From Wayne: So, the last time I wrote to you about the tour was on an evening off in London when my ever trusty Robin, Graham to you, and I went to the cinema to watch Gone Girl. One thing I neglected to tell you about that particular episode was that I am so used to going to the cinema with Cinthya, my wife, and whilst there we always cuddle up, hold hands, she puts her feet in my lap and I massage them, etc. Well, there was one point during the film that I felt myself reflexively reaching out in the dark for the hand of my wife only to remember at the very last moment where I was and with whom. Now, I love Robin, Graham to you, but I think as much as he wouldve loved my foot massage, in the cinema it wouldve been a step too far, donchathink? Anyway, I managed to stop myself before I embarrassed us both. Habits, eh? It felt very strange going to the cinema with someone other than my wife. And I missed the frozen yoghurt. After Id written my last missive I endured a terrible nights sleep in the hotel, finally getting to sleep after 4am and being wide awake again at 7:30am! I had a relapse with my cold and I felt awful and all on the day of my London show. I called George, my manager, and he arranged for a doctor to come and see me at The Garage, the venue for that evening, during soundcheck. The doc was ushered into the dressing room where I was waiting and I told him of my ailments and problems with sleeping. In the past in situations like this the doc has usually administered an injection of vitamins into my bottom. Now, I dont usually mind little pricks in my bottom when the results are so instantly, ah, recovering so imagine my disappointment when the doc didnt whip his hypodermic out and instead gave me a prescription for antibiotics! Of course my first question to him was, can I drink whilst taking these? to which the certified one replied only a little wine, no spirits. If only he knew. He did also give me some sleeping pills. Result. The London show was a strange one for me. I thought I played well enough but the whole room seemed to lack energy and warmth. I dont know if it was because I was sick and had very little sleep or the audience were too far away, both physically and metaphorically, but the evening just felt a little flat to me. I mentioned this to George après show and he said, what do you expect, its London. You should know by now that London audiences are cool. I have heard this said before and maybe he is right but I cant say that that has been my own past experience. Ive generally found London audiences to be as bonkers as anywhere else. Neither myself or The Mission have ever been the faves of the cool brigade so theyve generally stayed away in their droves. Thank the heavens. My goodness, who, in their right mind, would want to be cool? Its got to be such hard work, hasnt it? And God bless all that sail in her....... Back to the hotel. Sleeper with water, warm bath, to bed and a dreamless 8 hour sleep. Bliss. Suitably invigorated, we stopped for Krispy Kreme doughnuts the next morning. And so, in a prime example of how clueless agents are in routing tours we headed back north, with Robin at the wheel of the Batmobile, to York. Now. Just remember the last show before we played London was to the cackling coven in Newcastle and here we found ourselves driving 3/4 of the way back up the M1 to Newcastle to play in York at the Fulford Arms. I think it should be a prerequisite that every agent before they become an agent should travel the length and breadth of the UK in the back of a transit van with a load of smelly unwashed musicians and a pile of musical equipment. That way they would appreciate the hardships that are endured on the road and would surely be more considerate in routing a tour. Probably not though as there is a degree of sadism inherent in the job of being an agent and Im too damn idealistic for my own good. Anyway, lest you ask, Robin and I are very clean and not smelly at all. I have been known to take 3 showers a day although it is usually only two. And so we arrive at the venue in York and pitched in the back garden was a tent which I presumed was gonna be my dressing room. As it was pouring down with rain I was more than a little relieved when told, no, you have a room indoors upstairs. Shown to the room, I knew it was my room because it had Liverpool stickers and stuff on the door and a football magazine on the couch, I was left to look for the toilet. I found it eventually. In a wardrobe. I kid you not. Which could only be locked from outside. Err, excuse me, Robin, I need use to the loo, could you please lock me in? Ill tell you what though, the facilities at the Fulford were, and are, far more preferable to some of the other backstage amenities that we get to endure. Oh, the glam......more. We have learnt to carry a bucket around with us. Please dont ask. Anyway, the show in York. I entered the stage having fought my way through the land of the giants to perch my little, and un-injected, bottom on my chair to be confronted by quite the ugliest, scariest front row at a show Ive seen since I watched Metallica from side stage. Seriously, it looked like a conference of heavy bruiser bouncers strewn across the front of the stage. And as the stage was only about 6 inches high and I was sat down it felt a little intimidating. Anyway, after about 2 songs I came up with the brilliant plan of asking everyone to sit down. Which, amazingly, they did. Oh, the power I wield. It was like a 60s hippy fest, a sing song around the campfire. Ging-gang-gooley an Michael row the boat ashore. Anyway, from this inauspicious start this show became a 3 hour plus celebration and quite possibly the best show on the tour thus far. More than 3 hours? Yeh! 3 hours. Jeez, its only the Cure and Springsteen that plays for that long and in both cases, unless youre a diehard, it must feel like an endurance test. I daresay that anybody that popped into the Fulford for a quick half of Strongbow and wondered what that evenings turn was like was in for a rude awakening. Play us something we know! is usually the cry. Do you know any George Michael?. Well, as it happens........... Anyway, suffice to say York was a great night, and as well as being a great audience I put the success of the evening down to sleeping pills and finally getting some, induced it maybe, decent sleep the night before. And back to the hotel, a shower, a pill with some water. And a dreamless 8 hour sleep. Its getting to be a habit, this. Next morning, forsaking the Krispy Cremes and instead plumping for the Premier Inns finest veggie sausages with beans and mushrooms. Yum yum. And onto Buckley.......... To be continued.........
Posted on: Fri, 17 Oct 2014 06:14:02 +0000
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