First up, thanks to everyone who phoned, texted, emailed – very nice of you all to call, especially those who only call when you think I might be dead… (just kidding).
So yesterday. Obviously started with bomb news. I had a gig booked with Ned Evett, a fabulous fretless guitarist and singer, who had landed in London the day before. He was, obviously, knackered and jetlagged, so slept very long indeed. His mobile wasn’t working cos he was in Angel – too close to all the shit. Didn’t get in touch with him til about 3.
Tried to get him to get a cab north, but no cabs would go down to Angel. So I had to go and get him.
Told him to start walking up Upper Street, and I’d get him somewhere along there. Got to Upper Street in good time, but then took 40 minutes to do half a mile on the street. Found Ned, loaded up, and headed for the back roads.
The radio announced that the motorways were largely unuseable. So we headed out on the A40, passed the M25 and started to weave through the backroads – Slough, Windsor, Bagshott etc. down to Guildford and onto the A3.
Eventually got to the venue at about 8.50, set up in double quick time, ate fast dinner (were both starving), and I was on stage before 9.30. Did it as one set straight through, with Ned joining me for a couple of improv duets before doing his solo set. A lovely audience of great listening peoples. Sold a bunch of CDs, and had a marvellous time. Well worth the hassles.
Driving home was obviously easier, listening to BBC London and people phoning in their stories of involvement in the days horribleness. Some really touching stories. Must be appalling for those who were involved. A nightmare for the relatives, and those critically injured. Still didn’t seem to be any consensus about the actual death toll. Each life already decided but unaccounted for.