Tour blog #1:
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Luckily for you, dear reader, yesterday's diary entry was lost, due to technical incompetence. Suffice to say, we loaded the car, drove to the Le Shuttle in Folkstone, then sped on to our overnight stop in the beautiful Belgian town of Ghent.
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En route, Sue initiated the inaugural meeting of the Rivers of England Talk Club. And the first rule of Talk Club is... you don't fight about Talk Club. In this opening session, we covered everything from gender politics to Palestine. And all without a fist being raised. But it's early days.
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0ur accommodation was in a characferful old building at the heart of Ghent's historic centre, overlooking the river. We were greeted by the enthusiastic and ever-present Brian (I know... what are the chances?), who helpfully talked us through the in-house beer menu. These were all delicious and ranged, in alcohol content, between strong and borderline dangerous.
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Realising we'd not properly eaten aIl day (well, one of us did), we'd pre-loaded on frites, overlooking the picturesque river in evening sunshine. After our hostel beers, we then went in search of some more substantial sustenance. We settled on a pizza place that was reasonable on price and funky in decor.
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A group of blokes arrived at the same time as us and were told there was only space at the bar. Whereas, we were directed to a table upstairs. Which was literally empty. But it soon filled with couples. This left us wondering what assumptions they'd made about the status of our little threesome.
Anyway, the pizzas were good. And we happily strolled back for a nightcap at the hostel. On the way, we came across a gathering of mostly younger people, one or two with flags we didn't recognise, in a small square. A band was just finishing, which was followed by quite an animated - and enthusiastically received - speaker. We couldIn't tell whether this was a protest or celebration.
Back at the hostel, we gave Brian some suggestions for music to add to his Spotify list. Unfortunately, we neglected to mention Rivers of England. But we did leave a note at the desk before departure in the morning. Which - no doubt - will have by now found it's way to the waste paper.
Retiring to our riverside suite (dorm room with 3 bunks), we were then Serenaded to sleep by the massed voices of the Ghent inebriati. By morning, these had been replaced by a percussion section of bin trucks, tram cars and church bells. Rob was first up, heading out in search of a mandatory warning triangle and a charging adaptor for the car (which is old enough to have a cigarette lighter and no USB port). Needless to say, he found neither. Sue followed, braving the brisk morning chill for a 3-mile jog. Brian, meanwhile, settled for a leisurely breakfast, whilst finishing up yesterday's diary entry. Which he duly lost.
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Tour blog #2:
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One For The Team
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Leaving Ghent under clear autumnal skies, Rob was alarmed to find that Google had added over an hour to the predicted journey time. Swift new calculations were made concerning our plan of action on arrival but we were confident all would be well. Around 20 minutes into the journey, Rob said; "Our journey time has come down by 20 minutes!". "Yes ..." said Sue, from the co-driver seat.
One observation we have made during our time on the road is that there is strong representation for the trans community, here in mainland Europe. Slogans so far encountered adorning the sides of HGVs have appeared to be both pro and anti. These have included: 'Stop Trans', 'Total Trans', 'Trans Possible', 'Fair Trans' and 'Trans Aid'. Lovely to see truckers getting in touch with their true gender identities.
In spite of the predicted delays, we were at the venue in Dueshorn in time to set up, soundcheck and get a few moments' rest before the gig. The venue is a beautiful old church, which Sue played just a few weeks ago with Daisy Chapman. Brian and Rob had last performed here some eight years ago, on a previous Rivers of England tour.
The acoustic here is lovely and very forgiving. We used a modest amount of amplification but flute and backing vocals were fine without. Our audience was attentive and appreciative, with many buying multiple CDs. During the break, a group of young lads stopped Rob outside and asked if they could get a photo with him. They then tried to ask something else, which Rob couldn't quite understand. So they typed their request into a phone and used Google Translate. It read "Can we get a picture with your bald colleague too?". Apparently, no offense was intended...
Afterwards, our host, Bernd - the church vicar - fed us royally with a tasty veg curry accompanied by local beers. Inevitably, the conversation moved on to whisky. Bernd is something of a connoisseur. Actually, he's quite a serious expert. He has a collection of whiskies that is awe-inspiring. And he's never less than keen to share.
