Fire The Scriptwriter

Author: Mark

The Prelude, day minus eight

Thursday February 11, 2021

Part two

Mark:

It’s 11 at night and I’m about to go outside to have a chat with a friend about a relationship issue she’s having and that she wants to talk about. That’s what I innocently think as I close the front door and confront the cold. But this is a marriage. And it becomes clear pretty quickly that I have a scared girl on the other end of the line. I’m not going to get through this one by just listening like I did the other night. But what to say? I have no idea. So I just listen. As I do, it becomes clear that Maja really does want a way out. That could be simple enough, I think. If you really, really want to. Just leave. Pack, go and sort out the details later. This is where we hit a bump in the road. She says she has nowhere to go.

I decide to push a little on this one. Get another apartment? I hear a bitter laugh through the icy phone. She’s already looked into that, she says. Do I have any idea how hard it is to get an apartment in Stockholm? I’ll assume that’s a rhetorical question. OK. A friend’s place somewhere? That’s been looked into already. Nothing works. Surely you can stay with your mum? With this question I realise what it is I’m actually doing and it’s so far beyond ridiculous I try to push the thought out of my mind. But it got there all by itself and it’s deciding it isn’t going anywhere. I’m seeing the whole situation and realising I actually have an exit to offer. But I’m not going to offer it until I know all options have been explored. She says that maybe, just maybe, the mum idea could work for a while, but she’s very clear that it wouldn’t be sustainable for more than any longer period of time. I start to see where we’re at. It would not be a cosy arrangement. Not at all. From what I understand, it will be a hard sell of a one way ticket back to the place she’s trying to escape from.

I truly can’t believe where my mind is going, but the facts are these. We have a room about to come available in our place, from February 19. One week from today actually. Someone was interested in it and we all thought that was a done deal. But the guy unexpectedly pulled out a few days ago. So it’s still free. With that, I realise I can offer Maja at least the possibility of an escape so that she might not feel so trapped. After she’s finished talking to me about what a no-no living with her mum would be, I realise she’s out of options and I have to offer mine. But will I really? Can I really? Can I say those words? It’s one of the most ridiculous ideas I’ve ever thought of and is sure to be met with hollow laughter and a reply along the lines of, ‘I’m not just going to up and move to London.’ But really, what I’m really thinking is that mentioning this as even the vaguest of possibilities will give Maja a new feeling of control because she’ll know she can now change the situation if she wants to. I think the offer of somewhere else, no matter how implausible, could remove the feeling of being trapped. You see, I’m even procrastinating here writing it.

I must contemplate this longer than I realise because I get a prompt. ‘Are you still there?’ I am. I’m just thinking. With that, I realise I now have to say something. It’s my turn to do the talking thing. But the words I’m about to do the talking with don’t feel real. They’re there, but until I say them they won’t actually exist. Is that true? It’s like nothing else could possibly come out of my mouth right now, but at the same time I can’t bring myself to say it. The silence hovers for an uncomfortable few more moments. Moments which will be the last of the before before the after. Moments in both of our lives which will never be the same again. Like someone about to dive into an icy lake, I take a mental run and jump and just do it. The words happen, almost independent of any thought, tumbling impatiently out of my mouth in a mini torrent of absurdity.

‘You could come here.’

It’s her turn to stop, to pause, to feel the same disbelief I’m feeling as they’re out in the open. Newly born yet already fully formed. My saying them hasn’t changed anything. They were always going to happen once they’d assembled themselves, foetal like, at the front of my mind. It doesn’t even really feel like I’m the one who’s said them. In fact, I’m sure I didn’t. They just saw the gap and jumped out. All on their own. Now it’s for Maja to see if they can be harnessed, controlled, or led in any way. She does her best. 

Maja: 

I kinda expected it. I’m still shocked but I kiiiiiinda figured it could come to this. I was looking at Mark’s Facebook a couple of days ago and I saw an ad for a room that he was trying to find a new tenant for. I also saw it had been posted months before, so this couldn’t be the room he was talking about. But that didn’t matter. This got me starting to dream about being able to go there because I was thinking I just didn’t want to be in my situation any longer. I even looked at the car route to the UK. But I really didn’t quite expect anything to happen. How could it? Ever? Just not possible. A total impossibility. Inconceivable. Now an offer has actually been made, it feels unbelievable. Hearing the tone of Mark’s voice while he was talking me through my options I realised how inappropriate he must think it would be for him to offer that room to me. So when I think of how to anwer, I’m very careful in responding in a way that he won’t know I’ve looked at and considered this before. I make sure not to say yes right away but to give the impression I’m only thinking about it, that maybe going to sleep on it. My idea is that I could give a more concrete answer tomorrow.

