National Scouse Day

First the good news, National Scouse Day is now upgraded officially to Global Scouse Day.

I have had a National Scouse Day celebration annually for 3 years now, and it is becoming an important date on the social calendar.

Scouse is a dish strongly associated with the city of Liverpool, and is even used as a term of affection to describe people from that city.

As Liverpool is, or was,  a major world port, the dish is supposed to have been brought in by sailors, possibly Dutch, or maybe Latvian.

The earliest recording of the dish is from the early 18th century.

A simple dish of meat, usually lamb or beef, with onions, carrots, swede and potatoes, best served with  a garnish of pickled red cabbage and/or beetroot.

And we are fortunate to have been provided with Lamb from Yealand Farm.

Well tasty.

A pan of Blind Scouse is prepared for our vegetarian guests.

Of course, I know what you are all thinking, ‘But surely National…sorry.. I mean Global…… Scouse Day is February 28? ‘not in July?’

And you are right, but sadly I am never at home during February, usually on tour in some exotic country, so I celebrate this global event in July.

The first to arrive is our honoured guest McGoohan, one of the leading characters from the new book by MK Yealand ‘Shag Yourself Thin’,

a humorous look at the big business of fad diets and the nation’s obsession with sex.

Very amusing and at an appropriately slim volume of 57 pages, perfect for that train ride or flight.

purchase your copy here - 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Shag-Yourself-Thin-1-Plan/dp/1533618534?ie=UTF8&creativeASIN=1533618534&linkCode=w00&linkId=&ref_=as_sl_pc_qf_sp_asin_til&tag=wwwletzzepcom-21

McGoohan was rather disappointed to be the first to arrive as it meant he had a longer wait to eat, and he was starving.

But all is not lost, he has come well armed with organic beers and a nice bottle of Rosé wine from the Provence region of France, the perfect accompaniment for a dish of Scouse.

The next to arrive is an actual Scouser, known as SKB for short, with his delightful girlfriend. Again suitably armed with beers.

The guests arrive thick and fast, a famous radio DJ. Friends and neighbours.

And so the food is served to everyone’s delight.

Some late comers, but equally welcome. One in particular, Warlow himself arrived, yes THE Warlow, the hero of ‘Shag Yourself Thin’.

Warlow, now that he is a literary character, has become more flamboyant of late, and entertains us all with his witticisms such as :

‘There is only one thing worse than being invited to Scouse Day, and that is not being invited to Scouse Day’’ 

He flicks his flowing locks, to be caught by the breeze as he shakes his silver mane to accentuate the affect.

Warlow is without his Jester, he had offered the vacant position to McGoohan, as you can see by reading the book, but McGoohan refused.

His previous Jester, Gutbucket, had arrived at last year’s National Scouse Day, insulted all the guests, then the host, and finally the hostess before leaving with his ‘best friends’ who he had met in the pub an hour earlier.

Gutbucket is now banished to Australia never to return.

A noted absentee is Ros who trapped her thumb in the car door and went to A&E, the other Godfrey Butler, although invited, he declared he preferred to celebrate all things Scouse actually in Liverpool. A blatant lie, National Scouse Day holds no opportunity for any social or financial advancement, so he instead is most likely sunning himself  in the South of France, no doubt at someone else’s expense, quaffing gallons of the local Claret, again, at someone else’s expense.

A few late arrivals, Lady Sara Burley turned up completely drunk, having been ‘On the lash’ all day, and hungrily scoffed the last of the scouse. Fly Boy decided it was time to leave, as he was talking complete gibberish due to the amount of Gin and Tonic he had tucked away. We had to persuade him it wasn’t a great idea to cycle home in such a state of rampant drunkenness, thankfully, good sense prevailed, and Fly Boy decided it was foolish to cycle home as he could  injure himself and he would walk home instead,

‘Excellent’ we all thought, ‘tll he took 2 steps forward, tripped over his own feet and with a thud, landed face first on the concrete.

Massive black eye!

