Untitled Document

Mark's Blog - Archive 2007

Who's he calling me him? (Norman Beaker)
Christmas 2007

I hope you will forgive the premature Christmas and new year blog, but we have a frantic run in leading up into the new year, so I thought I would pen this one early while I make the most of what little free time I have left.
There are a couple of things of importance to share with you all, firstly, I do hope you enjoy the new "Bring it on home" DVD and CD. Oh! and that reminds me of the time a couple of years back when my mother went into HMV record store in the high st and asked the spotty young sales assistant if they had any NBZ VD here, I said its a DVD mum not a VD, but I guess it would be an easy slip of the tongue for an elderly mum to make... anyway, its sorted now and hopefully the benign wrong use of the lettering will not happen again in the future.

Moving on, we now have a Frenchman playing bass guitar in the band, and id like you to welcome into the fold Monsieur Gerry Le McAvoy, I say this as our dear Gerry has actually left Great Britain for a new home in the Loire Valley and the town of Tours (Close to anyway) and of course with this shift in location goes all the logistical nightmares that go hand in hand with such a move. If our travel schedule in the UK is sometimes hectic imagine now how Gerry feels when he is having to get up many hours before us just to get here before long long journeys up the M1 and M6 in the same day. The move actually happened months ago now and although tough for him, he is coping admirably.

Just to return briefly to the new DVD, I must take my hat off to Dennis Brendan and our mentor Tony Wheatley for countless long journeys up to Wigan and back to do the visual edits. I must admit when it was on the cutting room floor I completely lost interest in the project and could not possibly see how it was rescueable as it looked a mess. The sound was very good from the start, but it took many months of painstaking work for you to enjoy what you now see. We will of course put together next year some acoustic shows to coincide with the general release, so keep looking at the dates board for updates.

I must mention our dear friend Mr Tony Wheatley for guiding us in our careers, as he is a great inspiration and a wonderful man too. Thank you Tony.

Brendan and I continue to disagree on just about everything, Dennis moans about the fact that although we have been working together for 30 years he hardly knows me, and tells audiences across the country how difficult I am, when in fact he frustrates me, as he has bundles of talent, but in my humble opinion, cant do small detail and I sometimes feel like his chaperone. He is a wally of the highest order. Gerry continues to text me from France the last clue in his crossword puzzle he cant finish, after a swim in his indoor swimming pool... well, he tells me its a swimming pool... I’m going to go out there next year and do a bit of carp fishing so I will let you know what the new home is like.

My telephone sadly doesn't ring anymore from the likes of Oasis, Robbie Williams and Will Young. I have gone from doing many tv film and record sessions to a very barren time on the session scene generally. Whether harmonica parts are now being easily sampled and used instead of the real player or just the fact that nobody uses the instrument in mainstream pop/rock, or indeed takes it seriously anymore I cant say, but it is a pity nevertheless, or I wonder if nobody wants to work with me because of Dennis’s "Watch out Feltham’s about" taunts on-stage. One day the four of us will go out and have a pint socially folks, because you know what, we almost never socialise, but I guess that we are almost in a marriage and you can read on the faces of the guys at the end of a string of dates that simply says, "thank god I don’t have to look at you for another 5 days" look.

Well, I guess I'm going to close down now and get a train up to my beloved birthplace, London town and browse the avenues and alleyways and bohemian buzz that makes this the great capital it is. In fact I have just moved into a new flat, South west facing with a balcony, ohoo!, get you again, and it is just 12 minutes into Victoria on the fast train, perfect.
All this just leaves me to thank you all for your continued support, and to thank dear Mick Abraham's for the blue suede shoes at a gig where I had left my stage clothes indoors, Mick Lister for being well, a really nice man, Norma and Rob at our NBZ office in North Devon UK, for their tireless work in keeping you happy with your merchandise goodies for Christmas, Tony and Kim at lovely couple dot com, Brendan and Maggie for erm?... Dennis Greaves and his lovely wife Helen who still suffers daily from living under the same roof as him. Gerry and the equally lovely Regine Roset for Spanish, Japanese, Italian, Russian translations throughout the year, our agents around Europe, Paul Forrester our web master, and my real reason for my ongoing existence, my son Louis and my daughter Olivia and of course Charlotte.

