Anyway, the band and I set off on the second leg of our UK tour at the weekend, and this time we were faced with a long trek 'up north'. Here's a brief account of what happened...

SATURDAY 15th MARCH - W.I. HALL, GREAT AYTON, NORTH YORKSHIRE

It's an early start from my house in Devizes, Home Of The Blues. Dave, as usual, is first on parade at 10.30 sharp, followed, as usual, by Chris some five minutes later, and then finally, as usual, Si arrives a fashionable fifteen minutes late. The fact that Si lives literally some 200 yards from my front door is not lost on us as we sit in our rather posh van and watch him casually saunter down the street towards us. We still leave early enough to take a fairly leisurely trip northwards towards the village of Great Ayton.

As driver, I miss out on the entertainment in the back provided by the van's rather swish DVD player. However, the guys' choice of viewing is pretty good to listen to, even though I can't see it - Curb Your Enthusiasm. Listening to Larry David trying to hard to be affable helps the hours tick and the miles click, and before we know it we're able to take a break in a Yorkshire little chef. Nothing too remarkable about this place, other than the fact that the girl at the till is called Tilly, which amuses me rather more than it probably should.

Great Ayton proves to be a very picturesque village, and my famously navigationally gifted nose leads us straight to the W.I. Hall. Yes, folks, for the first time in my longer than average, moderately illustrious career, I am to appear in a venue whose principle purpose is to house members of the Women's Institute as they.... um.... well, I'm not sure what they get up to these days, and I'm not going to tread that high wire that stretches between chauvinism and political correctness by speculating on their activities. If there are any members of the W.I. out there among my readership, drop us a line and describe a typical meeting.

Anyway, we're greeted by Wayne, our sound engineer for the evening, and Stuart, who, as promoter, has invited us along. Chris takes it upon himself to be chief cameraman for the next two hours, and proceeds to document every move of every human being he happens to stumble upon, including our regular support band in these parts GET VEGAS. Chris immediately thrusts the lens in their faces as they try to load in, asking them penetrative journalistic questions like "All right?" and "Been busy then?". They humour him politely.

After a soundcheck that went like a well-oiled machine, and a vegetable lasagne that will live long in the memory, we all adjourn to the dressing room, where Get Vegas bite their nails in the hope that Middlesborough will cling on to their 1-0 lead over Arsenal (they won't), and I delight in the news that Fernando Torres has scored again for Liverpool. Dave, Chris and Si shun these surroundings in favour of the van and more 'Curb....'

Just before showtime, I'm chuffed to be greeted by my great old friends Ralph and Kath from Guisborough (see Jon's Blog Archive "The Black Cat, The Chicken Wrap, And Successfully Locating My Arse"), who bring along a photograph taken about 12 or 13 years ago, in which I look depressingly young and full of zeal. Indeed, this is a night for meeting up again with old friends as well as new - great to see Gordon and Simon once again and share some great memories.

Despite the distinctly un-rock and roll venue (once again I risk sexism - how rock and roll does the Women's Institute get??) the gig is highly enjoyable, if a little loud. Dave suffers the first of three string-breaks that are to occur on this tour and ducks out of "In The Devil's Back Yard". I suspect this is a convenient excuse for a cigarette break... Either way the gig rocks, the dancefloor fills, the sweet scent of perfume wafts up to the stage, and feedback from a sell-out crowd is positive to say the least. W.I. Halls rock!

SUNDAY MARCH 16th 2008 - MARYPORT R'n'B CLUB
I awake earlier than I would have liked to, with that horrible disoriented feeling whereby you have no idea where you are or what time it is, and then I remember that I am at the residence of my top mate and Beezer Geezer Russ 'The Chief' Cherrington, and it's probably about 11am. We had arrived in the early hours of the morning following a drive across the country on the A66. Dave, Chris and Si had disappeared straight to bed (lightweights), and Russ had presented me with a glass of his finest Glenlivet malt whisky before he retired to the living room to watch the Grand Prix. That was when I hit the sack. Now, however, the thought of one of Russ's world class brunches, the smell of coffee, and the sound of voices in the kitchen beneath me combine to tempt me from my slumber.

Today is the day we revisit Maryport Labour Club, home of Maryport R'n'B Club. Russ joins us in the van for the journey from Carlisle, and he is an excellent tour guide as we snake our way alongside the Solway Firth, through tiny Cumbrian villages with evocative names, like Aspatria and Crosby Villa. Russ tells us that bare-knuckle boxing is the pastime of choice in these parts, and after hearing this news, the boys in the back seem keen to keep the van moving.

As dressing rooms go, the back room at the labour club is pretty entertaining, as it furnished with its very own full-size snooker table, although it has to be said that the standard of snooker that Dave and I produce as we wait to go on is fairly lamentable, with the exception of a few Rocket Ronnie style long pots by Yours Truly (typically, not captured on camera).

Ever since the days of visiting the Captain Nelson with my old AMOR band, I've enjoyed coming up to Maryport and playing for this merry band of gig-goers, and today is no exception, despite the early 4pm start. The crowd is full of colourful characters as ever, chief amongst them being the ever-present Leon, who hoots and hollers encourgement after every number. It's another string-breaking set - my B-string casualty in Hardhat is swiftly followed by a snap by Dave in 24 Hours (oh, another fag opportunity, DD?). I stretch out the solo in 1999 to give him more time to change it, and poor Si is in danger of suffering a Hernia as he pummels out the beat...

Once again, Russ's henchmen Hoss and Rob are present, along with Russ's lovely wife Sam, and we humbly thank them and The Chief for all their help in selling CDs and getting our gear packed up and ready for us to hit the road south back to The Shire. Indeed, we made remarkably good time back to Wiltshire, even despite a lengthy stop for food at the award-winning Westmorland services on the M6 (overrated if you ask me - stick up a bit of authentic looking timber and sell some jam and you get an award?!)

Anyway, that's all for now. Next blog will concern a trip to The Riga Music bar in Southend...

Jon

PS - Thanks for all your interest in my Venus Flytrap. It seems that it's hard to advise on the care of a plant unless one can see it, so I've tried to oblige with the video below. All tips welcome!