The first casualty of the day.

As it got dark and cold the fire came on and the BBQ fired up for some sausages. Warlow, who had exclaimed his dislike of beetroot, red cabbage, swede, and, well, the scouse actually, was delighted.

‘Emotions are for women,’ he exclaimed. ‘Sausages are for men’, and tucked in.

As I sit here tonight reflecting on the day, there is a knock at the door, Nurse Sue arrives, the wrong day; it was yesterday Sue!

But with an eclectic mix of German, Guyanese, American, Italian, Persian Scottish and even an Australian, Northern folk, public school boys, Posh Birds, DJs, musicians and authors, maybe Scouse Day can unite the world in perfect peace and harmony?

So, what a magnificent National Scouse Day! Rapidly becoming one of the musts on the social calendar of this divided nation.

Big thanks to Jane for the cake, Jan for the lamb and the sausages. Amy Hades, you are a star. No one has ever done such a wonderful job of cooking, serving, pouring and cleaning up “as you go” — and all the while engaging in meaningful chit chat with a house full of drunks. Poetry in motion.

See you next year.

Upon us all a little rain must fall

Hello readers, time for a new blog. I have been a bit remiss of late, so busy swanning around enjoying the summer that I haven’t put pen to proverbial paper for weeks.

The last actual gig I wrote about was back in May, since then I have waxed lyrical about motorbiking around France and Spain.

It is our summer break time, time to relax, visit friends and relatives, and watch the Euros.

My travels took me once again to Barcelona, for the second time in as many weeks. This time tho’ I nipped up the coast to Villanova where the amazing Danny Vaughn was doing an acoustic set, a beautiful setting, right on the coast as the sun went down.

It was a very well attended gig, and Danny holds the audience in the palm of his hand. I was fortunate enough to be invited to join Danny for a rendition of Gallows Pole, an old English folk song made famous by Led Zeppelin.

A fantastic evening, somewhat marred by the useless driver we had. She disappeared into the night, having found a guitarist drunk enough to shag her, and so we were duly abandoned to find a bus that was going to Barcelona at 2am.

A big thank you to the drummer of The Golden Grahams for saving the day on that score, and getting us back to Barcelona.

We have been hard at work too of course, with shows in Kent, at the Astor Theatre, we have been to Hull and back. As well as Brighouse in Yorkshire, famous for its brass band.

We also took a trip to Holland for the Tilburg Midsummer Backstage festival. Not that you would know it was summer with the amount of rain that fell on us.

Thankfully, the Dutch are a hardy lot, and they stayed on in the rain to watch the performance. 

That brought back memories of a show we did in Germany once, and the heavens opened, but the audience simply took off their clothes, watched us naked, then put their clothes back on after the rain had stopped.

 We were getting a bit worried as the wind was blowing the rain right on the stage, but we got through, with no mishaps, no one got electrocuted.

Our next show is in Deal once more, for a festival, which will be broadcast live on the radio. I’ll put more info up on that soon.

Then the big one – Latvia, I have only been there once before but it was a great place. We are all fired up for that one, followed by Finland.

So, here we are, on our summer break, time to recharge the batteries, and try avoid the rain. Yes, just two weeks into our summer break and  I am Stair Crazy already!

Bring on the second part of our Tales of Storms tour 2016. The first part of the year has been fantastic.

The Mild Bunch - Barcelona

Well our hopes of better weather were soon dashed, as, at breakfast, on the bank of the River Lot, the rain started again in earnest; looking out at the river, ‘That’s yer Lot’ I thought to myself.

Being the Monday of the new working week, the  roads were busier than the last 2 days.

With the rain, this meant we arrived wet and cold and two hours behind schedule at Carcassonne.

A major fortress in medieval times, it fell into disrepair in later years, so much so it was struck off the list of fortified building during the Napoleonic period and was marked for demolition. Thankfully it was rebuilt, all 53 watchtowers and double defensive wall. Although more of a modern fantasy version of how a medieval castle may have looked, being rebuilt in 1853. It still retains its charm.