I wish you all in advance a peaceful and happy Christmas and new year,

God bless, Mark Feltham.

Fatigue?...Its all in your head man. A day in a life.
October 2007

Hello Folks, Firstly, im sorry for taking longer than usual to keep you informed, but we decided to use the Early part of September to get away for our break/family holidays etc. I ended up,lat minute jumping on a plane and heading down to Northern Sardinia for five days and ended up wishing i had not bothered as i must have been the only person in the hotel. Im not too good at holidays, so your comments are welcome. Must try a SAGA holiday next year. Dennis and his clan flew out to the eastern America seaboard, North Carolina, i think? and Brendan crammed every destination on the globe imaginable into his three weeks with his family.
The Mr Greaves birthday celebrations at the Crooked Billet went wildly into the early hours back in July, and come September we were all desperately in need of a rest. I say this without hesitation as what we endured this weekend was human endurance pushed to its absolute limits.

We headed out to Norway on Thursday to Trondheim Airport (560 km north west of Oslo) to be met at the Airport by our hosts at around 11pm, and after a few drinks in the hotel bar headed up to our rooms around 1am.
Our destination was to be Orland, some two and a half hour drive plus a ferry boat trip away, so we duly left at 8am to do make sure that we made the 30 minute ferry crossing in time to be at the hotel at lunchtime.
The problem that lurked ahead of us was that we had a show in the south of France the next evening and we were now up in the Arctic circle.
The logistical nightmare that unfolded was as follows, Onstage at 10pm in Orland, Norway. offstage at 11.45pm, a quick shower in the hotel and checkout at 1.45am, no sleep. Back on the Ferry boat at 2.30am, then a drive back to Trondheim of two and a half hours to Tronheim airport. Tronheim airport to Oslo airport for the first flight of the day at 6am, no sleep, cramped car. Oslo airport with a quick 50 mins turnaround for the Oslo-Heathrow flight, arriving at 9.45 am at Heathrow. It would have been that much easier if our next connection to the South of France had been from Heathrow, but of course it wasn't, and by this time we all had developed a distinctive grey/white pallor due to the Whitey (overnight, no sleep). No no, our next flight at 1.20pm was from Gatwick,...So we bundled into a Taxi and headed off to Gatwick. We then took the flight down to Toulouse, arriving at 4.20pm local time, to then be met by our French promoter who told us Mont de Marsan was two and a half hours away by road.
We eventually arrived in Mont de marsan at around 7.30pm saturday evening having not slept since thursday evening in desperate need of a sleep, but not alas, until after the show, that by this time had been pushed back to let the french public at the venue see france take on New Zealand.
We made stage at 11.15pm, 21 hours after leaving Norway in the Frosty darkness, still minus sleep. If all this wasn't uncomfortable enough, we had to be up at 6.30 am for the journey back to Toulouse airport in the morning.
This was a bastard beyond belief, but one where yet again we met some wonderful people who were genuinely happy to see us play, and that in itself motivates us to go to these crazy logistical lengths to get to remote areas to tread the boards and do what we do.

It is with sadness that news has reached us of the premature death of Gary Primmich, one of the worlds greatest blues harmonica players from Austin, Texas, at the age of 49. We send out our thoughts to his family and friends.

I hope you enjoyed reliving with me a glimpse into what is not always as it may seem on the surface into the trials and tribulations of a working musicians travels and life.

Speak soon, Mark.

