The India Chronicles Pt 1

I am surrounded by trees adorned with trinkets...bells and necklaces shifting position ever so slightly in the breeze..the heavy toil of incense curling from under pictures of deities and coconut halves, the rub of sari's and lungis passing by. The air is thick, a moist drapery hung like an acrylic of some hidden mans paradise. The sand is cool at night. Inching forwards and backwards as the seas come and go.

Hordes of India wannabees flock the bars and restaurants at night dressed in clothes that look alien on them. Swapping suits and watches for patterned skirts and the token dreadlocks they all seem to suddenly acquire. Attempting to escape whatever nightmares they dreamt at home, and slip on the skin of a new person, new personality, new persona... spiralling downwards in a hangover of drugs and excess... If the path of truth was in excess we would all have died in our twenties.

The old hippies sit quietly in the background, smoking their chillums, sipping their drinks, dressed in normal clothes and talking of their childhoods and imparting tales to anyone who will listen. They sit there, content as such. Laughing at the hippie-sters, groaning while overhearing a woman speaking of the wonderful healing she experienced at some guru up in the mountains obscured from view.... ordering more drinks and not checking the watch at all.

I sit there wrapped in nostalgia. Many of my friends are still here. Many have left. Many have died. The place feels almost the same though it looks very different. It is people that make a place, ultimately. I still like it. I like sitting at Santosh Bar and listening to tales... i drift off in my own thoughts when they start repeating themselves... I like sipping drinks and watching the cows walk past and the Nine Bar Crowd coming down the hill as high as kites... I like eating at Chinatown and talking to the waiters... I like driving down to Vagator beach for a midnight swim.

In all this chaos and conformity there are a few souls worth sharing your time with. There are a few worth sharing a lifetime with.


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Waves curled and spread their white foam onto the glistening sand. We sat, perched atop a restaurant roof, watching the final minutes of sunlight... The mighty fire sinking behind a wall of water... following his silver path.

Einar, Jorgen, Sverre, Simon & Martine all gathered around a table, sitting on cushions, drinking coctails, playing cards, listening to Cluster, smoking cigarettes, resting and reflecting.

Just before we made it to the beach we were all sat on similar seats at the German Bakery playing Texas Hold Em all afternoon, battling it out for a 100 rupee note (which I won) and eating and sipping beers. The days in Goa have been lazy ones... but thats what I needed. To not have any pressing appointments.. but to just plan your day according to your strength or mood.

Its been a wonderful first week. The wedding will be soon, the mountains a little later... the jungle.. a lot of good things to look forward to, but I am only looking as far forward as lunch or dinner here.. because I am enjoying not needing to bother.

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Ragged bodies washed up last night at the German Bakery... with hungry stomachs and weary heads... a day spent playing pool on the beach and sipping cocktails was enough to almost justify bed at 7pm. Instead we sat under an amber lamp on mats on the floor, by a low lying table, ordered food and played some poker.

After Calamari with Garlic Butter Sauce, Chilli Prawns, and various beers were emptied we headed for the familiarity of Primrose to play some pool while listening to Can and Popol Vuh. Instead of heading home at 1am Einar and I decided it better to waltz down to Shapora for one final beverage at Santosh and a couple of omelette sandwiches made so expertly by the fine young men at the side of the road. We chatted for a good hour while watching the lunatics embroiled in their bliss, then headed home up the snaking road for a final chat and bed.

I now sit at Bethany Inn's internet cafe, listening to Blixa Bargeld, writing this. The only plans for tonight are to head to the beach, watch sunset, drive some Go-carts and probably head down to Shapora for a bit of a rave-up since its Simon & Martine and Sverre & Jorgens last night. Einar and I will stay on in this "inemuri" like state and wait on Heidi & Paul and the legendary John Hung from Taiwan... all coming this week!!!!

I think I will go lie down, charge my Ipod, then head down to the beach for a swim and sunset!

Cheers!

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Perched beneath tangled branches and the weakest of lamps we sat and played cards. Rich folds of marble-like ripples ran through the inky sky. A distant incense stick danced wildly. Music flowed and retreated as the wind turned through.

Einar was on the receiving end of a 3 hour massage as the rest of us cuddled around tables and drank beers. We had just been at the Go-Cart track and arrived at the German Bakery sore and elated. After his pleasant ordeal was over we all headed to My Place for a goodbye meal to Simon & Martine and Jorgen & Sverre.