For lunch it can only be  cassoulet.

A rich, slow-cooked casserole originating in the south of France, containing meat (typically pork sausages, goose, duck) and white beans. 

Thought to originate from Carcassonne itself, legend tells us that at times the fortress became under siege, everything edible was put into  a large traditional cooking vessel, the cassole, from where the name derives. Being a deep, round, earthenware pot with slanting sides.

After lunch I decided that was enough and I would leave Ken to ramble around France. I blatted off down the Peage to Barcelona, and the hope of better weather.

It was here the BMW came into its own, it flew down the motorway, cruising at a smooth and steady pace. I have managed to adjust my weight on the seat to  a more evenly balanced position and am now able to get some miles under the belt; arriving in Barcelona, and the sunshine in good time.

It’s nice to lock the bike in the garage and head into town for a well deserved, refreshing local beer..

As all my clothes are soaked, a quick visit to Las Ramblas is in order to re-kit myself out in my new ‘Barcelona Chic’ image.

Last night, the rest of the Mild Bunch arrived. 666 Squadron glides into town. We have our pre-tour meal in Las Caracoles just off Las Ramblas.

The Restaurant has been there since 1837, the same family has run it for generations, set in a back street which, nowadays, is full of ne’er do wells, dodgy strip joints and other undesirables, so yes, we fit right in, and then this fantastic restaurant which is an absolute must if you are in Barcelona.

We had the best table in the house, the one where Bruce Springsteen dined last week, and Robert de Niro too. The pictures on the wall tell the story of the restaurant's ongoing history and continued popularity. From The Rolling Stones, Robert Plant, President Jimmy Carter, Charlton Heston, back to the likes of Edward G. Robinson. All sat here.

Fantastic food, the fish soup is amazing. We persuaded Jeff that the traditional Catalan way to eat the flan desert is to suck it up in one gulp, straight from the plate not using hands. For some reason he believed us and demonstrated this method by sticking his face in his desert. Devouring most of it in one mighty slurp. But needing two more attempts to polish it off.

The staff mistook me for Robert Plant and wanted a pic to join the greats on the wall. I thought it would be amusing to have my pic there, but had to confess they were mistaken.

Now I sit a Barca airport to return to the UK for this weekend's shows.

It’s been cold, wet and uncomfortable, and a petrol strike in France, a perfect biking weekend really.

Adieu for now.

Cahors

Well the rain that started yesterday, continued into the day today, so, after a frugal breakfast, off we went into the wet and the cold.

Being a Sunday, many of the sights we wished to visit En Route were closed.

And being a miz day, we cracked on towards Cahors.

After the first 90 minutes of cheerless, but thankfully, incident free riding, we found a suitable spot for our elevenses.

Earlier, as we set off, we purchased some rustic items to carry with us, some fromage chevre, 

saucisson, pain and roast poulet. We had envisioned a rather picturesque picnic spot, in a leafy glade, sun breaking through the trees somewhere. But due to the bad weather, we pulled in under the awning of a disused petrol station, on the main road.

Although grim, at least still Al Fresco, and it offered some shelter from the incessant rain.

 It was at this point I discovered, that, although my left boot had retained its ability to keep out the water, the right one had not.

I poured out a pint of water from my dripping boot, and put the drenched sock on the engine to dry and tucked into our delicious roadside snack, accompanied, not by a grumpy piano player as we were on the ferry, but the roar of the traffic.

But nonetheless,  a welcome break from the rain.

Of course no way was my sock anywhere near dry;  thankfully, I had a new pair, and to save me from a further soaking, the plastic carrier bag in which our lunch came served as a waterproof covering for my right boot.

I may not be looking my most hip and trendy of the chic biker image, but  at least I was dry for the rest of the day.

We stopped briefly at Oradour Sur Glane.

In 1944 the soldiers came, they put the women and children into the church, from where they could hear their men being shot, then they died too. 642 men, women and children.

