Summer September Liverpool Morning. Lunch at Egg (not to be confused with Birmingham's Mr. Egg - more later). Lost in a big Bull Ring. Birmingham. Not geographically lost. Physically. The Out of Step guys worked hard on this show, you should play for them. On stage cocktails = 2 x Whiskey Sours, 1 x Mojito, 1 x Margarita. Sold-out-show-high.
There's a Roy Chubby Brown issue after the show. Seems the racist, unfunny, curious old man has some hold over the City of Birmingham tonight. Give Chubby your parking space or be towed. Party splts - some for the aforementioned Mr. Egg
in which Willis orders chips and cheese and is asked if he wants and egg on it, NO, some to have nightcaps with the band Metronomy, who played a ever-so-slightly larger venue down the road. Birmingham was wonderful, not so fussed about its Bull Ring.
The scenic route. Peak District. Ploughman's lunch by the water pump. Beautiful England. To Manchester. Ruby Lounge is as weird for us as it was before. Don't know why. Dancing kids tell us there were guys kicking at the backs of their legs during the show. Funny what some people feel they deserve from a show. We stay above the Deaf Institute which is actually above Dominoes Pizza. The air thick with Dominoes. We walk out of an episode of Breaking Bad, through the pizza chemistry and bags of contraband dough and cheery capped workers at the gate. Drive over the broken glass and on in to beauty. The Dales. Climbing to Scotland. Breath taking. Stop at indie-service station at Tebay. No chains. Farm produce. Feed the ducks with The History of Apple Pie. Somewhere else, some other parallel, a band is taking drugs and destroying a Hotel room. We breathe it in, so fresh, and drive on.