Thursday 6 August 2009

Heathrow Terminal 1
I slept on and off on the way back, aided by having two seats to myself, and hindered by, at one point, four babies screaming simultaneously.  Even after a night’s sleep, Heathrow is a dismal place, claustrophobic and depressing. But once you’re outside again, it throws into relief the sheer beautiful impossibility of these huge elegant monsters out on the tarmac that somehow make it into the air and back down again. And just happen to use unfeasible amounts of oil ...

This was in the Herald yesterday - yes, it is depressing that in Scotland we still have to have the basic arguments about playing on old instruments, but Jonathan Mills says very nice things about us ... and I'm delighted that people are snarling up their noses at my presence in his festival. Ha ha ha ...

later, at home
Catherine just sent me some photos from Tuesday night's late gig ...

starting the Marshall-Burns set

a happy boy with a big farty Estey blasting through the Bedding of the Bride - note flask of water and glass of beer on the top, we've been playing for over 4 hours by this point

standup moment

a rare photographic record of the whole Vortex