Their village destroyed.

Oradour Sur Glade was never rebuilt

After a coffee, and time for reflection, headed directly to Cahors.

Our hotel is on the banks of the river Lot overlooking the old town, and fortified Valentre Bridge.

Cahors is on a bend on the river and on a peninsula, a very important town back in the day, and was an area that saw a lot of action in the 100 Years War.

Cahors was attacked by Sir John Chandos, one of the commanders who led British troops in the Battle of Crécy, where The Black Prince, commanding the army, was only 16. Years later, he drew the battle plan that led to the English victory at the Battle of Poitiers in 1356 .

As a reward for services, Chandos was appointed lieutenant of France, vice-chamberlain of England, one of the founders of The Order of the Garter and constable of Aquitaine and seneschal of Poitou .

Upon his death, he was mourned by the English and French alike.

We arrived in Cahors cold, wet and running late, so no time to walk around the town looking for a local bistro. After a long soak to bring the blood back to warmth in a tiny bath, we ate at the hotel restaurant.

Cahors is a wine region and famous for its deep reds, predominantly  Malbec. Of which we enjoyed a couple of bottles with our evening meal, then wearily off to bed, in the hope of better weather tomorrow.

La Rochelle

Friday afternoon and we are finally ready to set off on our bike trip to France, ending at Barcelona, well, ending for me that is; others join the gang in Barcelona, but I can only do the first part of the trip, and Matthew the second, hence, I take his BMW GS 1200 to Barca, and he rides it back.

Well that was the idea. It almost came unstuck at 4am that morning and Matthew was knocking on my door,.

The BMW had been stolen off my driveway, under my nose, as I slept!

The neck of some people. Thankfully tho’ it has a tracker, and the police took us to its location and only 90 minutes after it had been stolen, it was back in my possession.

However, in the morning, I did fit some extra locks to protect my Triumph Thunderbird from suffering the same fate.

So to Portsmouth, and to France then, where never arrived more happier men.

We are on the overnight ferry; myself and fellow traveller Ken are sharing a cabin, please note, any maritime jokes about Roger the cabin boy will be deleted!

So after a rather marvellous evening meal aboard, we shared a nightcap in the cocktail bar, where the rather miserable pianist played.

Probably bitter as after years of classical training, he ends up playing old easy-listening classics to oiks like us.

Interesting, as last night, we did one of our new acoustic shows at the famous Troubadour in Earls Court, famous as in Bob Dylan Played there, as did Hendrix.

It is in fact the very venue in which Zeppelin had their after show parties after the Earls Court shows, exactly 46 years ago to the day.

Not only was the show sold out, but also the most presales the venue had ever had.

The manager there was a bit dubious at first, and wanted the full show, but the acoustic show is proving a huge success. We are all really enjoying it too.

We arrive at St Malo at 8m only to hear that France is in the midst of a full blown fuel strike. Oh the joy.

But doesn’t end up much of a problem, there are always those that take the opportunity to capitalise on things like this, just means longer queues and more waiting, but fuel is aplenty.

My first time riding this particular bike, and, whilst impressed with its gadgetry, and all the settings for different road surfaces, weather conditions, advanced luggage system you would think they could design a more comfortable seat.

I have to stop every hour to relieve my numb nether regions, as the Romans called it, Sorus Arsus Maximus.

And we have only just begun!

So, back to today and La Rochelle, a lovely old port, known for a medieval sea battle, in which firearms were used for the first time, through the Napoleonic, and up to WWII, where the Germans had a submarine base.

But tonight, we are more interested in the Moules Marinaire, and a bottle of Sancerre.
At the appropriately named Les Enfants du Rock.

We sit at the waterfront, under the shadow of the imposing medieval fortress, built to protect the port. Taking in the ambience.

And then the rain came.

So of course, we adjourn to the nearest bar for a bottle of their finest Bordeaux. As we watch people struggle through the wind and the rain.