It would have been rude to refuse. Two out of the three band members are whisky drinkers. One, a little more enthusiastic than the other. Fortunately, for all concerned, that particular band member is not required for driving duties in the morning. Whiskies sampled included Rob's favourite: Glenfarclas, one of Brian's favourites, Ardbeg Uiagedal and Bernd's recommendation Laphroig Lore. In addition. they sampled a liquor from early in the whisky-making process, which is clear and alarmingly potent. Sue looked on with amusement. Eventually, both she and Rob decided it was time to call a halt. Bernd showed us the sleeping arrangements before declaring 'But first, I think we should finish the Uiagedal'. Rob and Sue respectfully declined. Brian took one for the team.
Tour blog #3:
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Accidentally On Porpoise
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This morning, Sue rose from her comfortable bed and Brian from his semi-comfortable sofa bed, having had a good night's sleep. Rob, on the other hand, had refused the offer of a mattress. Instead, he had insisted on using the roll mat and sleeping bag brought for emergency use. And hadn't slept well at all. As the locals say: 'selbe schuld'.
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Bernd plied us with warm rolls and freshly brewed coffee, then we hit the road for Kiel. Arriving in good time, we wandered down to the harbour side. Here, we encountered a reconstruction of a 14th century sailing ship that originally transported goods between Kiel, Copenhagen and Brest. And King's Lynn - which happens to be where Rob was born.
We settled at a quayside café, looking across the water to the naval docks opposite. Rob spotted something in the water and we soon realised it was a group of porpoises. What a joy to see such creatures in close proximity amidst the industrial landscape.
Now revived, we headed back into town. Rob went off for some retail therapy, while Sue and Brian installed themselves in Starbucks, to take advantage of reliable wifi and overpriced coffee. Sue pretended to be catching up on admin, so as to discourage Brian from talking. Brian, meanwhile, pretended to be doing some of his own, so as not to appear offended.
Arriving promptly at the venue, we were met with a curt "We're not open yet" from the owner, Willy. However, once he was ready for us, he couldn't have been more welcoming. And his bar "Cafe Prinz Willy" was a fabulous space, with a well-equipped stage, complete with upright piano. This we didn't use, except to stow the lid of our borrowed harmonium under. Which we forgot about and later realised we'd left behind. (Don't worry, Neil, we'll be back this way and can pick it up in a few days.)
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The barmaid apologised that not many had pre-booked, saying they don't usually get many walk-ins. In the event, it was just about full - so what does she know? The audience was a pleasing mix of young and not-so-young. Among the more venerable was a local called Catto. He accosted us during the break to say how wonderful we were. And that he wanted to buy a copy of every CD, provided we signed then for him. Oh, OK then...
Having cut the set short for a quick get-away, an encore was - of course -demanded. So we tagged on a song dropped from the first set. Which proved to be an excellent way to finish up. Funny how these things work themselves out.
A certain fragrance hit our noses as we loaded the car. But enquiries of those outside the venue failed to illicit anything. They did say they could help if we could wait. But it was time to hit the road. Our plan was to win some time by driving during the post-gig comedown,
This worked well and after 3 hours or so we came to our motel. From the outside, this looked like some kind of detention centre. Creeping in quietly, so as not to disturb other residents, we were then blinded by the stark strip lighting. Spotting a table lamp, Sue switched it on and killed the main light. This plunged us into near total darkness. Which - for some reason - reduced us to helpless fits of giggles. You probably had to be there.
Tour blog #4:
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That's Rock 'n' Roll!
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With no breakfast opportunity in the immediate vicinity of the detention centre, we set off for the autobahn. We stopped at the first services signposted with the international symbol for 'disappointing food available'. And this one didn't disappoint. Meaning it did. There was only one small building, alongside the filling station, containing a shop and limited food counter. So, vending-machine coffee and dry cheese sandwiches were enjoyed at a high, standing table. Yum. As we left, we saw another, much larger, building at the far end of the parking spaces. Which had a proper, sit-down restaurant, complete with a lovely sun terrace. Oh well.
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Later, stopping for lunch at another services, we found this one had a host of food counters and a Burger King. Which were closed. Apart from a very limited offering that had everything to do with meat and potatoes and nothing to do with veg. Oh well.
