ME AND my boys are back on the road again this month.
We are touring across the UK with The New Beautiful South and, as is always the case, things never quite go to plan.
Drama is assured to be lurking just around the next corner.
We kicked off in Birmingham last week and will be playing The Lemon Tree in Aberdeen on Saturday and Glasgow’s O2 ABC on Monday.
It didn’t take long for things to go wrong on the way to Birkenhead.
Just two miles from the venue, my over-zealous tour manager pranged the tour bus.
I left him rattled and shaken at the side of the road to deal with the obligatory exchange of details.
I moved into the driver’s seat and with measured haste made for the venue where we were already overdue for the night’s sound check.
The band and I were a bit dazed from the collision but being consummate pros and having dealt with much worse in the past, we hit the stage and, naturally, we rocked it!
The following day however, we barely made our performance in Islington let alone the sound check.
Friday the 13th had struck again with a terrible crash on the M6 – lots of cops, ambulances and a helicopter on scene, and all holding up the traffic.
We literally didn’t move an inch for hours and almost missed the entire show – almost!
Next my tour manager was dispatched to the wee town of Tenby in Wales to collect my wandering bass player.
He was finishing up a set at the Tenby Blues Festival at midnight and my manager-turned-taxi-driver arrived with instructions to drive him to Heathrow to join us for the flight to Switzerland.
We had been invited to the AVO Sessions in Basel, a very prestigious musical event, and we played a blinding set to a cracking crowd, even if I say so myself.
We were on stage before Snow Patrol, whose fantastic single Chasing Cars I covered on my Caledonia EP, especially for my Homecoming Scotland tour at the beginning of this year. I visited Switzerland ages ago when I was busking and backpacking round Europe.
I stayed in this crazy countryside hostel called the Funny Farm, which was owned and operated by a crew of hippy Rastas.
Nestled in a valley flanked by the Alps it was a heavenly spot where my fondness of the simple life was born.
On this visit, however, all I saw was the airport, the hotel and the venue.
Not even time to buy some chocolate or some Kirsch for the family!
One thing I did notice was that everyone smoked – indoors, too!
All were puffing away like mad and much to the detriment of my throat, which is now suffering.
I’m surrounded by honey, ginger, garlic, sea salt, herbal teas and water to soothe my vocal cords.
I’m not allowed to speak until I hit the stage tonight ... so on that note I shall say no more.