A fantastic setting for a photo opportunity, and we tested our photographic skills and the people we observed, not a bad effort.

And so to bed.

Erlebnis Bergwerk Merkers - 500 metres underground

Sitting back stage at BURGLENGENFELD, Veranstaltungszentrum.

With the miniature bottle of Jack, and no pinball this time.

A new town for us here and nice to see some people have travelled up to 250kms to be here.

Last night was fun, Munich, last time we played the Circus Krone, which is an actual circus, hence the name.

This time further out of town in an ex potato factory.

Where we heard the news of the passing of Prince, only 57 and a great talent. I saw him at the 02 London a few years back.

A very responsive crowd and some old friends were here, Bernhard and Simone.

So I went for a rare after-show drink, but paid for it the next day.
Everyone smoked in the bar, amazing how soon we forget it used to be the norm to wake up stinking of smoke.

I just dived in bed and slept, that’s the trouble with flying out early the same day as the show, takes me a while to catch up on sleep.

Upon awakening from my esteemed repose, I couldn’t find the room key anywhere. So I had to shower in the dark.

I thought when in the shower that although I tore the room to pieces looking for the key I’ll find it in an obvious place just as I leave.

And lo and behold, the last thing I packed away was this very laptop upon which I now type, and under it the room key, and the key to the electricity.

Anyway, show time, tomorrow is the big one.

‘til then I wish you a fond  hors d'oeuvres. (Groucho)

I am writing to you from 500 metres under the Earth from a disused salt mine, and certainly the most unusual of venues.

You can't really miss the venue, you can see the mine shafts for miles.

The elevators drops into  a pitch black abyss, which only takes the traveller halfway. Then a drive through the tunnels, for a mile or so, in total darkness save for the glare of the trucks headlights.

We Then turn a corner and we are in a huge cavernous opening, with stage, light and PA, and a nice backstage area. Where I now sit, enjoying a cuppa Earl Gray.

Merkers was part of Eastern Germany, before the unification. But is best known for where the Nazis stashed their gold bullion, and art treasured, during WWII.

It was discovered by the United States Army in 1945. General Dwight D. Eisenhower himself went into the mine in April 1945 to examine the find.

It’s pretty much bomb proof down here.

So if WWIII kicks off and it’s the end of the world when we get back to the surface. It is down to us to repopulate the planet.

The acoustics here are amazing, and a good team working on the show.

Tonight, just like the last time, is Sold Out.

 Unlike last time tho’ we have changed hotel, last year it was like Fawlty Towers, where the manager was so drunk he kept falling asleep as we tried to check in.

We had to wake him, and he would have forgotten who we were

It went a bit like this

‘We have a reservation.. 5 rooms’

‘smoking or none smoking?’

‘none smoking’

‘I’m sorry we do not have any smoking rooms left’

‘Its ok we don’t smoke’

‘zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Hello!!

‘yes can I help you?

‘We have a reservation – 5 rooms’

‘smoking or none zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz’

HELLO!

‘Yes can I help you’

We have a reservation!!

‘Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz’

‘Look we have a reservation for 5 rooms, none smoking, can we have the keys please’

‘Sorry we don’t have any smoking rooms left’

‘That’s ok, none smoking is fine’

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz’

He looked a bit like Basil Fawlty too.

Today is Saint Georges Day!

And sound check begins, the drums are thundering away into the distance, the gong sounds apocalyptic.

Once down here we are here for the duration, there is no nipping back to the hotel, it takes a full two hours to get the audience in, and another 2 hours to get them out.

And we will be the last to leave.

But there are bars and restaurants down here, like an underground city.

Certainly one of the most amazing venues I have performed at, and I have done a few!

Tomorrow, we fly back to the UK, and normality.

Abbey Road

Dear reader, you join us here we at Schiphol Airport patiently awaiting our return flight home after a show in Holland.

Shaun recalling to us that the last time we were here our plane was delayed, and how he selflessly went and got us free tea, and is now bitterly complaining to me that he was ‘publicly ridiculed’ for this gallant act in my blog.

