Tony Penultimate

Newcastle Upon Tyne

Whenever we go to Australia or New Zealand, the one thing I find most irritating is meeting middle aged British expats, usually heavily suntanned and wearing Hawaiian shirts, saying things like "Why do you wanna go back home?' - WE'VE GOT EVERYTHING HERE. All the while gesturing to their ranch style house with enormous patio, barbecue etc etc and pointing at the SUNSHINE.
I held this thought in my mind while Leisa and I drove away from Blackpool in the pissing rain and after an uncomfortable stay at the Imperial Hotel (for me).
I had had a terrible nights sleep - I woke up at 3.30 and at 4.30 decided to get up and go for a walk and type up this blog and as I got back into bed, I realised that I'd been wearing my underpants back to front all day!
Call it showbiz paranoia, but I felt this might have had a bearing on my stressful day yesterday.
I've written about this perculiar 'tour state' where: - with all the travelling and transience of eveyday touring, you become sensitive to portents and signs from the Gods.
As we drove north across England, we listened to more Desert Island Discs podcasts (Victoria Wood, Morrissey) and admired the scenery - particularly Anthony Gormley's Angel of the North (above) - I say admired, we glanced at it briefly while whizzing by at 70mph.
Aftr dropping off our stuff at the hotel, we went to the theatre and arrived in the dark.
Soundchecking at Newcastle City Hall
Some of the other acts playing here this month
Here we are in our dressing room, the toilet was broken and we had a long walk up two flights of stairs - along the balcony of the theatre to reach the toilets.
​Walking back along the balcony I took this picture of the hall filling up with punters before the show
The show went over well - not quite so many uke players as the last two shows, but a bigger audience. After the show, I noticed that the Ukes had all placed arrows agains their names to Dave's sihouette (on our CD 'By Request")  see the last para in this blog    I showed it to Dave who told me that all the band were mad and it wasn't him - just his silhouette.
Regular readers will be familiar with my pictures of hotel corridors - just let me say that I have never been so glad to see this sight, and at the end of the corridor a neat and tidy, clean modern room.
 

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