme with Nigel Kennedy. We (that's me and director Frank Hanly) had a bit of previous with Nigel - I'd done several print interviews with him, and we'd shot a couple of short films with him for EMI.

Europe is alive with the sound of music of all kinds through the summer, and here theartsdesk brings you listings of this year's attractions, many of which you can still get tickets for and combine culture with splendid cities and landscapes. From avant-garde dance music at Barcelona's Sonar to deepest Wagner in Bayreuth, this is the unmissable clickable guide to a cultivated European trip.

Europe is alive with the sound of music of all kinds through the summer, and here theartsdesk brings you listings of this year's attractions, many of which you can still get tickets for and combine culture with splendid cities and landscapes. From avant-garde dance music at Barcelona's Sonar to deepest Wagner in Bayreuth, this is the unmissable clickable guide to a cultivated European trip.