We opened a fantastic bottle of wine and sat eating wonderful food for a few hours....entertained by the owner Amore. With stomachs exceptionally full almost everyone went home, but J&S and I headed down to Shapora for a final couple and talks to Simon and Santosh. Then it was back on the scooters, up the hill, into bed, woken up by the departing Danes, fell asleep again, then up once more to say goodbye to the Norwegians... then down to Chinatown to mull over some food.. and soon down to the Market to see if anything takes my fancy!

Glad to hear Arsenal are on top again! Well done lads!

And suddenly it was dark....

As a final flourish, the leaves surrender their emerald skin and slowly become tangerine orange, firework yellow, blood red.....curling slightly at the edges, before taking to flight on the winter winds and finding respite in the gutters and roofs beneath. The trees, now deprived of their plumage, shrink into the spiny skeleton formations that will be their identity as winds batter, and sometimes snow rests its pure feathers in an icy embrace.

The sky resembles a lost coalmine. Grey caves and black wastelands spread across its canvass. Fallen leaves become the colours of the sun. Trees resemble lampposts. Lanterns put to use after the long summer days. Windows closed and fires burning.

Here is the winter. Long and immovable. Merciless in his domain. The cloak of darkness has been cast, and we are all to suffer beneath his watchful eyes for the coming months. There is no refuge. There is no grace.

I will sit in this window, and watch the winter kill the things I love, and perhaps nurture the things I hate.

The Sequence of Loss ( A Tribute To Wong Kar Wai )

The Sequence of Loss

Prose and photos inspired by Wong Kar Wai films.

Glass is like a ghost. To some people it seems translucent, to others it is merely a mirror. A shadow hides behind, watching the street beneath, waiting. Smoke from a cigarette curls under the cracks and seeps into the drowning rain. She waits by the window. Her hair is made, her dress fitted. Each shadow brings a hope. Each noise startles her. She waits.

The window is a ghost she passes through, and also hides behind.

The bus windows are clotted with the spitting rain. Lights and shapes are changed in the circular mirrors. Tears from the sky slowly dripping down the windows as his heart is itself awake with mourning. He waited for her.

Light floods to the sides of the lantern. It fills the alleyway with sombre tones. The wind removes itself. The trees still. The delicate innocence of love is painted like a drunk moon.

His hand touches the cold iron gate. It opens. The courtyard is flooded with the soft hues of dusk. The tree's bleed, leaves falling gently to cover the roots. The sky is dying, in a torrential pale funeral. He lights a cigarette. The balcony is not empty. She stares from behind a parasol. She turns out the light, and walks softly down the stairs.

The facade lies broken against the weathers of old. The inside smells of the damp intruding mist, books lying opened and curled beside dried tea leaves and the stains of nicotine. The lines on his face tell stories like rings of a tree trunk. He smiles under the overhanging lamp, and lights his tobacco.

The door lies ajar, perfume floods the courtyard, the sound of heels on stairs clicking..clicking..clicking. He lies awake in bed, smoking, she touches her hair, she licks her lips, the door handle turns.

The enchanted, murderous hallways where fallen angels escape the lights of day.

As the trains rattle the windows she lies in bed and dreams of him. The nights have kept his face hidden, he vanishes into the seedy clouds of duty.. she lies and waits..

Tour, Part THE END

Rolling into Brooklyn brought back memories. It filled me with expectation. Warsaw was an incredible venue, full of character and atmosphere. The duties were done, we headed upstairs and ate of the table, then tommy, peter and I walked out to a Polish deli where we managed to secure a bottle of ZUBROWKA.. the best vodka on earth... we ate decent thai food, said hello's to those who came, the show went really well and james iha actually went on stage and made some noise on beehiver II.... we then returned to find the backstage room stripped bare of drinks... moaned loudly... packed the gear.. took it to Death By Audio...went to a local bar with sarah, emil and eivind and sank some pints with a girl from vice magazine and the singer of Enon as bartender... quite surreal.

The three next days passed in inebriation at Motorcity....walking the streets of brooklyn, catching a new pornographers show, getting driven around in a limo with some guys from My Midnight Creeps, Going to a gallery and meeting a phenomenal old artist and being taken around his 4000 sq feet apartment in manhatten, walking around in blistering sunlight, sleeping at marc steiners apartment when too tired/pissed to go home, spending more time at Motorcity, sitting on the rooftop at DBA and looking at the skyline before us.. spending time with Tom and Rohan... eating good food, taking cabs.. spending time with the Pomade people in bars in Bedford ave... listening to dodgy karaoke until our stomachs turned... then heading home.. packing... leaving... catching cabs to the airport... chaos... boarding.. sitting back...drinking.. watching Volver... asleep......asleeeeeep......london next...fucking england.