We reached Maintal in good time and our host, Bea, was happy for us to load-in ahead of the arranged time. As we would be stopping the night after our gig, Sue was given a room on the premises (which doubles as the green room), whilst Rob and Brian were shown to a hotel up the road. This was very empty and very '70s in decor and feel. Bea consistently referred to it as "the Shining hotel".
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Soundcheck was a little problematic but we managed to coax our little system back into shape eventually. We were then treated to a delicious, homemade soup with cheese semolina dumplings and rye bread on the side. Joy.
The venue is a cosy little bar, run by Bea and her partner Ian. They are a very engaging and hospitable pair, who turn their space into a kind of private club on music nights. And the good news was they'd sold out well in advance. This may have had something to do with Sue's recent appearance here with Daisy Chapman, at which they'd plugged tonight's show. And the gig was a triumph. We had a terrific response and Bea said "it was just perfect". As is common here, our fee was by way of a 'hat' collection. Well, we didn't get any hats... but there was a lot of money. Lovely people.
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Both during and afterwards, Ian kept us topped-up with beers. He also insisted we try his spirit, distilled from his own-brewed beer. We didn't even know that was a thing. But it was remarkably smooth. And predictably warming. There followed more chat and a little more beer. And a little more to take back with us. It felt a little odd to be strolling up the high street with half-litre glasses in hand. But hey... that's rock 'n' roll!
Tour blog #5:
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The Drama Continues
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Having told us they 'might have a little muesli' for breakfast, Bea and Ian - of course - produced bacon, eggs, delicious bread, cake and freshly-brewed tea and coffee. Which set us up nicely for the drive back up North to Bremen. En-route, we also made an excellent services choice, finding somewhere with wi-fi, plentiful seating and... salad!
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Rob decided to use this break as an opportunity to book ferry tickets for tomorrow's crossing to Nordeney. Naturally, this was not - ahem - plain sailing. But after several aborted attempts, he managed to complete the task. As a precaution, Rob sent a copy of the confirmation to Sue's phone. Who then spotted that the journeys were the wrong way around and asked - rhetorically - "When will the drama end?". Brian, being a relatively fluent German speaker tried calling the helpline but was directed back to the website. In the end it was relatively easy to cancel and rebook. Drama over. Or not. Coming into Bremen after a further couple of hours' motorway cruising, we hit an almighty snarl-up, just before our destination. Being Sunday, we'd not anticipated heavy traffic. However, we later discovered, Bremen's answer to Oktoberfest was happening just nearby the hotel.
It was unclear where we should park and difficult to manoeuvre amid the queues. So Rob jumped out and ran ahead to check our options. Before he was able call through with information, Sue and Brian had already passed the hotel, so had to go around the block and rejoin the melée. On the second pass, Rob was able to guide them to a recommended multi- story car park. This - in addition to the usual automated barriers - had metal shutters. There were signs announcing these would automatically raise as you approach. They didn't.
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So now we were stuck behind the shutters, with a queue of other hopefuls close behind. Brian ran around to the hotel entrance to seek further advice. When he returned with a map showing alternative parking. a local driver was at the gate, trying to see what the problem was.
He spotted there was a button on the barrier's ticket machine, beyond the shutters, whereby you could call for assistance. This he did, explaining the system appeared not to have recognised our number plate, as it's in the 'wrong' format. Then, as if by magic, it was '0pen Sesame'. Drama over.
This evening. there was no gig, so we enjoyed a beer in the hotel bar before going in search of supper. Not far away was a decent enough Italian restaurant, with all the usual suspects at reasonable prices. This had emptied by the time we finished eating. So we set off in search of somewhere a little livelier.
This we found in a nearby, underground Irish bar, imaginatively named 'Paddy's'. Here, we enjoyed pints of Murphy's and marveled at the display of projectile vomit in the gents' toilet.. At the bar sat a curious older guy in leather jacket and shades. Everytime Fleetwood Mac's 'Dreams' came over the sound system, he was compelled to rise from his stool, face the green-lit wall and break out some semi-robotic moves.
