Woke up early, about 8.30, and looked out the window. It was cloudy and it had obviously rained. I turned the local news on and caught the end of ‘Sabrina, the teenage witch’ and then found ‘Trisha’ and there were two blokes and a bird and she was pregnant but they didn’t know who the father was. I didn’t know either so I turned the TV off and headed to the downstairs nook for bacon, eggs, toast and juice. The eggs were floating in so much butter you’d think they were wearing life preservers. After breakfast I washed up and piled into the bus.

Bent was now riding with Kose in the other car so we had even more room on the bus, with seven of us (six, if you discount Chris) and twelve seats. I admired the welsh countryside and tried to count the sheep. We stopped at a roadside store and I got some crisps and there was a rack with generic and dull novels by the usual suspects; Stephen King, Anne Rice, Erica Jong, Danielle Steele. A bunch of yanks, all on one side of the turnstile. But then one book caught my eye, I picked it up and turned it over. I saw the picture on the back, I recognised her. I looked at the front cover again. Ok, I knew the name and then it hit me, this was the (x?) wife of an old girlfriend’s uncle. She used to be involved in Satan stuff but had miraculously (imagine that!) been saved by the church and her husband, who also had written a very successful Christian/quasi-secular book about the planer being great or something to that effect.

But I’d met the man. My old girl’s dad was a minister like him. Now, this guy is famous and preached from the pulpit about the evils of promiscuity and that kind of stuff. Oh, yeah, also on the evils of drugs, now this same guy had two hot, late-teen, daughters when I dated his niece and, if memory serves me well, there was no coming between them and a line of coke and it was well known they’d shagged everything west of the 405. And this guy made a very good living telling people how to raise THEIR kids. Their church even offered me a car and money if I joined the church band (I politely declined) and I thought of these things as I put the crap book (something in the title about ‘evil’) down and figured that to be fifteen years ago, they’d probably all gone mad by now.

So the bus was a rolling to Sheffield and Daddyo’s wife, Traci, was flying in for the rest of the tour and Chapple’s wife meets us in Madrid (My wife is somewhere having dinner with ‘Fred’) also our friends, Steve and Su (as well as Traci’s friend, Jade) are coming to Sheffield for the show. Oh, and Scottish Keith text’d me that he’ll be there, as well as my friend, Jo Anne (who grew up with Ringo) who may put me up for a few nights in York. Some of us are staying at Ringo’s, some at his brother, Paul’s. But Paul lives a taxi ride from the city centre and Ringo’s is crowded and Jo Anne only lives round the corner from Ringo’s. Now in 1996, Jo Anne and her best friend, Jacqui, came to visit L.A. I let them have my bedroom for two weeks while I slept at (my girlfriend’s at the time) Melissa’s house. So we would see them all later, or that was the plan. Tonight’s an early show (8.30) and should be done by 10.15. Should be in York by 11.30pm, always good to be in York.

Well, we got to the venue about ‘half 3’ and Sheffield was wet and dull and sullen and dark, what else was new?! Sound checked and then split on my own and had dinner at a café round the corner from the venue, lamb with carrots and potatoes. Yum, also a pint of coffee (not sure about this Mike, am I reading this right? Caryne) More yum. Walked back to venue and Traci Green was backstage, along with our other friends that I mentioned earlier.

Show ended at 10pm, due to curfew. It wasn’t my favourite show but people enjoyed themselves so good for them. Backstage I had some beers, hung out with The Yards a bit and then our other friends came backstage, including Paul Barr’s brother, John, Scottish Keith, Chris Jones (the photographer) and Jo Anne, who Ringo and I were to ride with back to York.

After a lot of photos, everyone went with their rides, all of us heading to York. After a bit of traffic we were on our way. I rang Rita to say ‘Hello’ and to give her Jo’s home number. Once we dropped Ringo off (around the corner from Jo Anne’s) we went to Jo’s and she made me a salad and a cheese pizza. I played with her dog a bit (uncharacteristic of me) and then called it a night, it was 2.30am. I had my own room with a nice, big, bed.

Mike Randle