I fell asleep somewhere near the French/German border. We didn't pass between the countries but we were close enough to pick up both German and French wireless services as we made our way through the winding villages. I dreamt I was talking with an Italian promoter about minor character differences between myself and my girlfriend, he nodded understandingly and then said he was surprised at what I was telling him because "of who my girlfriend was." I was puzzled by this sentence before realising that he thought I was dating Isobel Campbell of Belle and Sebastian fame. I rolled my eyeballs, as if this mistake is common, and started to correct him when a massive pothole jolted me awake, straight into the unblinking eye of a camera lens. "Have you just woken up" asked Paul in an interview style "tell us about it."
We bombed along 450 miles of foreign highway yesterday with sound engineer Avalon Gold and I sharing the driving, trying to get to the Swiss border by sundown. We stopped about 10 miles short and found a cheap hotel in a town called Mulhouses that is probably a French rural equivalent to Rotherham or Doncaster. A couple of beers and a deliciously continental pizza later and we crashed for the night... now we are at the Swiss border, literally being drilled by border control as I write this. Hope they don't find the nine and a half kilos of black-tar heroin that I've smuggled through for the days off.
currently listening to: lots of metal in the van
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