Also at the bar was what looked like a stunt-Irishmen, complete with pale skin and red beard. When the Dancer of Dreams came towards him, he pointedly protected his pint and moved away. Perhaps they had history... The drama continues.​​​​
Tour blog #6:
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Why Not?
This morning, we had been invited for coffee by our beloved agent, Heiko, at his flat in Bremen. He seemed on good form and is busy with various music- and tech enterprises, none of which we fully understood. But it was good to see him and he was keen to keep some momentum for Rivers' German-based activity.
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WhiIst there, Rob bought some replacement batteries for his guitar pickup. Which he then left at Heiko's. Fortunately, he had installed and checked one set, so it was just the spares that were lost.
To ensure we didn't have too relaxing a time getting to the ferry for Norderney, a tractor had been arranged to slow our progress for the final approach. We decided to drop our gear close to the quayside and have Rob then park up and rejoin on foot. The weather was now foul. Sue and Brian manhandled the various bits of kit and instruments, in relay, to a covered area. Then we managed to somehow carry everything, first to the terminal and then on board.
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The crossing was grey and dreary but quite bracing up on deck in the wind and rain. At the other side, as expected, Tobi was waiting for us, with his wild blonde hair and goofie grin. Our transport was one of his many brewery-branded electric vehicles. This had space for one passenger up front and a box-like loading area with roller-shutters in the back. Sue rode in style in the cab, whilst Rob and Brian had the full stow-away experience, plunged into darkness along with the kit behind.
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Our digs were in the top flat of an apartment block Tobi has bought to house brewery workers.
The gig itself was in Tobi's brewery. This is a fabulous space, in among the brewing paraphernalia. There is a small bar and beer benches. They had bought-in extra chairs specially for the occasion. Which - amazingly for a Monday night - filled up. Doris, Tobi's partner - who handles promo - said they can only really advertise a week ahead, as there is a constant flow of new visitors to the island. So this was a pleasant surprise for us all.
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A stage was constructed from pallets and ply-board. Tobi augmented our sound system with a little extra speakerage. And - with the addition of some lighting - we had ourselves a cool little venue. With beers, quite literally, on tap. Tobi and Doris's daughter, Frances, ensured we were well-lubricated throughout. He brews a Pilsner, a Dunkelbier (malt ale) and an alcohol-free beer. All are unfiltered and unpasfeurised. Which - it transpires - makes them both very drinkable and - thankfully - not too hangover-inducing. We sampled the latter, pre-gig, then really sampled the others during and after. Really, sampled.
Once the audience, which had been very appreciative - demanding two encores - dispersed, Tobi turned up the music and the madness. There was silly dancing and over-the-top singing to a perfect mix of ska, punk, Elvis, Frank Sinatra, Johnny cash and other drink-along greats.
Back at their house - a gruelling 2-metre commute distant - we were then introduced to 'Hitster' (I won't mention what predictive text tried to call that...). This is like a kind of music-based Trivial Pursuit. Which is better than it sounds. And more hilarity ensued.
Finally, alter a little multi-player, multi-voice piano improv., we managed to tear ourselves away. It had been truly a night to remember. 0r possibly forget. I can only suggest that anyone faced with the possibility of a gig in a brewery, especially this brewery, should follow Tobi's example when contemplating another beer. And say to themselves:
"Why not?"
Tour blog #7:
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More Beers? Well, Maybe a Couple...
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Our flat in Nordeney had two rooms. Each had a dormer window with black-out-inducing wooden shutters. Unfortunately, Sue had overlooked these, so woke unnecessarily early after a fulsome night's revelry. In spite of this, she managed a six-mile run before breakfast. Respect is due.
At Tobi and Doris's, a wonderful breakfast spread was waiting. Doris - in particular - was struggling to function but insisted on making us all coffees. Tobi was subdued but still managed to provide crazy interludes amid the relative quiet.
Returning to collect our gear from the brewery, we witnessed the beer-bottling process in action. Tobi explained that nothing is exported from the island and all the bottles are washed and re-used multiple times. We'd all hoped to take a bottle or two home with us but the nature of the brewing means that - unless kept chilled - they are likely to explode! Or maybe that's just what Tobi says to protect the mystique.
