Day 12 (Monday) A Curry With Polly And Roger
July 15, 2004
Frazer made us some tea about 9 am and I bid Han a sweet farewell as she taxi’d to the train station and back to London as our bus rolled on to Shrewsbury. I slept most of the ride but when I did peer out my bunk window the Welsh countryside appeared magnificent and perfect. We arrived at about 2:30 pm. This was the home of Charles Darwin, apparently. Can you imagine what it was like to be Darwin in the 1800s? It’s tough enough being Michael Moore in the 21st century. But this was his hometown and it was a nice-looking place. Very old looking indeed. I wondered about just how controversial he was. Controversy in politics is a big word. It always has my attention.
When I think about all the things that revolve in the political Macy’s door that is the Puritan way of Western thinking, i can’t help but be comforted that people these days really aren’t so stupid as they are simply and perfectly fine with being lied to, as long as the Football game still comes on and the pub stays open. To even try and expect anyone to actually think these days would be like asking George W. Bush to take a cold bath with Saddam. And so, to answer a message board question a while back, THIS is why I don’t bother writing songs about politics. That should be left to Randy Newman and Tom Leher. No one should ever sing about politics unless they are strickly doing it for cheek. Otherwise all you get is Rage Against The Machine, and nobody wants that.
We got to sound check (after Rusty, Derek, Frazer and myself had found a nice pub and had lunch and pints. There was letter written by some bloke looking for his brother in 1766. The pub was called the HOLE IN THE WALL, as that is supposedly where they found the letter)and some of the guys wanted to shower at the venue. I asked the bloke there for 6 towels and waited all of 15 minutes. I went back out. He looked at me and said, “Oh, you meant now?” To which I thought about saying something really mean but i was too hung over. After sound check, i chilled a bit with our good pal, Steve Edmond, and also checked our the opening band, LUCKY JIM’s sound check, which sounded superb (as did their show…thanks for the CD Scot Keith!) And then me and Daddy had to have a meeting with management and then I was back at the club.
Frazer mentioned that, after the LOVE tour, he was working for a kid named Jamie Cullen, who appreantly does Sinatra immitations or something. Hannah was explaining it to me via my mobile as the Lucky Jim guys walked by. I asked them and they assured me he was shite. Hey, I don’t know. I love Sinatra. I’m not sure I want someone who speaks the Queen’s English singing ‘Fly me to the moom.’ Hannah is more forgiving and reminded me that I’d heard him in a café and liked it. Women. They remember everything, don’t they? It was time to rock anyway.
We played a super fun show and I was hanging by the merchandise table (by the way, a young fan – Nick Davies – gave Daddyo a Cricket ball as a gift!) And signing stuff and then everyone except 3 of us went with the bus to pick the Swedes up from london. So i got to stay out and in the alley behind the club I ran into long time LOVE fan, Roger, whom I’d always seen, had said hello, but never had a proper chat with. He and his darling girlfriend, Polly, were kind enough to invite me to a curry. How could I refuse? We did just that and had a bundle of laughs and pints and it was all such good fun. We paid the bill, I thanked them for their wonderful company and it just so happens my hotel was next door.
As I opened the door i noticed the light was on. I peered in and say daddyo, with his back to me, reading a book. Now, the stories of Daddyo falling asleep while reading a novel are legendary on at least 3 Continents. I called out his name and got no answer and figured this was indeed one of those moments. I showered, washed my teeth and got my own book out. I was deep into my book when Daddyo spooked me; he turned a page! IN HIS SLEEP, no less! This was incredible! Yes, I needed top alert the proper authorities. Maybe cut a deal with P.T. Barnum IV? I saw dollar signs and all kinds of dosh dreams began to pop up in my mind. I could buy Marlon Brando’s island from him, build a huge getaway for people who just want to be left alone. It would be perfect. Then, just as awesome a dream as it had been, it came to a ear-shattering screeching halt when Daddyo took his ear plugs out and said, “When did you get in? I didn’t even hear you come in.” And just like that,my fortune – the same one I’d just made 5 minutes earlier- was up in smoke as I envisioned P.T. tearing the 5 million check up right in my face and throwing the pieces all over creation, while blowing cigar smoke in my face. I put my book down, turned out my light and went to sleep, disgusted and defeated but well fed.