A marathon drive from Preston down to Cheltenham back up to Warwick On Eden and then on to Perth in Scotland, miles and miles on the new clock. The God of Audi would be proud of me. The show in Perth was totally amazing, in a barn at the back of a wonderful house on […]
A marathon drive from Preston down to Cheltenham back up to Warwick On Eden and then on to Perth in Scotland, miles and miles on the new clock. The God of Audi would be proud of me. The show in Perth was totally amazing, in a barn at the back of a wonderful house on the outskirts of Perth itself. Run by two very lovely people the event was full and well promoted. A Deer Hound on the sofa, a fe Highland cattle in the field and a curry pre show, home made. I felt nervous on stage and over thought my part of the evening but Boo as ever managed to balance the scales. The following day we drove back down the country to a very different venue, a village hall in Thorner on the outskirts of Leeds. It was well attended and here is the review.
For the next few nights I stayed in a flat above my good friends shop in Harrogate. It feels gentle and central to most of the venues coming up, so it all made some sense. Peter is a dear person and making home above his Jewellers shop was a gift. There have been many on this tour. Next stop The Met in Bury. The haze machine was stuck on full, nobody could switch it off, so most of the show was spent in a Cliff Richard kind of pantomime hovering just above knee level. A packed house and another nice night before the blade. I felt we were both tired from all the driving and the laughing I expect, but we managed to pull it off with some cadence of excellence. A rare night and day off in Harrogate took em by surprise as I tried hard to catch up on some sleep and not be at the wheel of my space ship, food and friendship made my day easy to navigate. Boo went home on the train, I stayed put.
As I add up the miles and the money from the tour I wonder how things would have been if I had not picked up a guitar or out an advert in a shop window, how would I have survived the slaughter of the everyday, I wonder. I watch people on the streets and hear the sounds of young church followers sinning Christian songs by a make shift cross in the town square, they sing Amazing Grace, its Good Friday. They sing in tune and full of love, I think that could have been me, the cross barer and the church warden, the one who sweeps up the confetti after a wedding. Snipping out the candles on a dark night after a laying to rest. Polishing the organ, on the quite, for the next service. I could have been that man. Had I not placed an advert. I feel so grateful for this journey into heaven, as this is what it feels like, I feel like all the stage haze in the world cant make me feel more amazing than I do this very day of Good Friday. Alone on the end of a very short day here in Yorkshire where the weather is more than just a conversational topic.
Today the last part of this week with a trip to far away Morecambe, where we have sold less tickets than you could sell on a 53 bus. Home is a day away and the arms of lovely Mrs D. Across the moors through the rain, off we jolly well go. Boo on a train heads there by his own steam. Its a grey old Good Saturday and its another two hours in the car from here. A quick shop in the rain, a look into the crystal ball to the following weeks touring and some emails from the sofa. The gig came and went, it was not full and seemed hard work. Up the street Hawkwind played into the night along with others of a similar age and place. I wish I had tickets, I once saw them play at Goldsmith in London the show went on most of the night. We tripped the lights fantastic and crawled home stunned as rats. Those were golden days, unlike tonight when I could only imagine what that feeling would be like. After the show we drove off to Birmingham, on route all was calm, we talked and had radio three on the background. I pulled up at the hotel at the Airport and walked in, only to find hundreds of young people drunk in the lobby. You could cut the air with a sword. I scuttled to my room, a box, and lay there waiting for the noise to come up the stairs to my floor, it did, and I spent a few hours, very tired ones, wondering about my life and was this all worth it. The drives, the venues, some of them, the income and the merch. The Indian meals before the shows, the shit hotels. The time. It is, its what I do, some days are better than others, and some days its just not funny. Hawkwind must feel the same way I’m sure. Hurry on Sundown, see what tomorrow brings.