23rd September 2017
A short flight and Seattle looks impressive as we drive in. The day is warm. The centre sprouts up like something perfectly animated in right angles. Pine trees line the motorway and I see a distant mass of water, arching feats of random engineering and magical pot plant roof gardens. It looks clean and optimistic. It is busy. Saturday, says our driver. I think we are entering now through an upmarket arrondissement.
I am overwhelmed with tiredness. I have family arriving in this city from Vancouver to watch the show. I fear I will not see them. I am going to cry off soundcheck again tonight and trust again in my crew. I need something to eat and quiet. Cold meds. Crap TV. All these things.
My room is high up and has double aspect windows. The bed is large and looks delicious. The sound of the ice machine outside, however, reverberates through the walls. I call down.
‘Are you aware how noisy the ice machine is?’
‘Yes.’ She is. She will send someone up.
Patently she does and quickly it is silent.
I feel like a grown up.
It’s 4 pm and I order a room service burger. Just that. No chips.
It arrives cold. Tastes of lard and costs me 30 dollars.
It was charmingly delivered though.
I lay out my clothes. Delay getting ready ’til the last, and then meet Tim in the Foyer.
The stage is large and vaguely semi circular and the room is packed and heaving. The roar as we come on and indeed between every song is phenomenal. Everyone is excitable and at one point Matron Moyet appeared, stopping the song, and warmly suggesting they shut the fuck up. That I was an old lady, and not here for my health, and to fuck off down the pub if they wanted a chat. Something of that nature. They took it in good spirit and tried very hard to concentrate during more tender moments, ADHD permitting. The other element of the crowd, the listeners, were onside and glad of it I think. Loving and appreciative, incorrigible and naughty and briefly they were all mine.
I hightailed it again. I wish I didn’t have to but I am struggling to stay on top of my promises and to maintain a voice that I can manipulate appropriately for every show. 2 weeks down, 13 weeks to go. A silent travel day tomorrow. I will be glad of it.