Francis of Cumbria
Oct 26 '08
An 800 mile round trip to see Francis Dunnery and take part in his wonderful charity weekend was worth it, despite the car lag and the clocks changing. I drove up on Friday, I left home from Brighton at 11am, I arrived at camp site around 8pm, I was giddy with being in the car so long. Erica greeted me at the doorway of the strange out of the way hostel, a collection of dull buildings built to house and train the workers of the Sellarfield Nuclear plant just down the road. In side the main hall about 80 tables were full of people, his fans, having Turkey and gravy dinners. Francis appeared and gave me huge hug, it was so good to see him and to tuck into some cold Turkey on a table with Dorie and her new band, I'm calling them the Jackson. Upstairs there was a bar, we all sat around and watched some friends play their songs while Francis made an emotional greeting to the weekend. I was moved by the love in the room. But soon it was time for bed and I slipped off like mist beneath the door. My B&B was in St Bees, a few miles away from where everyone else seemed to be staying, but by all reports I had taken the best option. My room, on the top floor of an old farm house was freezing cold, the window had been left open and the heating had been off for some time. I crawled into bed and discovered heated bed sheets, nylon and warm, and with my socks on I fell asleep. Next morning I woke up and cold showered, made my way downstairs for my fry up and toast. I sat with some Swedish people who had flown in to see the shows and be involved in the event, which includes a charity walk and a game of golf. They are part of the FD’s house concert network which is so successful for him. After some hot tea I slid back to bed and watched food programs. In the afternoon I drove up to Egremont Town hall for the sound check where I hung out of old mate Phil and his son Dom. The weather was stupid, 80mph winds and rain, Egremont looked grey and grim. Phil braved the weather to feed us all, and one by one the sound check came and went. It was so good to play with Francis again, its been so long. Being on stage with the Pope is some feeling. The doors opened at 7.30 and first up was Dorie with her band, it was so great to see her standing on her own two, or six, feet, she played well and sang beautifully too. I was so pleased for her. And then Francis took to the stage with his band, who were amazingly tight for only a day in rehearsals, two Paul’s, bass and drums, and Sconner on guitar, who I love he is such a great bloke. Erica on keyboards. The first guest on stage to join them was Phil from Motorhead, he jammed up a storm and came off and shock everyone’s hands like he had just finished a football match. I went on and played two songs, the hall was full of lovely people, all a bit damp looking from the storm but warm in nature. Francis gave me my feet as a solo act, I can never thank him enough for his time and his love, and his understanding of how weird and dark I can be. His words. His playing tonight was out of this world, he is so entertaining and sharp on the guitar, he hits the prog spot with me in a big way. Then it was back in the car for the drive home, in the rain and the wind, the radio was my friend as I took in the news over and over again until I got home at four am, which was really three. I reversed the hands on all of the clocks in my house and fell into bed next to the warmness of love. I hope we stay in touch, we have so much in common, its like we went to different schools together.
Comments (3)
Welsh rabbit- again!
Oct 01 '08
Hurst House is nestled away on the Welsh coast, its where Dylan Thomas was born, he lived and died here and the church has his grave on its hillside. In the hotel there are 19 writers all busy working on new songs, the sun is shining and the inspiration is flowing. Laughter and piano’s can be heard as lunch is being prepared. The food of gods. There are some really great people here, the week is going well, but more than ever laptops are the branches of communication. Over the years laptops have become more and more the third arm of writers on my workshops, being used more so this week for emailing rather than recording. And now i phones are the wear of the day. How trendy we have all become. The songs are turning out great, we have had three nights of performances now and each night I have been amazed by the quality of what has been written. Each day we write in groups of three and in the evening we perform what we have written to each other, its nerve racking and fun. The rooms here are wonderful and the food is good, the countryside is green and wild, Hurst House is working out really well as a writers retreat. Just like Italy, where we normally go, everyone is finding happiness and inspiration for their week. A break from Pasta for the spuds of the cold, cold ground.
Comments (3)
|
