by Tyla Pallas
Bothered ye not. We opened a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. A beautiful maiden from the Bergerac region, free from the constraints imposed on us by the historical powerful Bordelaise. Pity we didn’t have a bit of fromage to sling about on the odd cracker, but one can’t have everything now can one? So on the train I found myself sitting next to a professor of music. He told me he had written books on the senses and the mind and music, and how it’s all related. He also informed me that he had come up with a new way for people to learn music but he got off at the next stop before he had chance to tell me! So I never found out what it was.
We arrived at the train station and hopped on the bus for the airport, it was a bit of a mad dash but we made the flight and within a few hours we were sitting back in the car and heading for Hamburg…only another 5 hours drive. We arrived in darkness to be confronted with the fact that MH lives on the 5th floor, and there was no lift! But as always we managed. MH carrying all the gear in a few trips and me eventually sitting on my arse going backwards step-by-step. I must have shed a few pounds in sweat in the last two days that for sure, and in October.
The very next day we went to the Doctor to get my foot checked out. As I said I was told in Bremen that it would require an operation to screw the bones together, which I must admit I was kind of looking forward to alas it was not to be. I will tell you why…
Never in my days have I ever been bothered with insurance, it all seems like a bloody con, you only have to look around and listen to the nightmare stories surrounding it. I mean insurance companies are all very well at taking your money, but come the pay out day, well that’s another story. I was once insured for a million dollars apparently, of course there was no need to panic, as I wasn’t informed of this until after our American tour. I did however get worldwide coverage for £90 from a United Kingdom Post Office when I visited the States in 2007, and by chance I did have to go for a check up while I was there. I promptly showed my insurance form, which they said they didn’t recognize and told me they wanted paying $320. I paid. Upon return to the UK along with the receipt, I posted off the claim papers. After the usual too- ing and fro-ing over 3 months the insurance company paid me £148, so I still ended up out of pocket.
So on this visit to Europe I had heard about the European health insurance card. I’d sent off for one but not received the actual card, in true fashion it arrived after the day I had left. Hence the reason MH had had to pay for my treatment in Bremen. Well now here we are in Hamburg, where the Doctor refuses to see me unless I have the actual card in my hand, He will of course treat me for a said price, upon where which I told him in so many words to Fuck Off! Ranting that if he came to England they would just treat him for FREE! We then went to the hospital, whereupon they informed me that they would operate on my foot, but would have to wait a week until the swelling had subsided. This of course was not going to be possible because the tour started in two days and this time next week I would be in Austria on my way to Switzerland. We left it at that and basically decided that only when I was going to be in one place for longer than a week could I hope to get any treatment. This turned out to be Clermont Ferrand in France where I would end up after the tour and begin recording my album ‘Bloody Hell - Fire’ over the next 10 days. I had the medical card posted there and continued on tour. All I did was sit in the back of the car with the passenger seat laid flat so I could stretch my bosted foot out on it, drinking bottle after bottle of red wine moaning about the world listening to the same tunes over and over. By night I played my songs, laughed and spoke sensibly and also argued with people, drank lots and lots of flaming Sambuca’s I think 22 was my record, at one gaff, where upon I proceeded to throw glasses around narrowly missing members of the bar staff, ruining the pool table and mixing desk, which I paid for in the process, still moaning about the European health service and singing the praises of the NHS in the UK.
I did however have a wonderful time at 99% of the places, including a fantastic exhibition of my art put on in Pfaffenhoven arranged by Michael Simon.
So let me tell you about that. I was invited to open the exhibition on the Saturday, then go off touring some more and return the following Saturday and play a gig at a local bar. I didn’t really now what to expect with the art exhibition but there had been quite a lot of press about the show to come. So its Saturday morning and I’m driven to the Gallery, which was actually in the town hall. They drop me round the back and walk me in and then straight into the disabled lift for wheelchairs and alike to raise me only a few feet to the level of the exhibition, I could have if the truth was known managed the five steps next to the lift. So there I am hunched over on my crutches being raised slowly - I look up to see a whole crowd of people, kids, The press - fans - the Mayor - the Minister of the Arts were all standing there watching waiting patiently as I rose, all that was needed was a bit of dry ice and some low lighting it would, well it did look hilarious. A few speeches were made, all the time I’m just thinking Tony Hancock in ‘the Rebel,’ my favourite film of all time, and I’m dying to laugh, but everyone is so polite, smiling, taking photos, shaking my hand, pointing at my foot, all talking in Bavarian, it was quite surreal. I declared the Exhibition open and the wine flowed much to my relief, and everyone loved the art, I even sold a few paintings, and as usual was serenaded by my own music, which makes me slightly uncomfortable, when I could be playing it myself, so out came a guitar and a few notes were strummed, a good time in all, very, very civilised. I’d never done anything like that before. It was kind of like Japan, where everything is done just right, the Germans are the same, very proud, and always doing things as best they can, in fact most places outside the UK are a pleasure to visit and even when things go wrong as in this next tale, no one gets too put out.
