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Back to the Plough in Great Torrington after five years away.
I sold 49 tickets last time I was here, but this year a respectable 121. That is quite a need indication of how things have got better for me on tour in the last 5 years (and the last time was still after the kick that podcasting had already given me, so if I’d been here in the noughties, I assume I’d have had about 20 people in. It’s slow progress, but at least my record of over 100 (or 100% sold) has not yet fallen. It might only last a couple of days as I am still about 10 ticket sales short of the ton in Dartmouth and I am fairly sure that Scarborough isn’t going to make it.
Anyway, I had a bit of an emotional time leaving my family behind and the five and a half hour drive to Devon was draining even though I was being driven by Welsh Ray. It was actually too far to do in one day - we could have been in Scotland in this time - and it did affect the show a bit as I felt light-headed from tiredness on stage. That’s incredibly unusual. More evidence that I have to rein things in a little as I get older.
So far on this tour we have hardly ever stayed in the same town as we’ve just played. We’ve either gone home, or driven on towards the next gig, or I’ve been flying solo and not had Welsh Ray with me. In Cheddar we had had a drink at my parents house, but post-gig tonight was the first time that we’d both sat down and had a pint together.
Also unusually we were staying in a pub, rather than a Premier Inn on some kind of industrial estate. It was fairly basic and when I had arrived I’d been a bit worried that I might not get much sleep with the Friday night drinkers in.
It was mildly rowdy, but not in a threatening way. A pair of young women were steaming drunk, one much worse off than her friend, and she tripped and basically head butted the wall. But she was so drunk that she just got up again and sat at the bar. She then tried to chase a man out into the beer garden and went tumbling over her high heels, which basically flew off her feet, right next to our table. I think her head made contact with the wall again. But she bounced up and ran outside in her bare feet. She didn’t come back for her shoes for quite a while and there were reports that she was out in the road. Luckily this was a road in Great Torrington so the chances of her being run over were small. No one would be driving their cart at this time of night.
It was a lively diversion, but she did return unscathed after about half an hour. Luckily I think everyone was looking out for her, so as long as she didn’t brain herself on a wall she wasn’t in too much danger.
It’s been a good while since I spent a Friday night in a pub doing my best to obliterate myself. I couldn’t do it even if I tried. After two pints of Guinness I was more than ready for bed. The shouts from downstairs were noticeable for a few minutes, but then I was asleep. At least until the first of many trips to the loo. There are lots of reasons why I can no longer drink pints near bed time.