AND!!!! to make matters worse, that was the one and only time I mentioned him in my blogs, well Shaun, there is only one thing worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.

So here goes……

Backstage at the gig on Friday they had a pinball machine, Gilligan's Island themed, it must be old!! So Shaun, Andy and myself battled it out, once I achieved my all time top score of 16.800,000 – yes, sixteen million eight hundred thousand - I retired to the green room for a restorative, a celebratory nip of Jack .

Leaving Shaun and Andy chasing my high score, all in vain, they gave up, accepting defeat! Andy joining me for a consolatory vodka and tonic. Although Andy got his revenge at pool back at the hotel after the show, beating me 4-0. Shaun having retired to bed ages ago.

Shaun usually likes to have a small beer after a show to relax, and early to his room. We are all a good clean living band.

Thursday was interesting, spent the day in Abbey Road Studios in London, not having been there before I was keen to enter it’s hallowed halls.

Being a nice day I decided to roar up there on the newly polished Triumph. A proper mean machine, all clean and serviced for the spring.

Although the actual street sign is obscured by graffiti, Abbey Road Studio’s location is somewhat given away by the throngs of people outside taking pics through the railings, and the amount of people on the zebra crossing, although, I always thought that it isn’t in the original site, but that it was moved years ago.

Anyway it now holds a grade II listed status and is a London tourist attraction. Daily filled by people risking life and limb against the London traffic to emulate the cover of the Beatles Abbey Road album sleeve.

Abbey Road - Studio 1

A Huge room, even when talking the voice resonates.

The main studio, the history weighs down from the walls.

It began as a 9 bedroom Georgian Town House built in the 1830’s. later converted to flats.

When the building was acquired by the Gramophone Company in 1931 Sir Edward Elgar conducted there, and has been used for many of the big film scores ever since, Lord of The Rings, Star Wars, as attested by all the awards plastered over the wall space.

Oh yes,  The Beatles recorded here too, With the late, great George Martin.

Pink Floyd, The Stones, Bob Dylan, the list goes on…. you get the picture…

Today, I am here a guest of the Groove Me project, who have developed a new 3D recording process, absolutely fascinating stuff.

Steve Harley is recording 4 songs, including a version of ‘Here Comes The Sun’ a Beatles song, written by George Harrison for the Abbey Road album, recorded here in 1969.

Speaking of which, ‘Something’ also by Harrison, and featuring on the  Abbey Road album. To go off on a  tangent for a moment, last year I was in the Cadugan Hotel, just off Sloane Square, Jimmy Page was telling us that, back in the early 70’s, he heard that George Harrison, when asked if he had heard of Led Zeppelin, replied with something along the lines of ‘Oh that’s the band that can’t write a ballad’

So, in response, Jimmy wrote ‘The Rain Song’, and he even took the two opening chords of ‘Something’ by Harrison as a kind of tongue in cheek homage.

Listen  to it, it makes sense.

Anyway, I digress.

Steve Harley had his Cockney Rebel in the studio with him, fantastic musicians, all four songs  mainly recorded in one live take.

His band includes two Austrian twin sisters, Mona and Lisa. Who are very talented, they are collectively the MonaLisa Twins, and perform, among other things, at The Cavern in Liverpool, where they now live.

                                        Mona       Billy    Helenka   Lisa      Michelle

After the recording, Steve Harley and the band are then filmed, for holographic projection. So the performance can be seen anywhere in the world, without the need for the artist to be there.

It is amazing, I saw a clip of Bob Geldof performing, only he wasn’t, it was a hologram.

Don’t ask me how they do it as I haven’t a clue, but I am invited down to the studio in Hampshire next week to witness the process.

Are we witnessing the future of music performance?

The possibilities are endless, resurrecting Elvis as a hologram?

Maybe even Led Zeppelin in Concert? Maybe I’ll be out of a job soon!

Nonetheless a fascinating day, felt part of the history of the place and met some really nice people. 