Ciao,.......Scunthorpe!!
June 2007

No disrespect of course to our dear Englishmen up there in North Lincolnshire but i thought this new blog title just illustrates how diverse the places and folk are who live work and play in these areas/countries and just how lucky we are to witness this.
Without further ado i will move on as i have much to share with you today, June 21, in Central london at around 09.54am.
I have been granted permission to tell you that it is our Dennis` birthday on 23rd July, and that it is not any old birthday but a "Special" birthday,..Whoooooooo!!, i hear you say, ..Yes its Mr Coathangers 60th,...no no im only kidding, its his 50th, and to mark this special occasion we will be playing a lovely informal acoustic show on the very night at the famous Crooked Billet in Stoke Row, Henley on Thames. Den and i will also showcase a couple of songs from Gary Fletchers new record that we both contributed to,with Gary himself on the night. I have no idea how the evening will fall into place as it really is a celebration of a man reaching a milestone in his career and indeed life.
Mr Dennis Greaves and myself have been through much in our musical careers with both massive highs and terrible lows. We met quite by chance in 1977 when a friend i had been rehearsing with told Dennis that if he needed a harmonica player then to try me out. I duly received a phone call from this cocky so and so, not realising he lived just a couple of doors away. He was very much "in your face" and had the arrogance to dip his bread in my fathers soup on meeting my folks for first time.
This potentially could have been a disastrous first meet, but in fact, it broke the ice, and "Stans blues band was established in mid-1977.
Dennis` father, also named Dennis was very instrumental in pushing and encouraging the young musician to find gigs, and would often come home tired after work, throw the equipment into his black London taxi and head off to the evening pub gigs in London. I can remember them being very close,..yet rarely does Dennis mention the cruel loss that he suffered on the afternoon of 26th June 1979.
I happened to be sitting with Dennis and Norma (Dens Mum) that day in the family home when his dad unusually didn't come home or ring in and say he was to be late.
Dennis Greaves senior had in fact suffered an Anneurism, or brain clot, to which he never survived, and of course Dennis junior was still a very young man and very close to Dad.
The reason i mention all this is that we had just been given our first ever big break and been booked to play the very prestigious Dingwalls club in London 2 days later, and Dennis insisted we play Dingwalls in honour and respect for his dad. We did just that, and that night on-stage still haunts me, let alone how Dennis must have been feeling.
So, Mr Greaves now is approaching his landmark after privately confessing to me that he had a secret fear that he wouldnt make his dads age. All this is behind us now and i am absolutely certain that Dad Snr, is very proud of his Boy, as indeed Dennis is of his Two young sons Jake and Sonny (both drummers).

Dennis and I led separate career paths after we parted in 1982,...Den went on to form "The truth" and i drifted off into session work. We kept in touch, and i guested on a couple of the truth records in the mid eighties. The Gig we did at a Computer function in 1977 as Stans blues band seems an eternity ago now, yet as we played St Gallen In Switzerland on tuesday night I caught just for just a brief moment, in his eye, in front of 3000 people, that young rage and intensity that makes him the great front man and Musician that was there from the early days of playing seedy beer soaked pubs, to now, the International stage.

I know that Dennis is in fact, despite his ferocity outwardly a very modest man, possibly lacking belief in his own ability and talent and would urge all of our friends who cannot get down on his birthday bash on the 23rd July to wish him a very happy birthday . Happy 50th Den, from Feltip Marker.

Ok, back to business, and we have had a gruelling six days away this time around. My faithful old alarm clock screamed out to,... "get out of bed M" at 4 am on thursday last week for our Milan/Bergamo, Stansted flight, and the resultant pick up from the airport from our dear Italian friend "Czech" and our hotel for a quick nap before Dinned Al fresco in a wonderful hilltop Restaurant in the town of Chiuduno in Lombardy, Northern Italy. Great show, great people and family buzz (Typically Italian). Our beds were a source of calm after a hectic 20 hour day.
Friday morning, and we were back at the airport and the return flight to London and considerable high clear air turbulence, that i promised would never get me on a plane again. I hate turbulence, even now after close to 2,800 flights over thirty years.
From the Airport we had a 200 mile journey up to the Scunthorpe area and the Burton on the Stather festival in North Lincolnshire . The journey took us close to seven hours to complete due to the UK being gridlocked because of heavy rain and accidents on the closed sections of motorway.
After the fledgling festival, we got back into the cars and headed back down to London and reached the hotel around 3.30 am for a morning call at 9am to go back yet again to Stansted airport for our flight out to Frankfurt.
We picked up a "flying machine" of a vehicle at Frankfurt and headed out onto the magnificent German Autobahn motorway system and north west for the 330 km drive into Belgium and Charleroi.
We opened the show for Slade, who bashed out hit after hit all night long and the 2000 strong crowd went wild after an "Interesting double bill", it was an unnerving experience, as the dressing rooms and dining rooms were in a very old Psychiatric hospital and i personally felt ill at ease in there, especially as it was still in operation,...but thats just me feeling odd and precious i guess?
We headed back after the show to the hotel at around 11pm but had to be up extra early for the 11am (morning show) 300 km away in Saarbruecken. we had alarm calls at 5 am.

