I discovered a new spin on the commute to ‘work’ last week.
Crawling off a couch / matress with a throat like a chimney sweeps, hungry, late , with your own songs buzzing around your head in an insanely annoying way.
Example: 11am car journeys to the studio.
Backseat: Chandy or Scott
I’m still very bleary eyed, I’ve left my glasses at the studio so I’m not seeing as well as I ought to.
I want the nice man on Radio 4 to make it all go away, to tell me about Gaddafi’s overdue demise, a rallying call for Latin to be be taught in primary schools…. The Archers! I’ll even listen to the Archers , anything but talk to these people – my oldest freinds and fellow creators: The Band. Please, just don’t talk to me about the F&*&* band. Not yet, we haven’t even had a bacon sandwich yet!
But every morning – before I get in the car or in the car or once I get out of the car! We start talking about the songs, the next gig… I find these conversations at this particular point in the day knit a knot in my tummy and make my shoulders so taught the bones start to creak… my knuckles tighten and whiten. I bite my lip and growl quietly.
Luckily when get out the car, I see Joe