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An extract:
Day Two - Thor's Stone
Weds 26 October
Working without a plan always sounds like a fantastic idea to me when I'm at home. It sounds exciting but sooner or later, you really do have to come up with a plan. Right now, I can either go north, which would eventually bring me to the Lake District, or I can go east which would take me to Bradford/Leeds but I can't think of anything there that I want to see or any place that would sound cool to say I'd played either. Which leaves me going south, because west, there's nothing but the Irish Sea.
South it is. I'm actually pretty close to home turf if I go south. Not 'home turf' as in where I live, but 'home turf' as in where I grew up. Liverpool is the obvious choice on the way there. Considering I lived around the corner, I've never actually been to Liverpool that many times but it sounds appealing. There must dozens of places I could find to play an impromptu street gig if I try hard enough.
Then again, if I get that far, I'm only twenty minutes away from the Wirral where I lived for a few years for most of the nineties. It's a place I'm a lot more familiar with and I can think of a lot of places to play that would at least tug at my heartstrings.
Is taking food out of somebody's fridge stealing? It was something I certainly needed to consider when I emptied them out of all the car snacks I could find in there, but I didn't consider it stealing.
I'd moved the car and was sitting on the promenade once again. I like Blackpool. I wouldn't want to live here but it's a place where you could make something happen quite easily simply because nothing else ever happens. All the things that are great about Blackpool are decades old now and it really is time for something new.
Anyway, that was yesterday.
Today, I need to get moving because I'm on tour damnit.
The weather is strange for almost November. It's a little windy and it's threatening to rain but it's not cold in the slightest - something I'm most grateful for because I doubt I'll be lucky enough to catch a sofa and Chinese takeaway two night on the run.
I'm not in any rush, so more or less follow the coast until I turn the corner at Frodsham/Helsby way. I think I used to know some people who lived here but I can't bring them to mind in the slightest. Then I remember that I don't know anybody here at all. This is the road where I blew my Triumph Spitfire up one sunny morning on my way back from Warrington in something like '94. I knew it would do 80mph if I pushed it, but that was the last thing it ever did.
Somehow, while driving, I had followed my nose, skipped Liverpool without a second thought and gone 'home'. This 'home' thing has been a recurring feature of my life for a long time but it was a home. The closer I got, the more relaxed I felt about being there and I knew I had made the right choice.
I pulled over and wished I was still a smoker but I couldn’t go back now. Still, it would have been something to sit here with the windows down and just suck one down to the filter for old times’ sake. At my best estimation, I had already smoked around 12,400 packets - which is 248,000 cigarettes - and more than enough in anyone’s book.
Before I know it, I'm into the little peninsula known as The Wirral. I lived here for seven years and they were seven good years too. This is where our band Baby Dynamite actually grew up and bore some fruit. Nothing ever happened for us but that's not really the point. If we had made any serious money back then at least one of us would surely be dead. I wouldn't like to say what from, but it's a reasonable assumption.
But where could I set up shop tonight? A few spots pass through my mind - where we used to practice in Wallasey, somewhere in Neston which is the actual town we lived in but I'm not sure I should really show my face there. I pull over again and chew my lip and it comes to me in a flash of inspiration. I don't know if I can get to it and I'm really not sure anybody would turn up but who can avoid playing somewhere called Thor's Stone.
The name itself says there's nowhere else I should even consider, so the deal is done and now only the hard work remains. Thor's Stone is a huge - but scrappy - house sized piece of sandstone in the middle of Thurstaston Common (and only by writing it down at this very moment have I realised how Thurstaston is very similar to Thor's Stone). You have no reason to ever go to Thurstaston unless you are going to set eyes on the stone or you break down while you're on the way to somewhere else. I guess there's a case to be made for wildlife photography but isn't there always.
Back in the day, the first time I went through the place, the name rang a bell somewhere in my head but it was a little while before two and two made four - a fair amount of the initial action in Clive Barker's Weaveworld takes place there. Right inside The Common in fact. Research at the time told me that some local but esteemed historian believed the place to have once been a place of Viking worship where - and I quote - 'festivities and nocturnal assemblies were held in honour of the Norse God, Thor'. Regardless of exactly the amount of truth in this statement, I took it as 100% fact and still do (because if I don't, it's just a big piece of sandstone).
I had to go see... and here I am again, though time has gotten the better of me with exactly how to get there. I'll cross that bridge later. More importantly right now, I need to put my foot down to get some promotion time in.
I pick up the A540 like my phone tells me to and find myself driving on auto-pilot like I never went away.
So far as I recall, there's nothing in Thurstaston to make me think about doing any promo there. It's only the second date on the road but already I'm starting to wonder if it would have been better to engage with social media over it. No. It would have made me lazy and not think about things properly. The nearest town of any value that I can think of where people might come from is Heswall which is just a few miles down the road, so I decide to stop there first.
There used to be a really good Blockbuster video here, but that's long gone, to be replaced by... well, I'm not sure what because I can't recall where it actually was, but there are lots of cafe's around the place now. I drive up and down Telegraph Road to figure out my first move because all I've got is my stash of original flyers and I'm in desperate need of a photocopier to get things rolling. I hit the internet in search of something useful and lo - what's this I see before me! Dimensions Print & Copy Shop, and they have a photocopier.
At this stage of the game, I can't really waste any time trying to talk anybody into doing it for free for me, so I take the whole folder in and decide to rattle off at least fifty of each. That will give me a hundred for each town I stop at and is at least something to fall back on if I get in a pinch again. I think this is one show I might end up playing by myself. What kind of fool picks a Wednesday night to play on a piece of sandstone rock when it looks like God might unzip the sky at any given moment?
I do however manage a little deal with the guy behind the counter when I tell him what I'm up to and how I'm doing it. He runs off what I ask for but only charges half of what the sign says.
"Thanks buddy - be good to see you if you can make it."
"Where is it? You've forgotten to put anything on the bottom."
I tell him that I'm going to write it in back at the car. He says he might come if his girlfriend will let him out. He won't come, but I thank him anyway. After ducking back into the car and doing what I need to do with a Sharpie and the scissors, I stuff tonights flyers into my shoulder bag and wander not just the high street, but also some of the side streets where my map app tells me there are cafe's and restaurants. Some are open. Some aren't. Some are friendly, some not so much but I think that's because I've lost my northern accent after being so long away. This is going to get me nowhere fast but wait... is that a Tesco Superstore I see in the distance?
I pick up my mask from the footwell behind the drivers seat and take it with me. It's going to start getting dark sooner rather than later and I need to get paper into the hands of likely looking people as fast as possible.
Ten minutes later, I'm standing at the trolley park, mask on and people are actually taking the flyers from me. It takes me a little while to figure out what they all might be thinking and realise that Halloween is just around the corner. Any old port in a storm will do me for shelter and anybody that's interested in my performances of some good time supernatural murder ballads (I should copyright that) might even turn up - and hey, while I'm here, I may as well pick up a sandwich and some celebratory/consolation snacks for later while I'm at it.
Back in the car, I notice that it's getting dark pretty fast but it's the same time as it was yesterday when I was working my way through Blackpool.
Blackpool. The Vegas of the north during illuminations season. My, my, how the lights can trick you into thinking everywhere would be like that. I feel stupid. In half an hour it's going to be pitch black up on the common and here I am, all in black with nothing but a slightly scary mask and a black guitar for company. I start the engine and plug my phone in. I have a feeling I might need some kind of power along with me tonight.
Then it occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, I should have brought a change of clothes. Things could get messy before I'm done.