Tour, Part Seven ( The onward road )

Without patience for pleasantries, I burn on with this recollection of happenings that flittered by without time to even recognise...it seems.

Atlanta was next on the madness map. Friends of Ann allowed us the luxury of showering in their spacious homes sheltered outside by deep red trees shedding their leaves to lighten the load. The club was good. The show was not. The night passed onto another bar where inebriation and much silliness followed.

Chapel Hill greeted me. I went into the dark club and showered. I then walked into town on the eternal hunt for coffee. Second hand shops were found and ransacked. Organic food consumed. Indian food eaten late at night. Show was above par. Back in the bus and onto further and newer heights..... North..

The sun broke my skin as I ran out of the bus to help Darryl find parking. Falls Church was fucking boiling. Eivind and I went into the club to have a peek and found two cold beers chilling in the fridge... enjoyed and refreshed we walked into town with Darryl, payed him his wage, headed to an Irish pub for stew and a cold one, then back for Load-In and the embarrassment that followed with a 800 capacity venue filled by 53 people. The highlight was finding out the lightsguy was a backpacker who had spent years all over asia.. we rambled on with hasty stories as we sucked down beers and tried to sort the finances out way up in the attic. It was then time for festivities. We headed down to the Irish place again, Had a couple. Then watched Eivind go mental at the karaoke place opposite as he grabbed the mic, tried to dance and sing "Like a Virgin" and at one point interrupted a womans performace to blow into a straw. Oh the joys of tour managing...... we got him back onto the bus and left for Philly.

Scott Hatch was in Philly. Tom Roberton was in Philly. This was the first time we had all met up since the days of Hong Kong and beers at Shek-Ol. Unfortunately there was not enough time to really chat but it was fantastic to hang out a bit. The show was good. We wrestled away and headed over to Monks to eat fantastic fries and burgers washed down with La Chouffe..!!!! mmmm......Back to the club late late at night, and into the bus, Tom and his friend Sarah joined us and we pointed the lights towards New York and settled in for some drinks and dvds.

Sometimes I just love touring.

Tour, Part Six ( New Orleans............)

David Eugene Edwards is sitting 20 meters in front of me. Tuning his Banjo. The club is playing insanely bizarre music. There are approximately 20 people here so far. It's looking grim. On the positive side, the backstage room resembles some sort of Beduin tent with ornaments, and oddly enough a buddha statue....

Morning wrestled night to its side, and I awoke. The dew of a new day annointed me, sunlight flooding through the windows of the bus. The streets outside were highlighted in regions the sun shone, and hidden where he daren't. A thick, mystical wind curled around the trees making midday almost seem like some dream-like evocation. Slowly I registered. Six of us made our sleepy way onto sunstoned streets, surrendered to the inside of a cab, and ploughed the new streets of a new city. David was with us, and had been here many times before, therefore becoming the default tourleader for the day.

Truly I cannot describe what I saw today. It is impossible for my humble fingers to bark it out of this computer keyboard and attempt to explain even fragments of the delights we have experienced........beauty....long rows of decrepid buildings standing glorious with the sun flooding their peeling paint.......alleyways hidden by bowing trees silent in prayer......squares where music escaped from jangly guitars and found its haven in our ears.......lingering smells of a southern kitchen spilling through pots and copper pans......madmen laying drunk in their own despair clinging to railings and old newspapers.....shutters wide open allowing the stealing heat to rob houses of comfort......rambling cars in their exhaust clamor deciding paths laid out in white and amber......falling leaves portraying death on the streets of life, with vein and furled edges cautiously begging a final farewell from the nest of their birth.....dark wooden beams holding a bar up above the streets where cold beers were enjoyed with a flooding string of light piercing a badly built frame......fresh catfish grilled and battered in a small local cafe with smiling waiters.......the long steps on steaming tarmac taking its toll on us fair skinned europeans.......deep streets set like a movie set with decadent balconies and the dreams of a better life nestled in their tangled iron.....the blue, blue sky allowing all of us illuminated passage beneath her mighty canvass.......wandering around like children in a fairytale, with mouths open and hearts thankful.....