The Saarbreucken show was a real ball and felt really odd at 11 in the morning to be playing in front of what by now had swelled to around 2000 people. We played for around 2 hours and 10 mins and chatted with many French and German families after the show. Fantastic.

That afternoon i lost my keys, Block key, front door key, Garage key, Car key, car alarm key.
Dont even go there, suffice to say that hastily made phone calls were made and it seemed at one point that the whole of western Germany were looking for Felthams keys.
I also designed an Ingenious washing line, whereby i hung an ironing board out of the hotel fourth floor window, wedged internally by the tv and hung shirts out to dry, only to realise at dinner that night that it was pouring of rain.
The next day was a day off, Oh for a day off !, and we headed down to Lorrach, as we remembered a nice hotel and Steak house there. The big mistake i made was to get a haircut there (Whats left of it).
I walked into a unisex barbers, told to sit down, and a handsome tall German man in his mid twenties, id say? Lurched over me and started to flex his hands between Edward Scissorhands-like fingers. All was well until his short sleeve tee-shirt revealed what seemed to me to be the whole of the Bavarian black forest underneath his armpit. He absolutely stank of BO, and every time he worked on the front of my head, his underarm ended up under my nostril. I couldn't move, and was trapped.
In the end i couldn't care less about the bloody haircut,..my need was for oxygen. HORRIBLE! Worse than clear air TURBULENCE.

A long long drive on tuesday placed us in St Gallen. Switzerland, where we played to a huge crowd of 3000 plus people and we had a fantastic show even though the technical backup was a little on the short side on stage.

We drove back the 500 km to Frankfurt and the flight back last night to London.

Now i have the unenviable job of cycling to the airport as my Car and Garage are keyless.

Regards, Feltip, Marker.

FOG BLOG
April 20, 2007.

Hello friends, what a couple of days we have had. We kicked off suitably refreshed from a break of ten or so days to play the wonderful Plinston Hall in Letchworth.

My day began well enough on Saturday the 21st, but arriving at London Bridge station (I am a huge fan of public transport) was told that my connecting train North to Bedford had been cancelled; in fact the whole line was down for the day with signalling problems.
My next problem of course, was that I didn’t have a clue where Letchworth was geographically, as I was originally going to be picked up by Gerry at St Albans and we were both going to look at the map and drive there. I didn’t even know if there was a station at Letchworth?

Letchworth is a town I had heard of on the radio etc, but never actually been to, and was a mystery with regard to its whereabouts. I asked the ticket office did any trains from London Bridge go to Letchworth... "Lectchworth Garden city sir"? ..."I don’t know" I said, "Is there two Letchworths"? ."Its only showing one on here Sir", "Ok, I will take a ticket, thank you", "Where is it”? I said, he looked at me as if I was mad. I had certainly become "unhinged" shall we say, as I had a big show to do but didn't know where the bloody hell the location was, and all this, with a pumping late afternoon migraine too.

I eventually arrived at Letchworth, via Kings Cross, AND, I couldn't even sit down either as the train was packed. By this time I actually wondered if was possible to unscrew the head and replace it with a new one, such was my distress with the pumping through the temples etc.

I arrived with time to spare, whacked a couple of Paracetamol down the hatch, and the migraine subsided.

Our show in Letchworth was fantastic, and we left very happy, then motored off into the night for our morning journey to Gatwick Airport, and the destination to the Isle of Man, and the capital, Douglas.

We had certainly not been here before, even on holiday as kids. We were met by a charming husband and wife team who ran a private hire Limousine company, and took us to our hotel from Douglas airport.

The concert itself was in a complex called the Villa Marina, and was on the promenade at the sea front.
The show itself was hard work acoustically, as some of these rooms were never built for live electric music, and this one was no exception.
All said and done, the concert went very well and we were ferried back to the hotel in the two Mercedes, as it was raining, by this stage.

