IT PAINS me to report that my tour with Joe Bonamassa has sadly finished. Alas.
Well, for this year anyway!
I reckon I’ll be on the road again with him next year, possibly even in the States so watch this space.
A thousand thanks to everyone who came to see the show.
It was a fantastic run of gigs, playing to devoted sell-out crowds with a genuine love and appreciation of the blues.
The feedback I received, the comments and plaudits from all who caught the show quite overwhelmed me.
I’m totally stoked that everyone loves the new album and to that end I’ve got another UK tour sorted for next year during April and May.
I’m also happy to report that my new website, bells and whistles galore, is almost fully operational.
The best thing about the end of any tour is, of course, the after-show party.
Oh baby – it was messy!
After five well-behaved weeks on the road, up and down the UK and Ireland twice, we were climbing the walls and ready to explode.
My band and I are quite a responsible and professional outfit these days, I have to say.
There are no major drinking sessions between gigs, and only a few beers backstage on the night.
Believe me we learned the hard way after touring the world back in 2006-7, thinking we were The Rolling Stones re-born and larging it to the extreme every night. Such excess does take its toll. It’s a wonder the Stones are still alive, let alone touring and they out-partied us in their heyday a thousand times over.
I wonder if Keith Richards still overdoes it on the road after all these years?
Or today can he be found with Buddha, calm backstage sipping camomile tea, puffing on a Woodbine and surveying a broadsheet with the sound of his grandchildren’s laughter ringing in his lugs?
Of all the various brews circling the tour bus lounge on our trek back to London from Cork, the stand-out tipple on offer was a rather choice – and rather pricey – bottle of 30-year-old whisky. It warmed the cockles of all concerned.
Dr Watson, our sound technician, told us about a random night he spent in a whisky bar in the Ukrainian city of Odessa sampling a 1942 Glenfarclas at $100 a shot!
Speaking of pricey shots, I was amazed to see a bottle of whisky from the 1950s retailing for £5,000 in Terminal 5 duty free!
I’m more of a sour mash gal though; I might suggest that we include Lynchburg, Tennessee in our honeymoon plans.
If you want the good stuff at its best then go to the source, I say.
I recommend to all a Hot Tennessee Toddy one chilly Christmas night.
A generous shot of Jack, spoonful of honey, a cinnamon stick, topped up with hot water and some lemon juice. Perfection.