Tour Postcard 2: Edinburgh (1)
Mon 7th August, 2006
dear Jenny,
The words "day off" in a tour itinerary may make the novice musician's heart leap in expectant joy, as they imagine a day which doesn't consist of endless soundchecks, dismal support acts, inedible riders and so on. Sadly, the words "day off" usually conceal far more unpleasant and fearsome activities, such as the dreaded "travel day". I know it's ridiculous for me to whine about an 8-hour bus journey when I've got a 14-hour plane journey coming up tomorrow, but as you know, if I have a chance to whine, I usually seize it with both, uh, lungs. We brazened out several miles of tailbacks on the M6 in searing heat, while attempting to watch "I'm All Right Jack" starring Ian Carmichael, Peter Sellers and Richard Attenborough on the in-van DVD player. The soundtrack oscillated wildly between inaudible dialogue and deafening clangs, whistles and music, which had Andy diving for the volume knob every 10 seconds, Paul shouting "can you turn it down, for chrissakes" and the rest of us rubbing our heads in weary frustration. In the end the combination of heat and intensely focussed concentration led to scenes like this, which I've avoided putting in the body of text in case it makes you scream. Be warned.
There was an enormous cheer as we crossed the Scottish border, the cheers eminating mainly from Alyssa and Andy, who are of course both Scottish and were mentioned in a recent feature in a Scottish daily newspaper with the headline "Scotty Politti". Alyssa began to make up a song on the spot, along the lines of "Oh Scotland, my home, my beautiful home, how grey your skies are, but still, it's nice to visit occasionally." We stopped at a petrol station, and got out of the van in our shorts, many of us stripped to the waist, to be confronted with Arctic temperatures, driving rain and an unappetising selection of Ginsters produce, which to be fair I can't really blame on the Scottish.
The weather brightened, and we took the scenic trail to Edinburgh via scenes of breathtaking beauty which I didn't really see because I was facing Andy, who, nice as he is, could not really be described as breathtakingly beautiful. He certainly didn't offer up hedgerows flecked with purple and a gorgeously undulating landscape, although I believe he's working on it. We arrived in Edinburgh at about 8pm, and stood in a disgustingly bedraggled cluster in the hotel reception, with noses being turned up at us by guests who'd come to this very hotel in order to get away from smelly men with greasy hair wearing unkempt leisure clothing. We all got dressed up nicely and went for a curry up the road, where we were serenaded by deafeningly loud Indian classical music on sitars and tablas. To their credit, they let Ralph have a go on the tablas. To Ralph's credit, he looks fantastic sitting on a posh chair in a posh hotel.
Now I've got to write 500 words for the Independent about technology, and I'm wondering if they'd accept 500 words on being on tour, because I've already done about 600 here, look.
The words "day off" in a tour itinerary may make the novice musician's heart leap in expectant joy, as they imagine a day which doesn't consist of endless soundchecks, dismal support acts, inedible riders and so on. Sadly, the words "day off" usually conceal far more unpleasant and fearsome activities, such as the dreaded "travel day". I know it's ridiculous for me to whine about an 8-hour bus journey when I've got a 14-hour plane journey coming up tomorrow, but as you know, if I have a chance to whine, I usually seize it with both, uh, lungs. We brazened out several miles of tailbacks on the M6 in searing heat, while attempting to watch "I'm All Right Jack" starring Ian Carmichael, Peter Sellers and Richard Attenborough on the in-van DVD player. The soundtrack oscillated wildly between inaudible dialogue and deafening clangs, whistles and music, which had Andy diving for the volume knob every 10 seconds, Paul shouting "can you turn it down, for chrissakes" and the rest of us rubbing our heads in weary frustration. In the end the combination of heat and intensely focussed concentration led to scenes like this, which I've avoided putting in the body of text in case it makes you scream. Be warned.
There was an enormous cheer as we crossed the Scottish border, the cheers eminating mainly from Alyssa and Andy, who are of course both Scottish and were mentioned in a recent feature in a Scottish daily newspaper with the headline "Scotty Politti". Alyssa began to make up a song on the spot, along the lines of "Oh Scotland, my home, my beautiful home, how grey your skies are, but still, it's nice to visit occasionally." We stopped at a petrol station, and got out of the van in our shorts, many of us stripped to the waist, to be confronted with Arctic temperatures, driving rain and an unappetising selection of Ginsters produce, which to be fair I can't really blame on the Scottish.
The weather brightened, and we took the scenic trail to Edinburgh via scenes of breathtaking beauty which I didn't really see because I was facing Andy, who, nice as he is, could not really be described as breathtakingly beautiful. He certainly didn't offer up hedgerows flecked with purple and a gorgeously undulating landscape, although I believe he's working on it. We arrived in Edinburgh at about 8pm, and stood in a disgustingly bedraggled cluster in the hotel reception, with noses being turned up at us by guests who'd come to this very hotel in order to get away from smelly men with greasy hair wearing unkempt leisure clothing. We all got dressed up nicely and went for a curry up the road, where we were serenaded by deafeningly loud Indian classical music on sitars and tablas. To their credit, they let Ralph have a go on the tablas. To Ralph's credit, he looks fantastic sitting on a posh chair in a posh hotel.
Now I've got to write 500 words for the Independent about technology, and I'm wondering if they'd accept 500 words on being on tour, because I've already done about 600 here, look.