Tour Postcard 3: Edinburgh (2)
8th August 2006
dear Jenny,
The harsh economic realities of being in a band and having a mortgage meant that I spent yesterday morning in a hotel room working, slightly distracted by Dicky, who was watching highlights of Derby County's 2-2 draw against Southampton. He supports neither Derby County nor Southampton, but still managed to get rather worked up, and furious with himself – and particularly his bladder – when he went to the toilet and missed a goal. "Oh no," he said. "I went to the toilet and missed a goal." "I know," I said. "It was a very good goal." That's the kind of merciless taunting that goes on in Scritti Politti. Brutal stuff.
It would be wrong of me to write a postcard from an exotic destination such as Edinburgh and make repeated references to my toilet habits, but the gastric nightmare of Morocco still hasn't completely vanished from my system, and yesterday afternoon I lay in mild pain on a padded bench in the venue during the soundcheck. But by the time it had finished I felt markedly better. We were each given £10 buyout in lieu of a hot meal, so a few of us went to a local chippy and spent £3 each on highly un-nutritious dinners, leaving us £7 up on the deal. Probably a false economy, and scurvy may break out later today, but still, as I say, £7 up on the deal. I then went to the pub next door to the venue for a quick drink with my lovely friend Phil, who wasn't dressed in a rubber apron and a gimp mask – odd, eh. Back to the venue, which was by now pretty full. We walked on to a deafening roar, and a middle-aged woman in the front row started crying. It's good to make middle-aged women cry, I think. I should do it more often. After the show we sorted out all the gear into 2 piles – Going To Japan and Not Going To Japan, and labelled it up clearly. Of course, it's inevitable that some things that are meant to go to Japan will not end up in Japan, and other things that aren't meant to go to Japan will end up in Japan. I will inevitably end up in Japan, and the flight leaves Heathrow at 7.45pm. I'm dreading it, but Alyssa has promised that she'll hold my hand during take-off and landing, so that sweetens the pill slightly. The next postcard will be from Tokyo, or it should be, I mean, I don't know if they have the internet in Japan, that's a joke.