‘What do you mean?’ Maja asks, sounding stunned. ‘All the rooms in your house are taken.’

I’m a bit perplexed at this reaction. Surely she knows I wouldn’t say something like this if it wasn’t possible. I take a breath to keep my speech on an even keel and begin to explain. ‘One of the guys is moving out next week. It becomes available on Friday. The 19th. I tell Maja here and now that I see this offer as really just a conceptual thing. I’m not at all expecting her to take it up and move here. That would be an absurd idea. What it does do, I think, is give her the possibility of having the freedom to change things if she wants. To not feel as trapped as she has been feeling. Now she takes me by surprise, saying she’s already considered a move to London. She’s even looked at the route she might take from Sweden, through Europe, to France by car to catch a ferry to the UK. Damn. She even knows how long the drive will take. I’m stunned by this little turn. ‘So you’ve already been thinking about this?’ Well, that was a silly question. But what else do you say to something like that?

I’m close to home and we agree there is a lot to think about and maybe talk about seriously tomorrow. We finish the call and I get home just around 12:30am. We’ve arrived at Friday 12th, exactly one week to the 19th. As I take off my jacket, a new disbelief takes hold of me. I don’t expect anything to come of what we’ve been talking about, really I don’t. But a huge question hits me, all the words coming all at once. What the hell have I just done?

Day minus six

Saturday February 13

Mark:

After the initial rush, it’s onto details today, mostly getting the covid nitty gritty stuff sorted out. Which means knowing exactly how to go about everything, especially as we’re looking at, bizarrely, this Friday probably being the day this will all happen.

I just want to make sure she knows the room might not be ready if she arrives on that day as Elvin has really started prevaricating; his plans are changing almost by the minute. I’m even starting to get worried that he might actually not leave on the 19th so I make it clear to him that he’s given us his intentions and that someone has now already made plans to be here on that day. He says he understands and he’ll make sure to leave the house on that day even if he has to stay somewhere else before leaving the country like he’s intending. OK. But I still tell Maja that she might want to postpone until at least Saturday to give me a chance to clear the room out and have it ready for her. She’s not phased by that in the slightest. No need to have the room ready, she insists. She’ll help clear it out and clean it if needed. And if he’s still there when she arrives, she’s cool to chill until he’s disappeared. OK. As long as she knows and is fine with it. Her reasoning is that if she comes almost any other day after Friday next week, she’ll be looking at two flights, meaning possible covid planning for any transit country as well. Basically, it could all start to get messy and complicated, not to mention more expensive. OK, so Friday it still most likely is then.

Now to book the covid travel test, which will happen on Tuesday with the plan to have a negative result returned from a test time no more than 72 hours before flying. Which means Wednesday and Thursday could well be spent worrying about a possible positive result. Nothing to be done about that. Take the test and wait and see is all you can do.

Ten PM and she tells me the flight is booked, and the corona test is also in for Tuesday. This really is motoring now. Next up is the passenger locator form and ordering the test kits which she now knows are to be used and posted for analysis on the second and eighth days after arrival. Unless subsequently told otherwise, you are then free to go out and about on day 11.

Now we start to look forwards and Maja asks if she can send me a shopping list for things she would like me to get from here. So I’m now acting as a sort of a one man advance party, making sure everything is ready on the ground for a new arrival. We’re talking toiletries and bedding stuff. Nothing major, but still very preferable to have available from minute dot.

Now, beyond actual practicalities, we get to talk about fun stuff. First item on the agenda: What bass will she buy when she gets here? She’ll be traveling without any of the three that she currently owns, which will all be left in Sweden, along with amps and anything else bulky. So I get to help her shop online, which means I am now vicariously buying a bass. Cool. I guess that’s a level or two above window shopping. It’s fair to say we spend a lot of time looking at this and a lot of basses get chosen and then rejected. The main issue is doubt over really committing to making a purchase this big for something you can’t even try out. I know you can return within a reasonable period, but it’s bad enough to have to think about this with buying clothes online, let alone a new bass. But really, this is a very nice problem to have after some of the other stuff contained in the minutes so far.

The bottom line for today is that tickets have been booked and practicalities, as far as they can be, have been sorted. Now she has the wonderful prospect of Friday to look forward to when she can leave the stresses of Sweden behind and head off to a new adventure in London, which of course starts with the mandatory 10 day period of quarantine or, more accurately in her case, a kind of legally enforced rest. I get the feeling it is being very highly anticipated as she says, during one exchange of a three hour skype chat that goes way past midnight, ‘I feel I could sleep for a week.’ But maybe just a thought or two of being active as well as she says, ‘I’m not usually a runner, but when I get there I wanna run just a little bit. Just from the joy of freedom.’