                   Mike Reid, very knowledgeable bloke and a pleasure to talk with.

I couldn’t stay too late as I had a flight early Friday, but a big thanks to Steve Harley for allowing us to sit in on his session.

Got home in time to catch the end of the Liverpool game, coming back from 1-3 down to dramatically win 4-3 and through to the semi-final of the Europa League.

Liverpool were 2-0 down when I left the pub, 3-1 down when I got home, but went onto win 4-3 after I had changed into my lucky Liverpool underpants, if they go onto win the cup I expect a winners medal for my contribution.

Our show in Leiden was good, a quick flight to Amsterdam and a 20 minute drive afterwards.

We have put The Rain Song back into the set for the next few dates at least.

Good venue, an old metal works or so I am told, good sound and everyone was on good form, many people travelling to the show from all over Holland.

Particularly Amsterdam, thanks to Enrico for the normal sized bottle of Jack.

We have an interesting gig next Saturday, 500 metres underground, more on that to follow.

A La Vache

The week started off badly with a bit of a shock to the system. I went to the pub whereby i was expecting to meet some friends, only to be confronted by a face that seemed to recall, someone from some dark recess of my memory.
Then it dawned on me, 'Oh My God!......just what is my Ex's mother doing here?' I asked myself in terror.

But no, I was wrong, it not her mother at all, it was in fact the ex itself!! I only realised my mistake when she started sucking on a cigarette, a bit like Gollum.
Obviously it's true what they say about smoking having an aging effect, but I didn't know it piled the weight on too!
I felt my legs buckle as a cold chill ran down my spine, but a stiff drink sorted me out and I was soon restored to my former vigour.

She made a hasty retreat when news of my arrival spread.

Anyway, nice little trip this one, all the gigs although in three different countries are only an hour or so apart.

And a chance for me to practice my French, A La Vache!

Je Pense que Je parle Francais tres bien, I even made up a little joke about the mandolin, tres amusant!

First one up St Avold in France, we flew in early that morning and had chance to catch up with some sleep before sound check.

A few problems at sound check, but all well on the night. It is nice to have our own equipment out here, and our regular crew.

We have Peter on drums for this series of shows as Simon is still on ‘leave’.

Sadly tho’ our portable DVD player packed up, so we couldn’t display our Live at Wacken DVD.

Second show – Sankt Ingbert, Germany, and we have a new crew member, Tino, the guitar tech, very efficient, having all of Andys guitars ready for him, in the right tuning, at the right time of the set.

I usually take the opportunity to talk to the crowd between songs  to allow Andy time to tune up. I didn’t have chance to say anything as Andys guitars were all tuned and ready to go!

I’ll have to talk quicker in future.

Nice to return ‘The Song Remains the Same’ and ‘The Rain Song’ into the set.

The next day is a short drive to Luxembourg. The venue, Rockhal, is in the aptly named Avenue du Rock ‘n’ Roll.

Our hotel is opposite the venue and there are many people staying here who have travelled to be at the show.

Many from Belgium,  and some others who were at St Avold 2 days ago.

That being the case, we put a few different songs in tonight, but as we are on a strict curfew, we  can’t go too mad!

But yeah, a good little trip, , no late nights or massive partying, so no hangovers.

Early to bed,  not too much travel, short flights, nice food.

The crew did a fantastic job, the venues all marvellous, and great shows thanks to the fantastic people who came along.

Only one gripe, on our flight back, I am sure by some mix up. Pete, the drummer inexplicably flying first class whilst I am at the back of the plane!

Pete had Champagne and canapés, I got a cuppa tea and a bag of crisps! Surely some mistake!

I will be having words with the powers that be!

The Return of the Jeff

Although I have now escaped from boot camp, I still get regular updates from my fellow Gladiators.

And an important and interesting development has occurred

Jeff Stewart, yes, THE Jeff Stewart.

The very man who attended boot camp just the once, got half way up The Old Man of Coniston, only to find it was too cold and turned back.