We shared the hotel with a local Wedding reception, and I saw young women downing pints of Magners Cider with the Men, and then staggering in and out of the lifts to reach the rooms upstairs.
My diet of Water this weekend was enabling me to get a different slant on life, as I watched men and women slobbering over each other for a goodnight kiss. Yuk! Horrible.

The return home saw us meeting in the hotel lobby at around Midday the next day, and I remember Gerry saying Jokingly, that the flight had been cancelled due to the heavy fog that now draped over us. He was joking at the time, but as the airport loomed in front of us there was no movement of aircraft on the Runway... in fact, I couldn't even see a runway.

Our flight time came...and went, the new delayed time, came...and went. The aircraft was actually circling overhead but could not land due to intense fog.

London was 350 nautical miles away and was basking in glorious warmth, and we were severely fed up and agitated as it was our down time and we looked like spending it back at the same hotel for another night in the eerie sea side fog.

That folks, is exactly what happened, and to add insult to injury, we tried again today, Monday, at 5am, but the fog had not lifted, and we sat and sat in the same airport lounge to be told yet again that a there was a delay to our flight.

Our flight was at 6,50am, and we eventually got into the air at 11am, as there was a half hour gap in the weather.

So Folks, that concludes yet another adventure and its 1600pm and I'm home now, albeit tired, and ready to go horizontal for a short sleep folks, with your permission of course,

God bless, Biggles.

Swizterland, the Chameleon of modern day Europe.
Late March 2007

Hello Friends, Confusion ruled as we arrived in Basel for the first of three dates in Switzerland and one in Germany.

We arrived at the terrifyingly confusing Basel airport. The Swiss refer to it as a "EURO airport" and all becomes apparent when after clearing baggage reclaim you are then offered the choice of French customs and a sign stating "France, this way? Or Swiss customs, and "Switzerland this way”. Swiss French, Swiss Germans, Italian Swiss... and so it goes on, I think the website CONFUSED.com would have come in handy as we searched for the Avis car rental desk at the airport.

Thirty minutes later and we were off in a brand new Renault Espace people carrier and on the road to the first show in Solothurn and the Altes Spital club. I think the Altes Spital word is Swiss German or German for Hospital?

Pls correct me if I am wrong folks... Anyway the gig was indeed and old converted hospital, and the concert room resembled the old Morgue or Operating theatre, I can distinctly remember wondering "How many legs and arms have been amputated in here"?
We were warmly welcomed by our hosts and it felt good to be back in CH again... Oh by the way, the town itself we were told, is famous, not for works of art, or its musical heritage, but by the number 11? I am not entirely clear on this but it seems it has 11 of everything? Pls let me know out there in Swiss land please.

The following day, Thursday, and we were heading south to the Swiss Italian area and the town of Ascona on lake Maggiore, around 5kms from the Italian border, the drive was spectacular in places and as we headed out of the snow and fog of Solothurn and headed south, the weather also chose to become more southerly too, bathing the mountain passes with brilliant sunshine too. My reference to the great Chameleon may now be starting to make some sense as this is truly a country of many countries with its many different cultures and indeed colours. I was wrapped up in kind of "mountain attire" for the slopes as we left Solothurn, and within an hour on the road I was roasting in the Renault. Mother nature still reigns it seems?

We arrived about four hours later at the Ascona beach lounge venue in marvellously chic Ascona. It was the Venues third anniversary and all the towns beautiful people turned out to be there. The stage area was terribly small and the PA system underpowered but we coped and got through, albeit strained, as the cigarette smoke hung around the venue and made life a little hard at times. Wine flowed and the party continued long after our return to the ultra swish Park Hotel Delta, not bad at £600 a night??? The bathroom had more gadgets in it than you could ever wish for and the view towards the mountains was truly memorable too.

Just before we left the club, I got speaking to a knowledgeable journalist who was Swiss Italian, born in Switzerland, but wanted to be known as Italian, as indeed all the Swiss Italians I spoke to agreed to that observation... In fact, it was Italy in its soul, yet geographically still Switzerland, odd I thought?

The Chameleon came into play again on the return to Biel, in the north of the country on the following day, for as we entered one of the Magnificent alpine road tunnels in snow one end, we came out the other end in glorious sunshine.