Day of dreams merging into a night of work, but not before securing a bottle of La Chouffe from a grocery store... sipping back on the waters of the Ardenne region here in the heart of Louisiana, with friends and foes at hand. Then the curricular activities of a show, the carrying, loading, setting up, dossing around in the backstage area, drinking a few mediocre beers, longing for another meal, waiting...waiting...planning the rest of the night post-concert... and just utterly utterly speechless at this city, well, speechless for a man who just wrote 300 words about it in 3 minutes... truly a treat!

Here I end, I would like to say with my pen running dry of ink, but sadly its just the end of my thoughts... they need time to replenish.. and I need silence for that.. something that does not come easy on tour... silence.. the one thing I long for in this storm of sounds and impressions.... silence.. the completion of my sadness.

Tour, Part Five ( Texas and Rednecks )

Texas rolled into view once again. Denton. Rubbergloves. Could hardly find the bastard. Tiny venue by a railroad track. No signs. Nothing. Other than stickers above a door. We headed into town, got a great cup of coffee. Did internet til our heads bled. Found a cafe. Ate breakfast. Drank a cold one. Headed back to the club. The show went pretty well. The night was awesome. Bar kept open. I met a Hebron student. Reminiscing about life and confused about the future. Stayed at the bar late as they did a lock-in. Drank slightly too much. Woke up feeling odd.

Austin. Parked right outside Emo's. Scoured the streets for internet. Stumbled upon a fantastic cigar shop where the couple bitched about bush and we drank coffee and checked mail. Headed to the club. Sound check. Blah Blah. Eivind and I headed out for superb steaks and wine at an insanely good restaurant. The show went really well. Jason Molina opened up and was great. We all had a lock in. Ronson went nuts. Back to the bus for wine and long sleep. Deserved.

Houston. Ugh. Mexican food. Walked in sweltering heat. Club was great. Soundchecked. Sat in the bus for 4 hours watching suspicous car spying on us. Cops came. They left. We stayed away. Club had a curfew and we were forced to leave. Back in the bus and back over to the highways of America....long bumpy, shitty roads that keep you rolling in bed and constantly awake.

Touring, Part 4

The feeling of walking into an oven sums up perfectly what opening the bus door was like in Arizona. I vouched for staying in and watching dvds in the AC instead.

The day was lazy, good chinese food, a bizarre venue/sports bar, great people working the show, late night escapades to someones house somewhere to drink drinks and sit watch the stars while the night just enveloped us and slowly gave birth to morning... car rides back with inebriated people, bus bunks, the slow start of the engine and the prospect of a days ride to Denver.......

Seven in the morning and I was baptised with views that would haunt me the rest of the day.. insane mountains, huge canyons, snow capped mountains, small towns, trailer parks, a huuuuuuuuuge sky, the ongoing battle of colours, the majesty of open spaces.

The bus churned away, we stopped in some bizarre Indian reserve town for weird steaks, the ploughed through unfamiliar territory watching rocks and sand colour the windows for us, we ate ice-cream while outside the sun punished the aware, we snaked through canyons where barely inches seperated us from the walls carved by rivers, we opened up into fields covered in pure snow... barely a footprint to pervert the appeal, then we entered Denver as the night lay thick with its inky cloak.

Parked in some weird supermarket area. Got stuck in a strange bar with weird food. Slept a restless sleep with nightmares plaguing everything, woke up to a clear morning, headed over to the venue, did what we always do, then David, his son and wife took us all out for a spectacular meal nearby... it was so cosy, before we hurtled back to the club, played, packed, loaded, drank, and went to our bunks to sleep off the memories of another day.

Today we ended up in Lawrence, Kansas. I am sitting by the merchandise table, Serena are just about to play Sapphire Eyes, the turnout is ok, the day has been great, some friends drove all the way from Minneapolis to see us and its been great spending some few precious moments with them, we are about to finish up, pack, and head over to the bus and wake up in Denton Texas... until next time.....

Touring, Part 3

I woke up, parked outside the venue in Portland. David, Darryl and I went for great coffee at Portlands answer to Cafe Roma, sat around and chatted and enjoyed the feel of a relatively early morning. The rest of the crew were up around 1. I called Peter and he recommended some stores and areas to visit, we walked, slowly, down long streets covered in bowing trees, some leaves bleeding to the floor, others trapped in the web of branches. Through bookstores, clothes stores, cafes, record stores, meeting friends heading out for another coffee at the same place we started the morning at, another music store, then the venue, load in, soundcheck, off to eat the smallest steak in the world, met Fathead and some of the Dandy Warhols crew who we hadn't seen in ages, then off to Voodoo donuts for a bizarre concotion that left me bemused.... I threw one away and devoured the other.