Maja: 

Today is about preparation. And about getting along. We have a chat and he acts supportively towards the idea of me going to London. He knows that I’ve been serious about music lately and it makes sense that I want to do something that breaks the depressiveness we’ve had at home lately. He really isn’t happy about it, but accepts it, which is a relief for me. So for today, we decide to go on a date. I prepare some details regarding travel with Mark, and pack up a bag with Tommy’s necessities. We decided to go on an outing to the forest with Tommy. It is sunny and it is beautiful outside. Minus 10 degrees C, so we need to have warm clothing on. All three of us. We have two layers of trousers, winter jackets and of course Tommy is dressed in his winter jacket as well. Tommy is a Chinese Crested Hairy Hairless Puppy, around five months old. This breed is known for being very cold sensitive, which is why it is important that we dress him appropriately. And since it is so cold, I usually let him sit in my jacket as well. He is tiny, so it is OK. He fits nice and snugly under my big winter jacket. 

We drive to McDonalds to have a little lunch in the drive through before our outing. We order food, and park in a place with a beautiful view over a snowclad highway, where we eat our hamburgers and talk. We talk about my trip to London. About what I am going to do there. He is of the belief that if you’re going to do something a bit crazy, you might as well get it over with while you’re still young. I couldn’t agree more, but that’s not really what this is about. I keep that thought to myself. But I am hugely appreciative that he is supportive of my decision to do this. Even though I know he doesn’t want me to go. He is acting tough handling the reality he doesn’t want to accept. I’m having a hard time being cheerful. I feel like a traitor. But I do my best, as always. We finish up, and I am embarrassed by the amount I have to throw away. I can’t possibly stomach a whole burger. I somewhat manage a third. I drive us to the national park 30 minutes from where we live. We’ve been there once before, it is a beautiful place with cows, pigs and ducks and other farm animals. But we seem to have put a different part of the enormous park into our GPS, so we end up at a place we’ve never been before instead. The forest we drive through is absolutely stunning, with about 10 centimetres of snow on the tree branches. The branches of the oak trees are heavily weighed down by the snow, and it glistens in the sun. When the wind blows we can see huge amounts of snow fall down from some branches, which then shoot back up from the released tension. The ground is covered by about 50 cm to a meter of untouched snow, painting the landscapes in white. It is probably the most stunningly beautiful winter landscape I’ve seen in my entire life. 

We park in a little parking lot in the forest, get out of the car and take a walk on a hiking trail in the forest. The trail goes over a little stream that amazingly is not frozen yet. The little stream pourls as we walk on a bridge a couple of meters over it. It feels a little scary to look down, I think as I lean closer to the edge to take some photographs. The sun is shining, and everywhere I look it sparkles and glistens. The wind is coldly kissing my cheeks, that get red and a little bit sore. We walk onto a little frozen lake, talking about the forest and how amazing it is that we can actually walk on top of a frozen lake without the slightest fear of the ice breaking. The ice is too thick to break, it’s been minus degrees for weeks by now. After a while I take Tommy up in my jacket and carry him so he can warm up. 

It is the ideal winter date, of a seemingly happy young family with a dog and a bright future. 

Our last date.

Day minus four

Monday February 15

Maja:

I am spending the days talking to my family and packing.

Mark:

I’m damn sure I had corona back in February, but things have been feeling a little strange lately. Nothing major, but you never know. And corona tests have apparently been a little easier to get lately so I booked myself in last night for one today. It’s a bit of a walk away, 30 minutes or so to Islington. Not ideal if you really are full on symptomatic. How is someone supposed to be able to do that? I arrive at the place and I’m expecting at least some kind of gym hall. Maybe something that looks like a medical centre. Nope. What I find looks more like a field hospital. It’s a large tent, but it isn’t even enclosed. Those poor people working in there, fully exposed to any kind of cold and wind that might happen. Which is a lot right now, as we’re in February. On either side of the tent are five little rooms separated by canvas. In each of those ‘rooms’ are what look like rough, hastily constructed chairs and desks made of bare wood. I’m also expecting some kind of professional on hand to perform the test on me, but no to that too. Instead, when I’m indicated to enter, I’m given a little bag containing a test kit. I do what with this now? Go to the empty room over there, the one that someone’s just finishing sanitising, sit down and follow the instructions on the wall.  So yep. I’ve come to a testing centre to take a self test I have no idea how to do. Well, I guess millions of people have already done these so how hard can it be? Just follow the instructions on the wall step by step. OK. Sample tube goes here, stick goes there, bag goes there, and I have my bits and pieces arrayed out in front of me. It looks mildly complicated and quite medical and technical but again like I said, millions have done this before me and I must be more or as intelligent as at least a few of them so surely I can do this too. Step one, take stick and stick down the back of throat. Simple. Apparently after this you take same stick and stick up nose. Ah. I’m starting to get it now. Then stick is sticked, sorry, stuck, in bag. Then all done. OK, so not quite as intimidating as it seemed when I was first given a bag full of medical bits and told to get on with it and come back when I was done. But stick down throat. This doesn’t go so well as the stick sticks my sick trigger. Oh dear. I try desperately to hold it back and, well, you can imagine the rest. Let’s just say I manage not to make a mess of the table. I now have to call out for someone to come and give me another bag of corona sticks so I can go again. I’m seriously apprehensive this time and really have to hold on so as not to have to repeat it yet again. Ten seconds you’ve got to hold that thing back there, right in the gag reflex zone. I reckon whoever designed this was having a bit of a laugh, imagining all the self induced projectile vomiting going on in test centres all over the country. But I just about manage it this time. All that’s left now is to ram this thing up my nose to complete the sticky process. Done, all safely deposited in aforementioned tube, and now in self sealing bag. Drop that off at whatever you call the outgoing reception, and test experience concluded until the next bit which is to see whether I’m positive or not. I guess if I am I’ll already be well aware by the time the results come but this is how the system works. Spoiler alert: it comes back negative. 

Buying a bass in the time of Corona. Been looking into it, and yes they can be returned within a week if you’re not happy. Still not ideal given the number of attractive basses you might try in a shop before buying but at least it’s not a commitment to something you’ve only seen a pretty picture of.

I have a few things I have to do here to make sure things are prepared for when Maja arrives. Yes, we’re working on the assumption that her covid test will be negative. One of my little tasks is to make sure she has all the bed sheets and towels she needs. Jenn, being a girl herself, knows how important it is to get these things right and is happy to come out with me to make sure I pick up the right things. So that’s one little fun excursion this end. We head out into Ktown and go Maja shopping. I return home with quite a decent haul and lay it out on our floor. All the necessary bedding stuff, towel, other toiletry bits and pieces, extension lead, coathangers, and a Europe to UK plug adaptor. I’ll be adding at least another one of those. I take a picture and send it to Maja so she can see that things really are coming along here and that things will be set up as well as they can be so that she can have as seamless a landing and arrival as possible.

As well as my preparations here, our phone calls are starting to become more and more regular as she needs a little support and steam blowing in between what I’m hearing are some really intense conversations over there in Sweden. Damn. She’s meeting a lot of resistance to this. People really don’t want her to go. It’s a trip away to get some head space while getting out of what seems to me to be a bad situation. I think I can say that now. Through our extended regular chats, I’m really starting to get a good enough handle on how things are.

This is making Friday become a more and more anticipated date and we’re starting to talk about English things to do and see, and just a few more fun things in general. Dr Who is a favourite show of hers, she says, and she’s looking forward to maybe catching up on some episodes here that haven’t been available in Sweden. I decide not to say it just yet, but star of the show Matt Smith is a regular at The Palmerston and lives right here in the area. That’s a fun little fact to keep to myself for now. We’re also anticipating conversations without internet lag. You know, Skype freezes and the like. Very frustrating, especially when you talk a whole bunch about something then realise the connection dropped out sometime just after you started talking. Also, not always an optimal way to teach bass. When our conversations were all purely music related and very much at a professional level of chat, I’d get through a whole song she’d asked me to play so that she could film it, only to then discover her screen had frozen somewhere near the beginning and we’d have to go again. That happened quite a few times. But here’s another thing now I mention Skype. Since Thursday when the possibility of her coming to London was mentioned we’ve only spoken on the phone. We haven’t actually seen each other at all. I don’t know about her, but I kinda feel like I want to keep it that way. Those Skype calls feel like they happened a long time ago.

Day minus two

Wednesday February 17

Mark:

This is very strange. Me and Maja are starting to have longer and longer silences on the phone. Sometimes we kind of stay there simply hanging out saying nothing at all, waiting to see if one of us will break the silence. If no-one does, all cool. We just keep on hanging on. I really should watch myself with this. I must admit I’m really not best pleased with it. We’re kinda starting to act like two people at the start of a relationship. Anything either of us is feeling here, if that’s even a thing that’s happening, has to be an illusion. I mean, our conversations are covering all kinds of really deeply emotional stuff as I’m helping her through this week while she prepares to fly away from her marriage for what could be just a month or two. Yeah. There you go. She’s married. What the hell am I thinking about? Got to let this go. Having thoughts stray into that kind of territory when someone’s coming to stay in your home to get away from a difficult emotional situation really is not cool. Seriously not cool. And acting on this could not possibly lead to any kind of good place so just forget it. Really. Please. I think we’re just going through some really intense conversations that I haven’t shared too much in here, but just yeah, they are intense. And deeply personal. I can’t help thinking that stuff like that is going to play with your head a bit. I’ve just got to not play back.