The blue note club in Biel was a lovely intimate little venue and on the Swiss German/ French Swiss imaginary border... Confused yet? I am just writing, anyway, Gerry’s hired Bass amplifier was little bigger than a box of Persil, yet a great crowd turned out to see us. Dennis said to me after the sound check that "this town is dead" and feared a low turn out, yet he was way off of the mark and we had a great evening, even though we had completely mistakenly booked into the wrong hotel, (More confusion)

We headed out of Switzerland yesterday to the "Predictability" of Germany and the Cafe Haan in Koblenz, a five hour drive through snow, sun, heat and cold and met up with some English people who had managed to get flights at 99pence with Ryan air to Frankfurt, we thank you for supporting us.

Dens amp broke down, my system was on strike, Brendan’s drums sprouted legs and started wandering around while playing but despite this we had a great time and headed back today, less one hours sleep due to clocks changing, getting lost back at Basel Airport... "Its the German Swiss side, you wally", "No its not, we need the French Swiss side". We didn’t have a clue, and circled Basel this Morning like headless Chickens until finally falling asleep exhausted on the plane home.

Right, a cup of tea now and a slice of Swiss roll... German, Italian or French??

Doctor doctor, give me the news, we have a bad case of gastro blues!!!
Late Feb 2007

Dennis had been ill since returning from Denmark last week, indeed the whole Greaves family had been cut down, but like the soldier he is, he said farewell to his family this Friday when I picked him up in a taxi en- route at 5am to London Stansted airport.

"I feel much better," he said... "Good" I returned.

We headed out on Friday morning to Oslo with Norwegian airlines and had a lifetime of wait (four hours) for our connecting flight up to the Arctic wastes of Northern Norway.

Dennis had come over bad again at Oslo airport, and the vicious bug he had been carrying was not going to let him loose just yet... in fact it was going to leave him exhausted by Sunday evening. He was very pale, completely uncommunicative, and constantly in spasm-like pain in between running to the toilet. I have worked with Dennis for over a quarter of a century now, and although many things, he never complains of his aches and pains, and gets on with it.

Brendan on the other hand looked completely handsome, healthy and... "On Something"??? I am sure he is using "products" shall we say??... He flatly denied enhancement using cosmetics, but whatever he is using, or not, I want to be in with the secret of eternal youth.

Our second flight of the day took us up to Bodo, a small town 1600 km north of Snowbound Oslo airport by now, and although completely immersed in a blanket of snow, was completely functional with snow ploughs rushing ahead of departing aircraft like tiny minders clearing the way for take off.

Dennis sat behind me and was clearly suffering, and his constant groans and concealed belching, added to our concerns.

We arrived in Bodo, 11 hours after leaving London with barely time for a shower before show time, It was NINE BELOW ZERO with a wind-chill factor of minus 17 degrees... in other words, bloody cold for sure.

Dennis got through the show... somehow? And went straight to bed, as we all did.

Now if this schedule was not gruelling enough, we had barely four hours sleep for the ridiculously early 6am alarm call and the return flight to Oslo.

We had another eternity and wait, then delay, at Oslo airport for our fourth flight to Bergen, Dennis was worsening, so decided to go horizontal in the airport lounge and use my harmonica case as a pillow to try regain some strength in his depleted energy reserves.

We reached Bergen with desperate need of an afternoon sleep, and did exactly that. I told Dennis to stay in bed and skip sound check.

To add to his misery, Norwegian Airlines had lost his bag and clothes, guitar pedals, strings, merchandise etc, and it still had not turned up, even as I speak in London now.

The Stage in Bergen was very small and a nine inch by nine column stood directly in front of Dennis` vocal mic. A young woman approached me after the show and said "hey, your guitarist is so cool, holding his guitar AND the reaching out and touching the 9x9 column at the same time, Super cool man" I, of course new that the said column was in fact keeping Dennis upright, as he was in such a mess, and could barely stand.

