Northern Bavaria

The funny thing about where I spend every summer is that you can have all kinds of weather every day. Today, for example, it was sweltering until about 2pm, when it turned chilly. Each day can bring you sunshine, hail, sleet, rain, sunstroke, famine and drought in equal quantities, a formula which is then repeated practically every day the entire summer. Now, looking out of the window, I can see that it will rain cats and dogs within five minutes. Curioser and curioser. Work starts tomorrow morning, so tonight will be all about getting ready. And having some beer.

Blagnac Airport, Toulouse

So we're off again. I'm starting to feel like a real musician, again: spending more time in airports than at home but it's not the same without Mrs. F and the Fingernails. We'll see each other in England in late July.

Getting through security was typical: only four machines staffed out of a possible eight this morning, resulting in a fifteen-minute wait just to be frisked by a bored minimum-wager. God knows what they do when there's a lot of traffic. The loos are a bit cleaner than they were when I left for Santiago a few weeks ago but you never quite get a away from the feeling that any service provided is done grudgingly at best.

Tonight is the famous, Jack Lang-initiated Fête de la Musique, an impro jamboree to celebrate the first day of summer. Bands set themselves up on street corners, solo artists stand in shop doorways etc etc. Anyone can go into the street and make music. It's a nice idea and there are some good acts, but most is just pure shite. Getting out of the country this morning is like grabbing the landing bars of the last helicopter out of Saigon.

Better sign off before my free wi-fi runs out. More soon from Germanland.

And yet...

...no-one's told me anything about the amazing magnetic properties of 'Last Post'. Maybe it's become a cult page where people claim to have discovered coded messages from John Lennon or some such. Stranger things have happened.

Changing places

In order to maybe sleep better, we've put our bed in the sitting room and the piano and DVD player in what used to be our bedroom. The Fingernails think it's great, apart from the fact they have nowhere to sit when they watch a film. We'll have to remedy that. It's funny seeing our bed basically next to the open kitchen. Beyond it is our Chesterfield sofa, so it almost looks a bit kinky, like having a place for people to sit and watch us in bed. Could be something of a money-spinner, though, a bit like an Annie Sprinkle art installation. We don't actually give a flying one, to be honest; it's as if we lived in a studio flat with a couple of extra rooms and if it helps us escape the noise of Madame Loony Tunes' cocain-ridden felines at 3am upstairs it'll all have been worth it. The next step is moving out and getting somewhere bigger. How many years has it been since I first broached this subject? It's not really a problem, though, seeing as the flat has almost doubled in value in the meantime despite the 2008 crash. It really is all about location, location, location...