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Return of the Paper Bags
June 20
Train to Glasgow? We must be mad. Yes, but our consciences say we should and the nice people of Glasgow Jazz Festival agree. We change at Birmingham New Street. The grimness and grimeness of BNS station is mitigated by pasties. And soon we’re in beautiful, sunny Scotland. Stereo looks like a happening place and we are soon led into a dark, dank cave of a venue for our soundcheck. We like caves.
And the big news is Clive has shrunk a foot, grown hair and glasses and changed his name to Daisy. And he’s become a woman. We miss Clive’s beard but Daisy makes up for it by hitting the drums. Very loudly and very quietly. Everyone gets very excited by Daisy’s hitting. Especially us. The few lovely Glasgwegianers who come out on a rainy Friday night shout, whoop and generally make it known that we are rocking their heads off.
Back to the hotel for drinking, making friends and rudely taking over the jam session. A good half-night’s sleep for all then back on the train safe in the knowledge that the good people of Glasgow have felt our presence and are none the worse for it.