We flew home last night and with alarming regularity, Dear Gerry polished off the MASSIVE cryptic Daily mail crossword in the 1 hour 40 flight time (as one does) ?? And the semi upright Dennis was delivered home to his sick bed and waiting family, Brendan still continues to deny his visits to TANFASTIC in the Romford road, and wake up to a council tax summons, as I was 2 weeks late paying, Marvellous.

Just a note of thanks to our dear fiends in Norway and the very reasonable price of fish and chips at £30 a go.

God bless, Felttip Marker.

Den & Mark in Denmark.
February 2007

Gerry and Brendan too of course, but I thought I would play around again with this fantastic language of ours and find a hook to the title of this new travel diary.

I do apologise for, kind of, "petering out" as it were, on the back end of the last blog when we got to Sweden, but I genuinely had run out of steam and got bored.

Greavesy said to me, "what a terrible blog" there was much to talk about in Sweden, this, coming from a man who sends one word replies to my book like sms to him. I quickly returned fire with a winner, "Then you do the bloody blog then"... Silence, how predictable Dennis, its the only time that I have never heard him voice an opinion. I am ashamed to say I'm like his housemaid, arranging train times etc, he genuinely finds all the things I love doing very boring and he can be a very difficult, stubborn old sod, and we are very much the two members of the band who argue like old women.

Gerry Barker, its a new nickname for Macca or McAvoy, is a different man entirely to Dennis. The new nickname I christened comes from the fact that he barks when he is in a mood (often), but at least we do crosswords together and he will frequently phone me with a "Estuary bird Mark, six letters" and I will genuinely get a great buzz from solving silly non important things, the band call me the king of useless information, or the doctor, as I love all things medical too. Gerry on the other hand has a fierce intellect folks and could have done very well as say a lawyer or barrister I feel?

Moving on to the Drummer, our Dear Brendan, he is the quiet one of the band, yet bloody stubborn, opinionated, and seems to attract all the female attention, I keep urging him to cut off some of his hair so I can make up a wig for myself... I am still waiting. He runs an idyllic family unit, and is a wonderful family man, doting on his dear wife Maggie, and daughters, Jenny and Catherine. Brendan and I are very close, yet can't agree on anything.

I just wanted to just give you a small glimpse into our lives.

Now, moving on, Denmark had to be tackled this weekend, when we kicked off, (Tackled, Kicked off) football etc, like it?... in the small town of Odense on the central island of FYN.

Denmark is made up of three islands, and is a really nice country, with a really chilled laid-back attitude.

We were told there was a noise problem with a neighbouring business, so could we keep the noise down. Dennis took off his guitar and said, "Right, if I cant play as nine below zero play, then we will play acoustic", it really didn't matter in the end as our acoustic show was pressed into action and the crowd in the Dexters Jazz club in Odense warmly welcomed what was on offer.

The following day, Friday, was a two-hour journey by road and east, over the magnificent Store Bealt road bridge, (11kms of jaw dropping suspension bridge engineering) and on to the easterly island of SJAELLAND, where Copenhagen sits on the Eastern coast. For those of you wanting a nice weekend break, and only a 70 mins flight, I really think Copenhagen deserves your best attention, I think I can say this to you with some authority, without sounding a know all, as we see so many great places with our shows. Go see it, its wonderful.

Our show that night was in the Mojo club in central Copenhagen, and yet again we chose to play acoustic. It was crammed packed to the rafters, and it seemed that everyone smoked, and not only smoked, but pipes too; I could barely see Dennis the other side of stage through the ether. I think Denmark goes non-smoking soon and working in these conditions is not easy, so it will be a blessing next time we return. Despite this drawback the place was wild and they would not let us leave the stage after show time.

The Saturday was up to the north of SJAELLAND and close to Sommerland on the coast. It was lovely up there and reminded me of a Northern Belgium coastal town hotel. We played for the blues society and it too went into encores, albeit, electric this time. We dined and drank the local wine after the show to the sounds of Jimmy Hendrix on the beat box, then headed back for some shut eye and the Stansted flight next day, (Sunday).

I would like to thank the delightful Brigit as our tour Manager and driver for looking after us.

Right, Tescos doesn't call today, as I have something in the fridge... Well, I thought I did??