The show went relatively well. Followed by a few hasty hello's and goodbye's before the bus engine started and once again we were on the road.... off to another city, off to meet new friends and re-engage with old acquaintances... this time one of my all time favourites.. San Francisco..... Straight away heading for Cafe Roma, the old haunt... sipping the most divine coffee imaginable, before walking into the maze and strange/familiar smells of Chinatown...roast ducks hanging in windows, glazed pork, childrens toys in bright colours, postcards and t-shirts, dried shrimp and boxes of tea...For a second I thought I was back in Hong Kong and became incredibly nostalgic, but I shook it off for the best of the others... We visited Sam Wo's as usual and feasted on soups, veggies, noodles and all sorts of delights... Then it was time to catch a cab and head into the desolate factory district of San Francisco where Bottom Of The Hill lay tucked between houses and a strange empty lot.

The show was amazing, the crowd were great as were the people working there like last time. I actually managed to run into Tim for a few precious minutes and we drank some beers and laughed about India.

Pomona woke me up like a strange soap-opera set. Houses lined up and decrepid, yet strangely eerie and empty. Not a soul on the streets, almost all the stores closed and nothing to do except eat horrendous food and wait for the show.

Show went by mostly randomly and normally. Packed up. Headed to Hollywood to park outside the Orlando Hotel. Then onto sunbaked streets and the colours and contrasts of Melrose......walking...looking....tasting...bargaining....met Herb again which was amazing....headed to the Troubadour and thus followed a rather bizarre night of soundcheck, sour fucks working there, heading off in cars to a bbq hosted in a garden where some of the Jonestown and Warlocks were hanging out, got some free drinks and awful crayfish, then headed back, played the show, packed up, cabs again over to the Brian Jonestown show which we only caught the last song of, then to In & Out for late night burgers, then said goodbyes to all our LA friends and turned the bus towards Arizona.

Touring, Part 2

Our driver, an ex navy seal, drove 27 hours STRAIGHT... through snow storms and gales, stopping only 3 times for a cup of coffee or food. Thus we arrived in Seattle in the early hours, parked up outside Neumo's, slept in a little, then headed out on duty to explore the city once again.

But, before I start on Seattle I must point out that the drive day was phenomenal. Montana is an incredibly beautiful state and we spent the whole day staring out of the window, drinking red wine, and as night covered sight we retreated inwards and watched Dvds. Cosy. Back to Seattle.....

Ended up at the Athenum Bar, overlooking the sea and eating choice fish soup washed down with frosted mugs full of beer surrounded by old sailor types... fantastic. We were given free tickets by Neumos to go see the Suicide Girls but none of us could really be arsed so we decided instead to eat some Thai food, and settle in for some quiet pints on a slow barhop. Sarah joined us, so it turned out to be a jovial evening...

Today was spent sorting crap out with the logistics of tour, hearing INSANE stories about what some of the Serena cats had been upto last night with some girls, one of who was called Bliss... go figure.

Touring, Part 1

Tour, Part One

Spent a dismissive amount of time on the train from Derby surrounded by idiot 17 year old girls discussing shoes and boys. Switched on my laptop and watched the film DOLLS by Kitano, absolutely mindnumbingly beautiful. Was transported.

Got to London, Sarah had created a magnificent roast dinner so I sat back, drank, ate and watched Sympathy for Lady Vengeance as the time ticked. Got an hours sleep, headed to heathrow on the shitty Picadilly Line, Checked in, sat back, slept most of the flight, sat and waited in JFK for 3 hours for the lads while watching Ali-G much to the amusement of some Americans.

Jumped in an illegal cab, hurtled to stephs place, spent the next 4 days organising backline, visiting Gibson, saying hi to Sufjan in his rehearsal place, nights at the Motorcity bar with jennifer, days spent eating and sleeping, a couple of very late nights, then the gig at the Bowery, great atmosphere, special guests, late night drinking that lasted until 8am and left me with a caning morning rush, then down to the Bowery again to wait on the bus that never came, waited, from 11am till 7.45pm, rushed like a beast unleashed to Boston, made it at 11.43, loaded in, played, packed up, were out the door by 12.45, headed out with friends and ate, then back in the bus to drive to montreal. Customs was great, headed up and spent the night in montreal, what a grand city!