I think it was Soest, North Rhine-Westphalia,
We arrived early, well lunchtime, so MH and myself decided to have a typical Bavarian luncheon. It was a curious place, but at the same time boring as hell. Apparently humans had inhabited it for 4,000 years, some of its earliest inhabitants were still bloody walking around!
I opted for the pasta and some Vino Tinto and MH ate a moose or something along those lines. After a few digestives Brandy’s not biscuits. I decided I needed to purchase some gloves as the crutches over the weeks were rubbing the palms of my hands raw. Also in my boredom I had decided I wanted to spray my crutches black and paint some kind of design on them, they were a boring blue and grey, standard issue. We could find spray paint easy peasy, but gloves, well that was another matter. After much asking we found out that everyone bought their clothes in the nearest big city which was 50 miles away. You would have thought after living here for 4,000 years they would have got a decent shopping centre eh? I mean in the 11th Century 10,000 people lived here, what’s going on? So I said,
-Fuck that! Leave ‘em raw - its character building.
And so to sound check. All fine. The guy in charge said there were sandwiches upstairs, I could see. A lot of stairs! I was still full from lunch anyway. He then told us he had also booked a table for us at the best restaurant in town. (Take Note UK Promoters!) Well I suppose I could manage a little nibble. So up we trotted, hopped, skipped and plonked ourselves down at our reserved table, even though there was no one else in sight. I even had a starter! Then, yep you guessed it pasta, while MH somehow managed to get and I kid you not, five, yes 5! Steaks on one plate, ( I’ve got a photo somewhere)
a bit of moose, cow, horse, sheep. And he ate the lot, I don’t know where he puts it, he’s a skinny as a rake.
I then as it was going to be complimentary ordered an expensive bottle of Wine. I forget which vintage followed by Tiramisu for dessert and washed down with the obligatory Brandys.
It was like Christmas day, you know the last thing I wanted to do was play a gig, I was more in the mood to watch a film and fall asleep in an armchair, we were bloody stuffed. But alas we wandered over to the gig, only to find out there was only 4 people there to see me, th
ere was more bar staff than punters. But the guy in charge wasn’t fazed. He said oh it’s the club next door, every time I put a gig on the bloke next door, does a free entry and half price beer night, so the whole town goes there, but not to worry he tells me you’ll still get paid, what a nut, I felt kind of bad that I stole his DI Box now, anyway I did the gig, everyone including the bar staff enjoyed it. I don’t think it would have gone so smoothly in the UK eh?
Well the days and nights were pretty much the same drinking, eating singing’ passing out, driving, moaning, laughing…. Eventually we made it to Lyon, France where once again we came upon a surreal gig, basically to cut a long story short we turned up at this place some guy gave MH a key and that was it, the gig was ours to run for the night, no staff, no doorman, nothing, but people came and it was a great show, we paid ourselves and the next day set off for a 2 hour drive to Clermont Ferrand. Lez and Charles had come to Lyon so we followed them. We had a day off, then MH and Iris, his girlfriend bid me farewell and probably good riddance and headed off back to Hamburg.
I had one final show to do in Clermont Ferrand then I would concentrate on recording the album, Oh and also find time to get my leg seen to, now that I had finally received my actual medical card. At the hospital they informed me that I had in fact broken my foot, and so they put it in a brand new lightweight plastercast. They told me that I needed to rest for 3 weeks, and prescribed more anti blood clotting injections. Lovely! The recording went great, I always have a great time when I stay with Lez and his wife Tina and Charles is always there and when I record there is always the odd musician who drops by and end up playing something somewhere on my albums. We usually spend our days and nights drinking fine wines, eating smelly cheeses, farting and laughing at bad jokes, mostly mine, or stories such as this, which I’m telling. Clermont Fart-and is quite a cool place as well where the battle of the Gitanes, yeah they were Gypsies not cigarettes once you know, and the scenery is several dormant volcanoes on which the town is situated. And such cool people, I even managed to have a little art exhibition in a local bar and drink plenty of Pastiche. I was also left with the dilemma as to how to get back to London, as its quite expensive to fly, CF is also a ski resort being near to the French Alpes, alas I never got to go on the piste, funny thing was many moons ago I went on a school skiing holiday to CF and fell over and bost both me legs. Funny eh? So the route home was quite perplexing as not only was I on crutches with my ailment I also had quite a bit of gear, guitars, art portfolio, merchandise. I really could have done with a couple of elephants to cart my stuff about like Hannibal. Stephanie my Lady love has this romantic vision of that’s how I travel, like Lord bloody Byron, Lord Biro more like.
