I’ll Take The High Road

We were off to Scotland ……it was time for the English members of the band to prepare their survival kits.

For Maggie & Miller it was back to the “Haimland”…..no survival kits for them.

But first we had to go to Hull. Our agent Toni had managed to get us a low-paid gig plus accommodation, which we accepted just to be 200 miles closer to Aberdeen when we woke up on the following Friday morning. We played at “The Springhead”. Even tho’ the drive had taken the best part of 5 hours, we played like heroes to a very appreciative, knowledgeable audience - they clapped in all the right places. Many punters came up to us afterwards & said they thought we were “the bee’s knees”. Then back to the slightly seedy hotel, for a good nights kip to set us up for the drive to Aberdeen. The hoped for 7- 8 hours sleep turned out to be about 4½ hours for me & it was pretty much the same for the rest of the band. I think I couldn’t fall asleep because I was anxious about getting enough sleep for the long drive, odd how the mind works. Anyway finally fell asleep & then up for “The Egg Patrol”, in other words – breakfast. We were three cars, Zoot, Miller & Colin H, & myself & Maggie.

Zoot was not seen at breakfast, I later learned he had hit the road at about 7.30am. Well off we went at about 9.00am. Hull was OK. as a departure point partway up the country, but we had to drive about 70 miles east to west before we could make a right turn onto the A1, & start eating up the miles to the North, which was a bit of a drag. Thankfully we didn’t encounter any rain to speak of & after 3 or 4 stops for food, drink & fags, & a journey time of 7 hours plus, thanks to the sat-nav, we pull up outside the Douglas Hotel in Aberdeen.Of course we expected the hotel to have parking space but no such luck. So I was on double yellow lines whilst I hastily checked in. Then Zoot came into the lobby, relaying various bits of info. about the venue (The Lemon Tree), where he had already been on a scouting trip. So as the chances of a little relaxation before getting the gear in were more or less nil due to the parking situation, he & I decided to go to the club, get our gear in & set up ready for a sound check.This was achieved without too much hassle, & as we were allowed to park in a small, normally locked up parking area where we could also leave our vehicles overnight, it wasn’t long before we were having a well-earned cup of coffee. The gig was well attended, well received & even tho’ we were all knackered, we played well & earned the applause…we slept a little better, even tho’ the pigeons & seagulls were partying for most of the night, not to mention the sound of drunken humans who were bent on doing the same thing.

Next morning…..”Egg Patrol” & then we hit the road for Glasgow, a mere 3 hours away. By 1pm. I was in my very nice room slowly relaxing into “forty winks”. At around 4pm. I drove to the venue “The Ferry”, & got my gear in, which was a bit of a pain. The Ferry is what the name suggests; so one has to get the gear down a bloody gangplank, & then into a lift that descends to the stage level. The drums are set up as usual at the back of the stage but what is unusual, is that this area of the stage has a low ceiling – I can’t even stand up straight. Well as we are in Scotland & in Maggie’s home city, needless to say there were lots of “jubilant jocks” present to cheer on their favourite “homegirl”. Being the other Scot, Miller was well applauded also. The Sassenachs in the band could only hope that the punters were sufficiently into their beer not to remember too much about “Braveheart”. We played good, Maggie, on several occasions having humorous exchanges with the audience as she does most places - but for her, the Glasgow audience is special. Gig over, time to pack up the tubs & get back to the hotel. This eventually got done, but due to the inefficient reversing light on my rented Focus, I backed into a steel barrier & the resulting dent would prove to be mildly expensive - curses!!

The next morning (Sunday) it was farewell to the tartan army, & back to the comparative safety of Albion. At breakfast due to the predominately Polish staff, Maggie had problems getting some porridge because no one seemed to know what she was talking about. As she said later.” It’s a sad situation when a Scot can’t get porridge in Glasgow”.

We drive for eight hours & arrived back in Fulham without much drama, except just outside of Birmingham the traffic was congested, as it often is & there was this guy, possibly of North African persuasion, complete with braided hair & ponytail, in a small white van who was driving in a very agitated manner, indicators flashing left & right, pushing in from one lane to another. I said, ”What is this prat up to”? He’s all over the place – eventually we find him beside us again & Maggie knocks on the window, & wags a No – No finger at him. His reply to this is to make a sign with his hands that suggests someone with a very large belly. From this we surmise that he has a woman in the van that is about to drop an offspring, or he is trying to get to the hospital in time to be with his wife for the delivery. Anyway he eventually shoots off the motorway & we are left wondering & laughing about what had been going on, as we continue driving in the endless rain for the last 150 odd miles to London.

At last we enter Zoot’s abode in Fulham. I head for the loo to point Percy at the porcelain, carrying the trusty sat/nav & the car keys. I exit the toilet with a sigh of relief, drop the keys on a pile of white t-shirts lying on a laundry basket & go into a small room where I keep my things whilst staying at the “Rannoch Hilton”, as Zoot’s place is sometimes called, due to the large number of rock ‘n ‘roll friends who have, over the years, spent time sleeping on his couch for one or more nights.( At this time I had already spent about 6 weeks doing just that, to the extent that I now find it hard to sleep in a bed ). I put the sat/nav back in it’s box, walk out of the room & - where are the car keys? For the next few hours everybody was looking all over the place for the bloody keys, & even out in the street with a flashlight etc. – nothing! Luckily the Hertz office I rent from is just down the road so the next morning at 9 am. I’m there explaining my predicament. I’m told that they do not have spare keys & that for the price of £140 I can have a set of keys sent from head office which, with a bit of luck will arrive in about 48 hours. Well in 48 hours & a bit, the band had a gig at “The Stables”, about 50 miles up the M1 & most of my drums where locked in the car. Oh dear, now what! I go back to the Rannoch Hilton & am in the process of demolishing my little room, in a last frantic search, when Zoot’s daughter Marisa, appears in the doorway with a smile on her face holding up the keys.She’d had the brainwave to search the pockets of her mother’s favourite cardigan, & there they were.

So all ends well, except the dent I put in the rear of the car cost me £90.