By 7:00am Rob had already knocked back four shots of whiskey to help with his fear of flying, or at least that was his excuse. It’s a little odd asking the stewardess for an apple juice and a blueberry muffin for me, oh and a single malt on the rocks for my nervous friend here…yes, for his breakfast.
Anyway, we’ve now arrived back in Switzerland for a four day stint of gigs and good times after a brief return home to the UK, except for Jay, who had stayed in Switzerland to spend some quality time with his girlfriend.By all accounts they had a lovely couple of days being shown around by Laura, Dan’s girlfriend, climbing mountains and visiting museums and such, but by his own admission he was probably driving poor Laura mad with his Kulturschwamm intensity. He can’t even swear anymore without asking for the German translation…
Speaking of undeserved hospitality, we were being treated (again) last week to a beautiful brunch and I couldn’t help but notice the brand name on a jar of gherkins. Charles Christ. What followed was a (probably far too long) conversation speculating on how tough life must have been for poor Charles, living in the shadow of his more famous and, let’s face it, successful older brother. The saddest part is that although Charles dedicated his life to gherkins, as gherkins go, they weren’t even that good. Yes, Charles’ story is one of constant under-achievement, jealousy and… revenge??
Well, we’re off to Fribourg tonight for a show at Paddy Reilly’s. Twas a good one last time round so we’re very much looking forward to blowing ‘em away once again. I hear we’re being plugged all day by Radio Fribourg so let’s hope that reaps some results! Sadly, Amelle (see previous blogs) can’t join us this time, which to be honest we’re all pretty gutted about. Oh Amelle…la belle de La Rochelle…
…16 hours. Not that bad really when you have only Edward Cairns for company. He is a sturdy driver and a witty companion. He only ever complains about his ‘nerves’, which get him down when something startling comes along - like a German. I was awoken from my semi-slumber by a blaring honk on the horn, a sudden change in direction (resulting in my skull smashing against a guitar case), and a stinging reprimand directed towards a lane swerver. He understood alright.
We were slightly upset we didn’t get asked to produce our passports even once in the whole trip (despite travelling through 6 different countries). No one seemed to care that we were travelling at her Majesty’s pleasure.
Thanks to all the heavy power ballads on European radio, we came close to deciding that we were going to take a break from the band to write a Hollywood romance about our secret love together that could never have been consummated in England. The plot would have basically been that we had to travel all the way to Switzerland in a post van just to screw. We abandoned the idea pretty quickly though.
Talking of power balads, check out Radio Regen Bogen!
We were woken up at 8.40am this morning (day after travelling) by Dan who claimed we had ‘lots of shit to do today’. It’s now 12.30pm and we have done everything (really not very much) so I am going to go and have a kip until 7pm when we’re off to rehearse in a nuclear bunker underneath a primary school.
You might wonder why TBF decided to go back to play Wigan
for a second time. Good question. Was it because we have a massive northern
following there? Well, no. Was it because we were getting paid handsomely? Not
exactly.But there must be a good
passing trade at the venue, right? Well, not particularly, no.We couldn’t think of many good reasons. After
much discussion, Dan decided that the cheap Boddington’s was a good enough
reason to drive six hours north. Easily pleased, them Swiss.
The Tudor House is, to be frank, not the kind of place where
TBF’s brand of indie-pop good time party anthems (ya dig?) would usually be
appreciated by the black clad northern make-up sporting warriors of the night.
And so it proved, but thankfully there were enough regular folk who seemed to
enjoy our work. Throw in a cover of Ace of Bass’s All That She Wants and everyone’s happy…right? Maybe.
We had the pleasure of being introduced to something called
Life Metal by a Scouse band that were supporting us. Their name escapes me, but
the singer claimed to be the eighth wonder of the world, and they certainly
proved to be something else.
What was even more memorable, however, was the confirmation
of my outlook on life that stereotypes exist for good reason – It’s because
they tend to be true. All Scousers are car thieves? Yes and no. The video below
certainly does show a group of Liverpudlians breaking into a very nice looking
Audi, and it doesn’t matter that it was the guy’s own car he was breaking into
in order to get to the keys he had accidentally locked in his boot – which, of
course, rendered the smashing of the driver’s window totally and utterly
pointless, other than it being hilarious.
We’re about to head further north to Edinburgh now. Our poor
wee van’s been having a bit of trouble for the fy4huyw2….e3irst time (thanks
for that contribution, Gabby, our three year old groupie) so I hope we get
there eventually…
