Ha! Every year, the same thing. “I wonder will I get over to the puffin sanctuary…” Past experience says noooooooo. Can’t let the dream die though.
I’ve got a bad case of the Christmas Eve excitements – hyper since yesterday, completely not with it in work this evening. I imagine tonight will be a winkless night of sleep.
That’s the buzz at Rathlin – “So, the tent’s blown away, the generator keeps cutting out, and half the stage has collapsed because of a hurricane… But why have you stopped playing?”
Mini trouble in paradise the other day though, and this in the comfort and safety of my own home. I plugged in my gear, post-Galway, and the Machinedrum, well, she sings no more. So I dunno, the plucky little drum machine that could is probably going to have to go to hospital in Sweden, leaving me sad, bereft, and (most importantly) mildly stuck for Sunday’s gig. No cello either, that’s been “sick” since my last trip back to Ireland.
I really need to sort out a better way of travelling with gear. In the meantime, though, this could work out even better – just a laptop, midi controller, and soundcard. Less hassle, less worry, less things that could go missing/be smashed to bits/be abducted by aliens, the usual crack.
Goin up to Rathlin tomorrow morning. Yay! I love that place (the small portion thereof that I saw last year). Hoping to explore the island a bit more this time round. Holly and Regan from next Sunday’s choir will be up there too, so we’re planning (approach that word with caution) to have a bit of a practice while we’re up there.
Playing on Sunday; Sunday appears to be my most frequent gig evening. Six of them so far have been on a Sunday, must be that lazy lullaby girl’s voice thing. Hangover music. I suppose a lot of it has been written with a hangover, and the sort of clarity that comes with one.