Then it occurred to me that my mate Eddie the Chip was always up for an adventure, and he owned a couple of elephants! So I called him up with the knowledge he was often in Europe doing something with motorbikes. He’d occasionally call me up and say he’s in East Germany, like you do and ask if he could he pop by for a smoke and a Guinness when I lived in… Barcelona, Spain. He actually did once, and I lived up a shall we say Spanish mews for want of a better word and managed to smash all the neighbours yuccas plant pots with his van. I didn’t travel back to the UK that time, he just took me gear for me, amps and guitars and merch that is children. I took me gear meself. Right I thought, so I called him up.
- Where are you? I enquired
- Sitting in the pub in Newcastle, he said.
- Well I said I’m here in the middle of France, do you fancy coming down here to get me, I’ll pay all the costs and there’s a drink in it for you.
- Wayyii, canny lad! I’ll be there in a few days, and he was! Now last time I saw Eddie, he lived above his chip shop in Haltwhistle, Northumberland but he’d had enough of the frying game and decided to sell up and move on. He bought an old 7 Tonne German beer wagon and had it converted into a mobile home. Everything went great, barring the one time he had parked the truck in a field, it was summer so he rolled the side up, where the barrels would come out, its was as you gather not yet a mobile home, but he had a mattress and all his belongings in the back, where as I said the barrels would have been kept when it was a beer delivery wagon. So there he was enjoying the early morning sunshine, well he must have nodded off due to an early morning left handed jazz woodbine, if you get my drift. He was woken by some woman tapping his shoulder asking how much he wanted for his teapot woke him. Scratchin his head and rubbin the sleep out of his eyes, he noticed a load of other cars and the place was a hive of activity. It was in fact a car boot and he had inadvertently parked up in the field, and now this woman was offering him 50 pence for his kettle! He had some other interested parties as well, but unfortunately nothing was for sale. Anyway apparently the wagon looked great now, so I waited in anticipation for his arrival. It was quite a sight as well, what a monster, plus he nearly managed to rip down a power line outside Lez’s house. I still had a few more tracks to finish off so Eddie and his missus Diane went sightseeing for the night, as it turned out there was a massive blizzard and they nearly got stranded up a mountain. They returned, he recorded the Farter song, secret track on BHF. Then we loaded up with wine, smelly cheese and bread and set off for Blighty! I love Eddie he’s such a character, you should see him driving this bloody great big left handed thing which is basically a lorry with a house on the back! He’s there hands constantly steering and shouting away over the noise of the engine which sits under us, Diane is in the passenger seat, and I’m looking through the serving hatch knockin out bread and cheese and skinning up laughin me head off. We pulled up for the night somewhere in between CF and Paris. We Cracked open a bottle of plonk and Eddie got his electric and gas ovens fired up and we had some scran.(Geordie for food) We smoked a few spliffs then got our heads down, Eddie and Diane were in the back double bed, me above the drivers cab..it was bloody freezing!
We woke - well Eddie woke me up by putting the kettle on to make tea at what seemed like the crack of dawn. So then we set off to circumnavigate the French Highways around Paris - what a crazy place! I’ve done it many times, its always packed with every vehicle under the sun. But we managed it, well, Eddie managed it.
- Bladdy Foreigners! he’s yelling left right an centre. I pointed out that we were in fact the bladdy foreigners! Well after about 9 hours and a 2-hour detour, to see the sights we finally make it to Calais.
- Oh! Says Eddie,
- I’ve just got to pick up some Tobacco… from Belgium. Sounds further that it is, its about 300 metres, no borders or anything in Europe anymore, not like back in the ‘80s. What a game that was bribing all the border guards with T shirts and what have you. That’s another story anyhow. So off we go to Belgium, for roll ups. Stuff that he says! Its more expensive that back home, and so back to France. Eddie goes and gets the Ferry tickets, we’re in luck we only have to wait 40 minutes, but in that time the customs do a car-to-car search, including us. I hope they don’t bring the dogs in he says! Don’t worry Eddie. Anyway on they come, they lift up the seats. I ask, do you ever find any stowaways? Oh yes, it scares the hell out of us, you just aren’t ready for someone to leap out of the smallest of holes and make a bolt for it. I mean these weren’t heavy US customs guards carrying guns, it was more like your Aunty Doreen and her mate checking for contraband. They got off, an we skinned up. Once on the ferry I had the mammoth task of hopping up 3 flights of stairs and just as I reach the summit (bar) I look left and there’s a bloody lift!
- I’ll take that down then.
We had a few Guinness’s. Well I had a few, Eddie was drivin’ so he only had one. Good lad. Mind you I told him it don’t mix with amphetamines. (Just joking)
