The road is not less traveled in my mind, its a distance between two places the past and the present. Touring is taking shape, and its building slowly. Boo is very good company in the car and we talk for days about this that and the other, its often very funny and hard to concentrate on the directions. I feel like he is teaching me the ropes, how to be on the road and how to be in my story. We are roughly playing to about 150 people a night, in small but manageable venues. He does a half and then there is a break and then we move into our thing, the stand up and sit down show. I love it when I see people reacting to the stories and the songs, I feel like I am gaining more and more ownership of my songs, and me. Its a long old day. Long drives, hanging about in cold dressing rooms, playing and doing the merch at the end of the night, its all so rewarding though. The other morning in a less than glamourous Holiday Inn Express in Preston a kind lady came up to me at the toaster, she asked me if my name was Chris, I said it was. She said she had seen the band in Florida, she also said she wished I would sing more. Well I do. She loved ‘Love Circles’ and so that afternoon Boo and I ran it up the flagpole. I like it too, thank you whoever you were. This morning a lady passed me on the stairs of a less than glamourous Premier Inn in somewhere or other, she said we saw your show last night it was brilliant. I said thank you, she said she loved the stories and the songs, and my voice. Thank you. Its passings like that which make the tour all worth while.

Boo plays a great wing man, he is always so full of life and in the moment of each journey. A seasoned beard. Where have we been? The Folk House in Bristol was a wonderful show, it was full and everyone there became part of the night, by simply lending their ears to the show. I felt so happy when I came off stage, even though the hotel was less than glamourous. David Bailey came along for an Indian before the show, which was inedible. Ice cream after made up for the rough old taste in the mouth. Another great night was at Bishops Cleve, a really good bunch of people, all ears, all eyes, all into the show from the off. Shows close to home have been largely ok, teeth cutting on some nights but nothing to complain about, I’m selling books and CD’s so I cannot complain at all. Oxford was nice, in a big church with a curry in the vestry, Cambridge was nice with some Sushi in the fridge, busy days. As ever being away from home is an issue but there is a balance to be had, its finding it that can often be a challenge.

My head has been full of songs recently, and I sit in bed thinking about the words that I should get up and jot down, but I don’t and the next day they are gone from my head. I feel like I’m being flooded by inspiration, the constant tiredness is lifting me into a drug like fantasy of the lost. They are in there, I know that, and its good to know I can still find myself inspired by new songs brewing not far from the surface of my day. Another album lurks just beyond the steering wheel, just on the pillow by the dusty old bedside cabinet of the less than glamourous hotels. Tonight I have an open fire at Warwick Hall, a favourite of mine high up on the M6. A night off to reflect and to rejoice at the success of the past 10 days on the road. I think the fire is about to go out, rather like my sleepy mind, I need to rest in the grate of another day, in my room by the river where men stand in wadders fishing with rods. The clocks have given us more light, its summer, its spring, its all things. I can see green seeping into the hedgerows, the trees are speaking to me with hope, the wishing sky echoes all those years past, it seems that as one gets older the more it all makes sense, the more it feels like time has a purpose. Although now is all we really have, the past is no longer now, and when we do get to the future, which we all crave, it is then only now after all.

I have been thinking today about my weakness and my tender footsteps in this world and how so grateful I am that I was born this way, because for me weakness bares only strength in its footprint. I want to be the Hummingbird who puts out the fire in the forrest with one drop of water at a time. Not the Hawk who bullies his way around the sky ignorant to the raging flames beneath his wings. The function of freedom is to free someone else after all. In this time of thinking, and of nest building I can nurture the present moment and the weakness of virtue to enable the build of a home. Louise is there, the central pillar of our foundations, as it slowly comes to life one brick at a time. We both fear the elements and reality of a home, but its something that will bring not weakness but strength to the heat of our journey together, not flames but a steady humble cooking of love. This tour helps me in so many ways, it helps me sow my seed in the new day, with its clocks changed with its light, it makes me realise how lucky I have been and how wonderful my life is with or without a fire burning just below my reality. Many miles, many faces and hands to shake, many memories to savour and to hold as I trip into bed with the fire spitting out sparks lighting up my room. Outside the river runs deep as it bends around the corner from the bridge beyond, and the hens in the reeds eagerly await the dawn of a new day. Nests to build, fishing to be had, reeds to wrestle with. The darkness has its own sounds, the seasons shape each sound with mother natures might. A few miles down the road, the M6 and in each direction the next part of my journey as the tour unveils its charm.