Woke up about 9am, Chapple had gone down for breakfast and I watched some news and stuff. Called Glenn at 11.30 and we agreed to lunch at noon. Walked about for about an hour before settling on a Tavernas on the marina. We had Calamari (fried), salad, and cervesas. After eating, drinking and funny conversations, we headed back to the hotel bar.

Once there, we were joined by the Singer, who’d bought pastries around the corner. He matched our pints with a glass of Merlot. Then Rusty and Daddyo came down. After that I went online with the hotel computer, went to my credit card account and turns out $500 I’d sent to Bank of America never made it! Those Buggers! And so, at 4.30pm, we went to sound check (5 minutes walk from club) and checked from 5pm to 6pm. Drank some beer, coffee, ate sandwiches; the usual. So then we left the Playa club and Kenyo (our bus driver) took us up on the 2 minute drive back to the hotel. I got to my room and prepared to shower while watching CNN and the Bush Machine prepare to lie so that people will believe they are competent and could not have done better the protect the USA from a ‘9/11’ type event. I think most people realise that Bush is insane and truly will take his place as a 1-term prez. like his Daddy, much to the chagrin of his ultra-fascist supporters. Oh well, dude.

So, I showered and then went down to the lobby to cheer. A new world was only 8 months away in America and I just convinced myself it was worth the wait. All the dirty tricks have been played, the people have been fooled, the supreme court played their conservative cards, already making Dubby ‘President-Select’. Everyone who could have possibly voted for Bush (‘cept a few people in Ohio!), already voted for him. So I propose that, after John Kerry is elected the entire world celebrate our environment, our peace and our children depend on it. Bye-Bye G.W.B.

So that’s what CNN does to a guy like me. It keeps my mind off other things, and that’s good. So I sit ‘n’ stuff and think about the people who walk in and out of this nice hotel in La Caruna. And there are two very nice looking woman at the hotel desk, dressed nice, dressed warm and all I can think about is I want a Spanish beer or Dutch beer. And Whitesnake’s ‘Is this Love’ is on the radio for all to hear, and it is then that I really understood what David Coverdale has gone through. And I wanted to meet him and hug him and say ‘brother, you had a supermodel and it didn’t work out, I’m sorry.’ I would say that because I suspect David cares about music.

So it was around 7.15pm, March 26th, that I was thinking such thoughts and it was about this that I saw the whisky bar and thought that Fritz would love it (and also get the Bush/Ohio joke) and I think he would love La Caruna, though his Italian roots would scream for more.

Everything here is open from noon till about 2.30, then it doesn’t open again till 5pm and then only till about 7pm. Then from 9pm till about 1 or 2am. Then the clubs open at 3am and they close at 8am. This is Spain, folks, take it or leave it. And, as 7.20 zoomed up, I gave that some real consideration and I cast a look at the desk; tall woman and short woman, both in pants suits, both nice. One speaks English perfect, the other can’t say three words, big diff. but the non-English speaking one, who is the shorter of the two, has very pretty long black hair and a nice toosh. But no English from her, just smiles and embarrassment, and it’s quite cute! The other one, tall and official, has long brown hair and looks fairly plain (not a criticism only an observation) so I debate whether or not to try out my horrible Spanish and make a fool of myself, to break from the sheer boredom and monotony. I get scared and ask if it’s Wednesday or Thursday instead, it’s Friday, she answers 9she being Ms English) and so I go to the bar and order ‘Un Vino Tinta’, but pronounce the ‘v’ as a ‘b’. As I take my first sip I see Troels walk up with a shopping bag, Iberia Airlines lost his luggage and so Glenn gave him some dosh to buy new clothes. He looks quite chuffed, though one can never really tell, can one?

And so I was sat at the bar on my own (Troels left to shower), drinking a delicious red wine in gorgeous Spain, I knew full well the hell ride/whirlwind that awaited me in Los Angeles but, hey, what can you do? I had survived loads in life and I would continue, I don’t need slogans and I prefer to keep my life on the quiet top but I do use this journal (AKA – The Diaries) to find out what it is that I am feeling.

So, during lunch, I was looking up at the sky and dreaming, like when I was a small boy, to me, back then, no-one wanted answers to anything. Maybe that’s my problem; I need to be more of a team player! But I guess I’m not, I’m quite private and songs I write are quite personal and I cry very easily. Now, I don’t cry because someone hurt my feelings, the sympathy I reserve for insecure souls prevents me from becoming teary eyed BUT when I hear a beautiful song I just melt, or any great music. ‘Be My Baby’ is the greatest pop accomplishment to me. Brian Wilson feels the same, Rita disagrees (though she has excellent taste) with me on ‘Be my Baby’, we rarely disagreed on music.

So, at 8pm, we were off to dinner at the eatery upstairs from the restaurant (the Singer preferred to eat in). First they poured water and red wine, then they brought out mussels in a crème sauce with (sorry, can’t read that) and boiled leeks. Then came the bread crusted langoustine in mango-plum sauce. Then came the poached egg on potatoes with a tomato paste surround and a sausage rolled up deep-fried accompaniment. The food was BEYOND perfect, it was then that I realised this place was going to eclipse ‘Jimmy’s’ in Sarzana, it was THAT GOOD! Then, dammit, came the grilled tuna with no, not tuna but bonito and it came on a brilliant tomato ragu, drizzled with olive oil, then came coffee jelly with a white chocolate meringue. This was like a slice of heaven; sweet but not too sweet, then came the coffee au lait and then I was ready for a pre-show siesta! THEN, THEN, THEN came the whiskey liqueur coffee and brandy. My whiskey was a delicious single malt and I must say I am very pissed off about my credit card. Dammitall, I need a desert island right now and a fat bar tab, with my toes in the sand and a good book, pure paradise. It was 10pm and I was feeling good. Though there was real sadness in my heart about me and Reet, I tried to concentrate on the music.

After sitting in the hotel bar and enjoying a glass of wine, I set off for the Playa Club. The show was sold out and we hit the stage at 12.30 and finished at 2.30am. The show was fantastic and afterwards I shared beer with Mea and Safina, two guitar playing Spanish girls. Later on, Rusty and I hung out with Isabelle and her two sisters, we knew them from the Tupperware bar in Madrid (see my ’95 Spain diary or find an old copy of Los Angeles fanzine ‘Loca’, where I wrote up the trip in detail.) They were now living in La Caruna and they were still beautiful! We drank with them till 4am and then Rusty and me went back to the Hotel. Went to sleep at 5am, never hitting a pillow so hard.

Mike Randle