Tap Housing

Arriving in the US is never straightforward, changing planes in Philadelphia an hour late I dordle in the urinals when I should have gone on the plane; my patient and purposeful partner reminds me of the annoyingly casual approach I have to situations such as these. She’s right of course; I do. I don’t want to be dictated to. It’s a defence mechanism I say but not convincingly. So we have an hour to get through customs [and of course we are at the back of the queue because of my bladder stop…really I’m sorry I really am] with just an hour to collect and recheck the bags before the next flight to Norfolk which takes off from the other side of the airport. Like I said I am truly sorry. We aliens stand in line. Naturally the customs officer wants to know if I have smuggled any drugs into India, Morocco, Denmark and so on working his way through all the stamps on my passport. Naturally I get the overwhelming temptation is to say yes but…well….it’s probably not a good idea. My interview takes about 15 minutes; my partner is done in as many seconds and checking her watch. It’s touch and go. ‘They always stop me’ I protest meekly. It’s a dodgy musician thing. We just manage to make the plane with 2 minutes to spare. I’m here in the US seeing friends and playing a gig, just the one show tonight in the Taphouse Bar in Ghent. The last time I was here in '97 I played a festival at the NARO THEATRE, a benefit for the truly inspirational HOPE HOUSE organisation who’s enigmatic director Lynne Seagle is our great friend and host for the week. We are collected at the airport by Dennis the taxi driver known for his reliability and his charm. He laments the passing Reagan years with a passion only ex military persons can begin to understand. I didn’t say anything. It was a pleasure. We arrive around at 5.30 US time and the three of us take a bath together. Pay attention now… At 10.30 pm I play a simple acoustic set on a borrowed Yamaha guitar in a bar that hasn’t changed much since I last drew finger blood in the hand basin after an accident with a rusty plectrum [improvised]. It’s a battle with the yakking crowd but things improve as the set progresses. People are listening. I’d like to think I won the war. Some way into the set I feel like I’m hallucinating; I can see little pink clouds exploding in the footlights….so that’ll be the Guinness and the time delay then. Not bad. Tonight’s headliners are Lonesome George a three piece led by the hyperactive force of nature that is Jim Hazel; esteemed musician and local rock n roll enigma. They may have a lousy name but have a raw showmanship and competence that is a true pleasure to witness. Like an American Dr Feelgood . The following week me meet up with friends for a dinner party in celebration of the last one we had ten years ago. The next one can’t come soon enough. We love you Lynne, VP