To spend the rest of boot camp tucked up cosily in his bed.

He has come for a second outing.

Yes the same man who said on his way back down Coniston he met a very attractive woman coming the opposite way, on a track just wide enough for one person, and he didn’t know whether to toss himself off or block her passage.

The same man who strolling around the garden playing croquet, announced,  ’Once the vicar’s wife gets a firm grip on the shaft, no man’s balls are safe’

He has returned.

For those who do not know, Jeff is an English version of Frasier Crane, and in true Jeff fashion, turned up in all the wrong gear.

Lacking the proper hiking or gym wear, he came in his tennis whites, and set off on the morning walk.

Soon, however, Jeff was lagging far behind, head lolling like those toy dogs in the back of a car.

The noble Gladiators at boot camp waited gallantly in the aptly-named Brief Encounter tea house in Carnforth for  Jeff to catch up.

Whilst waiting, the troop decided to have breakfast, and of course, upholding the strict regime of boot camp, by having a Spartan Breakfast.  Not so Jeff who ordered the not so Spartan full English fry up upon arrival.

Then scrounged the bus fare back to the house.

Later that same day, whilst the rest of the bootcampers where busy in the gym, Jeff was laying in bed recovering from his morning ordeal.

Soon, the sweet aroma of the roast beef slowly cooking in the oven filled Jeff with the sudden urge to eat.

So duly he took out the beef, sliced up and tucked in, then slapped the remainder in between bits of bread to make sandwiches for his train ride home, later that day, first class of course, no doubt accompanied by a bottle of Claret.

So as Jeff wafted back to London, tucking into beef sandwiches, his fellow comrades, who had waited for him in Carnforth, found only a bone, and had vegetables for dinner that night.

Not only that – he also took a souvenir Boot Camp 2016 tee-shirt, the last one left, so Wing commander Rawlings, who led by example all week, didn’t get one.

I have said it once and I will say it again . . . Jeff, you are my hero and I can only aspire to be as great as you.

Tales of Storms

London shows are always fun.

The Borderline is just about the only venue left in Soho, once the centre of live music. London has either huge venues, or small, sadly hardly any mid-sized venues left.

Actually, loading to The Borderline is behind in a small dead-end street, which is close to the venue we played regularly in London. The Astoria, now gone.

On the drive from where I live to the West End, I must pass at least 20 ex-music venues, which are now soulless coffee bars, or pizza places.

I had a walk down Tin Pan Alley, Denmark Street WC1, once the centre of music publishing and now music shops, I wonder how long it is before that goes too?

Wasn’t sure had this show would go being a Bank holiday Friday, but it was fantastic, and well attended, as always.

and a chance to show off our brand new banners we had made up last week, to adorn the foyers of the venues we play.

Here we see said banner adorned by an attractive girl who is obviously a fan of the band.

Saturday is Holmfirth in Yorkshire famous for where they filmed the popular TV series ‘Last of the Summer Wine’

So of course, We had to have breakfast in Sid’s Café, as featured in the show.

Where we met actor Ken Kitson, who was in the show. He was there promoting his new book.

Really good turn out, and a really good show.

The town was being pelted with rain and high winds, rattling off the tile rooves opposite the venue.

We do pride ourselves on being as authentic as possible, but going so far as to provide actual storms is the icing on the cake, after all, this is the ‘Tales of Storms’ tour.

Led Zeppelin were one of the very first bands to perform in Japan, receiving the city medal from the Mayor of Hiroshima in recognition of this. Where they performed songs from the fourth album for the first time.

Their first ever show at The Budokan, Tokyo, was to be recorded for future release, but the sounds of the thunder storm that hit the city marred the recording and the tapes were wiped.

In recognition of this, we have named our 2016 World Tour as the ‘Tales of Storms’.

As we were staying in the local pub around the corner, got slightly drunk, but only ever so slightly, but as always, I am the first to bed. after all, I am El Santo!

G’night All