The man is a legend. He has a background in renewable energy and - in the face of mass-scepticism - runs everything, including his delivery vehicles, on solar power, as far as possible. And finds time to keep a small studio, where he rehearses his acoustic-punk band.
When we went to load up our gear into Tobi's wagon, we discovered he had - of course - done this for us. Rob and Brian, once again, took the rear. From which an amusing cacophone of farmyard sounds emanated. Amusing to them anyway.
Fond farewells were bid. Then we headed through the barriers of the ferry terminal. Which remained stubbonly closed. So we heaved all our gear over to the info kiosk. Our tickets were valid but we'd overlooked the tourist tax.
That all sorted, we boarded the ferry. After a brief stint on deck, looking out into the persistent gloom, we dispersed about the lounge area to enjoy a little solitary down time. Don't think we've not been getting along. But Brian does like to talk...
Once landed, Sue stayed with the gear while Brian accompanied Rob to the car park in case any tricky negotiation was needed in order to leave. However - just this once - there was no drama. Likewise, at Emden - a short drive away - we managed to find the venue easily and park just outside.
Café Einstein is a more traditional cafe-bar venue. It has a modest but well-equipped PA and even somebody to run it, the ever-helpful and smiley Heiko. The stage was small but adequate, with enough lighting to provide atmosphere and focus. And, though our needs were few - following last night's excess - they were happy to provide drinks at no cost. UK venues take note.
Though the café doesn't do food, beyond a selection of delicious cakes, they were happy to recommend various eateries and reimburse us for whatever we chose. The local Thai place was busy and had a good selection of veggie options. The reception at first appeared frosty. But we soon realized the staff were working their arses off to keep on top of a full restaurant, as well as take away orders.
Just as we were considering the need to move on so we could eat in time for the gig, our orders were taken. The food then arrived promptly. And we were very glad of our decision to stay. There were large plates of freshly cooked, spiced vegetables; crispy tofu; and a plentiful supply of fluffy rice. Delicious.
Having lowered our expectations for a Tuesday gig, we were pleasantly surprised to find a good crowd at the venue. As showtime approached, it was pretty much fuIl. And we were pleased to note there was a good spread of age-groups represented.
One slight downer was the smoking room - with open doorway - adjacent to the stage. However, the fallout wasn't too noticeable. Performing, as we have throughout the tour, with a mix of amplified and acoustic sound was a little demanding in this relatively dead acoustic space. But afterwards several people said it was a great sound and assured as they could hear everything - including the harmonium - clearly.
One of the more enthusiastic 'locals' turned out to be an expat. He has been in Emden for 30-odd years and explained that Tuesday night at Cafe Einstein is something of an institution. Long may it continue.
Tour blog #8
'Hello Lübeck!'
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The nice people at Café Einstein arranged for us to stay in the makeshift loft space of a shared house in the centre of Emden. Its roof was lined with white cloth that had been stapled to the timbers. Lumpy mattresses were positioned under the eaves and there were various speakers about the space.The whole thing had the feel of a hippy squat. And was most likely a hippy squat.
We were up and off early in order to retrieve the harmonium lid we'd left behind after our gig at Prinz Willy's in Kiel. Fortunately, this wasn't too much of a detour and Willy was ready and waiting. So we were able to quickly resume our journey on to Lübeck.
The historical centre of Lübeck is stunning. There is an iconic stone gateway; a crumbling, many-towered cathedral that survived bombing by the RAF in 1942; a grand old Maritime Guild building; and - evidently - a reputation for producing marzipan.
And tonight's venue - Tonfink - was just on the edge of all this, in a quirky, high-ceilinged bar that managed to feel both historic and contemporary. Our host, Carolin, recommended the curry from the in-house menu. Which was delicious.
We soundchecked, then were shown the basement storage for our bags and cases. Down there, it was something of a labyrinth. This immediately brought to mind a scene from 'This is Spinal Tap', in which the band is unable to find their way to the stage. Which Rob and Brian set-about recreating.
By 8pm, the place was nicely full. Carolyn was very appreciative and said how much she'd loved the soundcheck. This she also relayed to the audience, empIoring them to buy CDs and give generously to the dog. Yes, the dog. Here, rather than passing a hat round, punters are invited to cram money into an old stuffed terrier!