Next day was anarchy and hectic, just sorting out odds and ends and rushing for some great Indian food before playing a decent show, packing and heading West to Toronto.

Woke up to rain, found parking, had an incredible day in wonderful Toronto, bought a sweet ass jacket for 15 canadian, met up with Rik and Aleke which was magical after so long, such special wonderful people, the show at Lees Palace was astounding, full house and incredible response.. spent the evening running around to parties that never were and ended up at "the Tap" for a couple before bus.

Down to the city of dereliction, Detroit. Ugh. Found parking outside the venue, also found out there was free bowling, played a decent show for a small crowd, then headed south to Chicago.

Spent the day at Clark & Belmont, sorting out tons of logistics with our tourbus company, nightmare, then headed back to the bottle for a grand night of show, and also reunion with Paroma from my school in India. Was fantastic to meet her and her husband Raj who were so sweet and made everyones night so much better!

Then, slightly trolleyed, we caught the bus and headed towarts Minneapolis.... which is where I am right now....sitting in the venue listening to Tommy soundchecking the drums... entirely boring....

But such is life. Tomorrow, 2 drive days off on the way to SEATTLE!!!!!!

Cannot wait!

Back to the UK

as soon as the door opened of the airplane I could smell the carpet in the airport. stinking. manchester. god of the chavs. what a nightmare to come back from a clean organised Scandinavia to a broken, frayed, crumbling britain. I was immediately overcome with depression and the feeling that I was completely alienated from this nation that once held so much in my heart.

the weekend before was fantastic. the journey to Bergen, the beautiful road, the ferry rides, meeting nick small as he shot the video for "sapphire eyes" at the Hulen club, night out in Askoy sitting on rocks with einar sipping beer and chatting, then down to stavanger, meeting rob and dave again, playing good shows, being treated well, staying in nice hotels, waking up to make waffles for everyone and sit outside drinking fresh coffee and enjoying the sunshine, then back up to Bergen for a show at Kvarteret which went really well, eating grand vietnamese food and staying backstage all night talking and taping things up..

Then back to the hotel, carried on a little afterparty there, got up early, said goodbyes and caught the airport bus....

sat on the plane drinking white wine and watching "stranger than paradise".. the flight was over before I knew it.. and this brings me back to the stained and smelly carpet.

Got home to find a mix up with a key, had to sleep at paul das house one night and finally got in the next day... rest... silence... quiet... bought some dvds and just settled in for some days to enjoy being alone after a summer surrounded by people!

One week in Oslo

Spent a week staying at Emil's apartment in the heart of Oslo. The day after the long van ride from Arhus was just a chance to catch our breath and head out on the town for a meal and some drinks.

The rest of the week passed with staying up late sipping Caol Ila with Emil, heading to the Vietnamese restaurant that was decorated like some homo-erotic greek grotto....rather bizarre but the food was great, we spent a few nights at MONO sampling overpriced beer (but with discounts whenever Eivind was there), had a wonderful day when I escorted Emil to an interview with VG and got them to pay 18 pounds for a fucking tiny chorizo and half a potato, then went with him to a TV interview before walking over to Bla venue in the baking sunshine to take care of proceedings with a relaxed attitude as Serena delivered another great show and we all sank beers and laughed backstage, spent an afternoon at Pilot Management getting all the paperwork in order and then sat with Vegard and Kjetil on the sunkissed balcony and drank, attended a picnic thrown for us by Hilma and her sister in the park by their house which was cosy, got a phone call from Eiving telling us there was an industry party with a password that you could use to blag your way in, got in and sat there with free bar until 3 am. It was fantastic... managed to smuggle about 4 other friends in too and had a right rave up, went to the Nikki Sudden memorial concert where Dave Kusworth actually sang along with various Norwegian bands including Ivar and Hilma belting out the words of "God Save Us", stayed out until 5 attending to a drunk girl and chatting with an friend, was invited to Eivinds house for his famous cooking which did not disappoint and then headed out for mischief, visted Emil at the studios where he was mixing the new Maria Solheim record, walked alot, then managed to secure a flight back for the price of a bus ticket and ended the week with a trip to the airport, got fucked over the tickets, managed to somewhat get a refund, sat in the sun sinking a beer before the flight, jumped the line and got to check in straight away instead of waiting 1 hour like everyone else, ate overpriced food, boarded, sat back and within 55 minutes Copenhagen appeared like so many times before and Jan and I were back again. Home for him, I don't know what for me...............