God bless, Felttip Marker.xx

From the well heeled in Henley to taking stock in Stockholm
February 2007

Hello all,

January has been unusually busy for us this year as we have been in prep for filming our Rheged shows in Cumbria, in fact Christmas was hardly over and we were back in rehearsals in Brendan's studio... well... its a loft conversion really but we get surprisingly good results up there with the pigeons and crows.

I had an enquiry from Gary Moore's office to play on Gary's new record, and that the sessions were to take place in the same area as our first kick off show in Stoke row near Henley on Thames. I wondered if I could kill two birds with one stone, do the studio work, and then make the short journey to the Crooked Billet for the NBZ show after the studio sessions?

This was all very well on paper, but it happened to be the day when England closed, what I mean to say by this, is the violent storms that tore through the English countryside, I'm sure you remember? This proved to be a problem, as I couldn't get out of the studio access road due to felled trees.

A couple of hours later and tree fellers were armed with whatever tree fellers are armed with and Gary and I were heading out of the studio and down to the magnificent Crooked Billet in Stoke row. I was surprised that anyone managed to get there at all with the weather as it was.

I suggested to Dennis to ask Gary if he fancied sitting in for the second set of our acoustic show. Within what seemed like minutes an amp appeared from the studio and Gary was trading licks with Dennis. It was one of those impromptu moments that were an inspiration, and the entire crowd and the band had a real unexpected ball. Fantastic, and thank you Gary.

The next day we were off to Wrexham for the next show (acoustic) but it too had suffered high winds and the power was down, yet all tickets were sold, so a generator was hastily recruited into service and the show went ahead, albeit, without heat... I was bloody freezing and seriously considered wearing a heavy coat on-stage, but didn't want so appear a southern Jessie, with all these biker types in tea shirts. I must say I don't enjoy the cold at the best of times and it spoiled my night, yet the crowd loved the show even though I had to prise the harmonicas off of my lips as they were frozen through. I felt like a bit of cold meat in the freezer.

Perthshire and Scotland was calling and we headed off to play the Bein inn in Glenfarg. This is an intimate little venue, and our same loyal friends seem to turn up come rain or shine to enjoy the evening with us. We actually used the Bein inn for our warm up show, as the next two days in Cumbria were to leave the band shattered afterwards.

We filmed the Rheged, Cumbria shows for a new acoustic DVD that will eventually surface sometime this year?

We moved around the lakes and filmed location shots hoping on and off boats etc, in fact the boat master took one look at Gerry and said, "Hey Gerry, loved the book" He apparently used to come to see Gerry, Brendan and myself in the old days when we played the Cartoon in Croydon. Small world Eh?

Another story that reached our dressing room was that a chap had gone out and bought a new car and was road testing it out between junctions on the M6 motorway, saw a sign that we were playing, but thought we were not in existence anymore, bought a concert ticket, bought a hotel room for the night and come see us after twenty odd years away.

I felt the pressure was truly on for these shows and was very nervous backstage pacing up and down, yet strangely enough a calmness ran through me at camera roll time and I felt good.

Odd as it may seem, I've never been blessed with super self-confidence and the only time I am comfortable with myself in life is when I am on-stage.

We recruited Dennis's lovely wife Helen to do our make up, and I seemed to be in the chair for an eternity as compared to the other guys... Dennis reliably informed me that it was because there was so much more work to do on my face to get it to look good. Bastard!

We can't thank you all enough really for coming great distances to be part of what I hope will be a nice DVD for your collection, Thank you.

If all this wasn't enough, Skegness was the following night. We stayed in the Butlins Chalets and I can remember thinking, it wasn't like this when as a working class S/E London young family in the 60's we had to sleep in bunk beds with my twin sisters above me teasing me from the bed above. Ghastly!! Alas, not anymore, it resembles Florida now and the chalets were surprisingly comfortable, I have to add though the memories of childhood holidays in this depressing part of our country has left its indelible mark on me and I was happy to get out of there the next morning. I'm sorry to ramble. The show itself went brilliantly and we met up with many old friends who could not get to Rheged.

Sweden loomed this weekend, and we played three shows out there with the last on Sunday night in the ultra hip Stockholm, and the Akurat club.

Right, all done, Sainsbury's calls. Sad old sod, I know.

See ya, Mxx

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