In spite of a couple of minor sound issues, it was enjoyable to perform in a larger space, through a full PA. However, the crowd was quite subdued. And not quite as generous as Carolyn - and we - might have hoped. To find out just how generous, she informed me, Rob was sent to the kitchen to 'slaughter the dog'. Hmmm.
From the comments we received afterwards, it was clear the crowd had enjoyed and appreciated our music. But - as previously observed - it seems harder to convert this to loud applause (and hard cash) in established, city centre venues. Whereas, with more home-spun gigs, our appearance feels more like an 'event'.
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But it was a good evening, a cracking venue and a fitting end to what has been a successful tour. We have established that this latest configuration of Rivers of England works well in spite of the absence of other members unable to attend.
We have formed new connections and rekindled old friendships. We have eaten our body weight in bread and drunk many times that in beer. Sue and Rob have driven safely and Brian has been just annoying enough to keep them both focussed and alert.
Every one of the venues has been run by enthusiastic, energetic and welcoming characters. And each has said they would love to have us back. Heiko is similarly keen for us to continue what we've started. We'll see.
And we're not home yet...
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(If you're not a Spinal Tap fan - this will make no sense to you: https://www.instagram.com/p/DBwksadsaYC/?hl=en )
Tour blog #9 (final post)
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Good To Be Back
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After last night's final tour-gig, we packed up quickly and set off for our brief stopover, 3 hours down the road in Osnabruck. The journey went smoothly and we managed to park right outside the hi-tech B & B Hotel. Grabbing our bags, we aimed to be in and asleep as quickly as possible.
The automated check-in machine, however, had other ideas. The questions and verifications seemed endless. But, eventually, we were allowed through the electronic portal. And settled down for 3 1/2 hours' lying horizontally, with varying amounts of actual sleep.
Up again at the crack of 6am, Rob and Sue took turns to drive. Brian, meanwhile, caffeinated himself sufficiently to provide support and just enough annoyance, from the passenger seat, to keep them going. In this fashion, we managed to quickly round Hamburg; grind through the morning rush of Dusseldorf, Duisburg, etc. and push on past Eindhoven ahead of the predicted schedule.
At the first change-over, Rob forgot how a petrol-station entrance works. So, we had a little detour into a hotel car park. A little later, Sue asked: "Shall we take another look at Ghent?", then proceeded to take a wrong turn that almost took us back there. But these momentary lapses only cost us a couple of minutes. And were, of course, Brian's fault.
Once at the Le Shuttle terminal, we availed ourselves of the free toilets and over-priced-coffee-subsidised seating in Starbucks (other over-priced coffee franchises are available). Then we joined the queue to join the drive-on train. This required two sets of border-control checks and one ticket verification.
At the French border stood very intimidating soldiers in full combat fatigues, carrying semi-automatic rifles. Why? As we waited to pass these lovely gentlemen, we couldn't help but notice a gold-clad Bentley in an adjacent queue. We could only assume the driver was some kind of complete tosser.
Finally pulling up next to the kiosk for our ticket inspection, spirits were high. Rob - in the driver's seat - replied to a jovial message from Tobi on Nordeney. And we waited.
After some time, we saw a hi-viz-wearing individual apparently walking away from the kiosk. Then Sue observed there was nobody inside. Nor behind any of the other windows. Reversing back a little, we discovered a machine that had a touchscreen bearing our details on it. Which merely required the press of a green button to confirm these were correct. We really don't do well with barriers.
On the train, a cheesy English voice and a far more alluring French one asked us to refrain from sitting alongside or passing between the vehicles. Which several people proceeded to do. But we're Brits and won't be told! We've taken back control (men with scary guns notwithstanding).
Shortly thereafter, we witnessed some astonishingly aggressive driving on the M20. But then things settled down. After a quick loo-break in Kent, we settled-in for the final drive home.
Our first stop was Brian's house, at which Sue had left her car for the week. There was quite a crowd outside and we wondered whether news of our return had reached the British media. But - of course - it was October 31st. So local children and their parents were observing the time-honoured tradition of mindlessly copying whatever Americans do.
Good to be back!
