This time he's quite anxious. It seems that his pet cat, Ploppy, has been plopping herself down rather too much, of late while at home in London. Despite being tempted with Chinese takeaway (her favourite food) she’s not responding. It’s tough being a travelling muso when you’ve got a sick pet at home.
Otherwise the journey was quite nice with (surprise, surprise), bright sunshine all the way. The van, just humming along. We stop for gas and an older gentleman pulls up next to me in a seriously tricked – out Porshe Cayenne. He’s wearing a few too many gold chains and medallions but tells me he’s in the oil business after questioning the contents of the ‘toy-box’ we are pulling. I tell him it’s musical equipment and that we are a band. He says, “my son’s a musician, but he’s no good. Some pretty good musicians came out of England. The Beatles, remember them?” I nod, in the affirmative. Somehow, while pumping our gas, we get onto the subject of India. He tells me he’d lived in India. I tell him we toured there 3 times. “Get outta here” he says. Where?” He then gets on to the subject of how his son had a place in Puna, India, “stocked with hot and cold-running chicks.” The son later went onto marry a German doctor, took her back to the Puna pad and “needless to say that was the end of that marriage.” All this, while standing at the petrol pump. You have the strangest encounters in the desert. As we pull out of the filling station, we see a sign ‘Alien Fresh Jerky’. What does it all mean? I had to get a photo.
Finally, we arrive at the Coach House in the beautiful town of San Juan Capistrano. It’s one of our favourite venues and lo and behold, there’s a contingent of Scotsmen hanging in the bar offering to help us load gear. Dave C. and Co. from Perth are making their annual pilgrimage, hooking up with fellow Ash fans from Phoenix, as well as Cali Dan…The gang’s all here. We play a great set and afterwards, Muddy Manninen overhears this nice, mixed group of people talking about penis size and so on. He’s quite perplexed. I get talking to them and it’s our old fan from St. Louis, the sex therapist (your name always escapes me). He introduces me to one of his colleagues. It seems they are having ‘mini convention’ at the Ash show. I love our fans. They are such a diverse bunch. After a long day and and show, I go to settle up finances in the office at The Coach House and myself and the venue’s manager have a funny conversation about tinnitus while struggling to hear each other. It’s time for bed. Gotta get up early in the morning. We are to play the outstanding venue, Humphries By The Bay in San Diego but before that we want to go down to Dana Point where we’ll meet up with a certain reknowned drummist, Mr. Ray Weston, who, as many of you will know, has made his home here with his wife Kelly. More later.
~ A.P.
