The band I’m in is heading out for a spring tour from Edinburgh to Exeter, a dozen dates throughout 4 weekends. Two nights earlier than we set off I depart a rehearsal room at 10pm, exhausted after a seven-hour follow. It happens to me, not for the primary time, that I’m too previous for this shit.
On the morning of the primary gig, my spouse and I’ve a row: she seems to be unaware that I’m taking the automobile for the weekend.
“You mentioned you have been getting a carry,” she says.
“That’s subsequent weekend,” I say.
“You by no means mentioned you have been taking the automobile,” she says.
“I’m sorry, however I’m positive I did,” I say, not solely positive.
“You’re utterly screwing me over,” she says. I feel: man, she actually is offended.
“This can be a real misunderstanding,” I say.
My spouse turns and walks away. I’m already working late, so I simply go.
I get misplaced on arrival, as a result of the venue and the venue’s backstage loading bay are two very completely different addresses, and my satnav has taken me to neither. As a substitute I discover myself in a automobile park behind an public sale home, my path blocked by a big container.
“That doesn’t sound good,” says the drummer after I name him. “How far are you from the excessive road?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s my first time in Bury St Edmunds.”
By the point I get to the venue and unload, the remainder of the band are arrange and able to go. I nonetheless have to search out someplace to park, and my approach again on foot. For multiple motive, I’m starting to want I hadn’t pushed.
Between the sound examine and the gig I name my spouse. She doesn’t decide up. At 7.30pm we take to the stage. Three hours later we’re in a Travelodge room consuming white wine from espresso mugs and critiquing the set, quantity by quantity.
“By my reckoning that riff seems within the music 13 instances,” I say. “Tonight I performed it accurately on 9 events.”
“Not unhealthy,” says the fiddle participant.
“A private finest,” I say.
“There have been a number of first-night errors,” says the piano participant. “The viewers didn’t appear to note.”
“That’s much more worrying,” I say. “They assume it’s purported to sound like that.”
The subsequent day, on the best way to Milton Keynes, I ring my spouse. She doesn’t decide up. I name her once more after I get there – nonetheless no reply.
That evening I make far fewer errors, presumably as a result of I’m so preoccupied by my spouse’s refusal to talk. Holding a grudge isn’t actually her factor (it’s extra mine) and I begin to fear that her silence is a trigger for alarm. Both approach, I’m amazed by its efficacy as a punishment.
The subsequent morning I ring my spouse earlier than leaving for Grantham; once more it goes straight to voicemail. I ship a textual content that claims, “I get that you simply’re not chatting with me,” realising too late that the apparent reply is not any reply.
I can’t discover the loading space of the Grantham venue, and as soon as once more the drummer has to speak me in.
“You made it,” he says after I arrive. “Effectively accomplished.” His drums are already arrange. One thing happens to me.
“The place have been you at lunch?” I say.
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“I drove residence,” he says.
“You probably did?” I say.
“Household stuff,” he says. “Typically we’ve got to make sacrifices.”
“Oh my God,” I say. “Can we?”
I ring my spouse yet another time: nothing. That evening I’m roughly beside myself on stage, and consequently note-perfect.
“It was undoubtedly the most effective present to this point,” says the fiddle participant. We’re all again within the dressing room. The trumpet participant enters, coat on.
“OK, bye,” she says.
“The place are you going?” I say.
“She’s taking, like, a 50-mile cab trip to satisfy her household,” says the piano participant.
“There are some stuff you simply need to do for a cheerful marriage,” she says.
“There are?” I say.
Half an hour later I discover myself in a darkish, pot-holed lorry park off the A1, as alone as I’ve felt in a very long time.
“You could have arrived,” says the satnav.
I drive in circles for 10 minutes, searching for the motel we’re booked into. In the long run I’ve to inch backwards by way of a Burger King drive-thru to get to it.
Within the morning I rise early and drive residence, arriving at 11am.
“So that you’re not chatting with me?” I say to my spouse.
She stares, arms folded. I ask, in a quiet and circumspect approach, if that is presumably about one thing greater than the automobile.
“No,” she says. “That is concerning the fucking automobile.”
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