Currently on our way to Sheffield for gig number three and things are going pretty well. Despite being a man or two down crew-wise load-ins and outs have been relatively stress free and have in fact proved a useful source of exercise, this being good as you'll never find me giving any of my hard-earned cash to a poxy gym. North Atlantic Oscillation (so nice to have a support act I like) have been chipping in, and the local crew at the Cathouse in Glasgow were supremely keen and helpful, making the hell of their steep sticky stairs that little bit more bearable. On the subject of the Cathouse, this was the gig I was least looking forward to on this jaunt. Last time we were there (on the day Obama won the 2008 presidential race) the band played to around eighty punters in a filthy room (or was it eighty filthy punters in a room?). The dressing room was a dimly lit pigsty (the shower would more aptly have been employed as a second toilet should the other be occupied and the need great), and the catering seemed the product of some nightmare that involved wandering aimlessly around Netto with a dole cheque. Not so on this occasion. It's amazing what a lick of paint and a bit of TLC can do to a place. Three hundred or so punters this time as well.
In other news, Vincent is playing a shiny new Paul Reed Smith for part of the set, leaving me with the formidable task of figuring out a way to purloin it without anyone noticing. It is a very nice guitar. Les currently has a form of beard growing on his face, causing some to liken him to the late Dennis Hopper. Personally, I see more of a resemblance to Albert Steptoe.