Today Maja gets a realistion that flying in the time of corona will create the possibility of iconically empty airport scenes. Yeah, we agree. It probably will be like that. This is a moment in history, and something people will ask about in years to come. I’m very curious about what it will be like too and we speculate a little. But then, there are also stories around of people being on packed planes, so who really knows? An interesting little item to play around with for a bit anyway.

Since Maja took the test yesterday, time has almost stopped moving. It feels like an interminable wait and thoughts do turn to what she will do if it comes out positive. I’ll let her discuss that small issue. For my part, I admit that I’ll be very disappointed if it does come out positive and she seems very pleased to hear that. Like, ‘You really do want me to come?’ Yes, I really really do. We’re on another long chat and walk into the evening when she asks me to wait. A message just came through on her phone. Oh, she says. It’s from the test centre. I have to go and open this. It’s no fun at all as we hang up and I wait to see what kind of Maja comes back on the phone. It rings about a minute later and I stare at it, knowing that there will be a before and an after of this very phone call. This is where I find out what the after will be. I answer and immediately hear laughter on the line. Oh wow. It’s come back negative. That’s it. Game on. She’s coming. This has been the last thing on the list to check off. I stop and sit on a wall. The relief is immense. Far greater than I ever thought it would be. After the initial reaction, we just both hang on the line, neither of us saying anything, almost not able to take it in. Oh, this has felt like a long long wait, with so much resting on the outcome. I think we can tell from the reaction now that neither of us was taking this for granted. This is total relief and release territory. Weight lifted. And now I feel it come off, I realise it was sitting far heavier on me than I ever imagined. I walk now and still neither of us is hardly saying a thing. Just being together in this moment of magnitude. Finally we can say it. See you on Friday. Wow yes. There’s always been a little bit of an if in there. Now it’s actually a when. See you Friday. It doesn’t seem real.

And of course I will and can go to the airport. This whole furlough thing has been a bit of an advantage in this highly unusual situation as it’s meant I’ve been more or less available to take every phonecall, almost immediately reply to a message or jump on a chat, or yes, go to an airport on any day no matter what time a flight comes in.

We talk about the arrival a little on chat as midnight ticks over and we roll into the 18th, realising that we will meet tomorrow. The thought that we’ve never actually met is just the strangest concept to both of us and we wonder how it will be in an airport in these times of Covid. The travel restrictions dictating home or hotel isolation for 10 days only came into effect a few days ago – February 15 to be exact – and how you’re supposed to behave in all this is all so new and unknown. And I have a really shocking thought. This is a really big news story in the UK. Pretty much the biggest one right now, so of course the media and attendant photographers are all over the airports, mostly Heathrow. We will have no idea what it will be like until we actually both get there. A few questions. Will hugging be allowed? Are you even allowed to meet someone off a plane and then walk through the airport with them. No idea about anything really. Especially if we do find ourselves right in the middle of a media spectacle in arrivals. It really is possible. So we formulate a plan which seems ridiculous, absurd, surreal. But these are surreal times. If it does all look like being a bit of a circus, I’ll hang back away from the main arrivals section. Then, when Maja comes out, we’ll make sure to have made eye contact. If she sees me stay where I am she’ll know what to do. And that is to follow me as I turn around and walk directly to the airport bus station and to the stop for the shuttlebus. If there’s a quiet place somewhere on the way we can then say hello in the more traditional manner. But really, a lot of this will have to be played by ear if there is something of a situation. This really is CIA stuff and to really take us to the right level of CIA clearance, I’ll have to make sure to have walked the route to the bus stop from the arrival gate before Maja arrives so that I’ll know exactly where to go. Otherwise we could have the ridiculous situation of someone following someone who’s lost and is going round in circles or worse, doubling back on themselves. No. If it comes to this, I want to be able to see Maja, make eye contact, turn round and walk straight to where we have to go. No messing. Yes we see the absolute absurdity of it all. And now, with this conversation having taken us into the small hours we have arrived at Thursday. Which means we can actually say it so we do. ‘See you tomorrow.’ But we’re not quite finished there as we start to explore how this is making us feel after this long week that’s felt more like a month. I let slip here that I’ve been really tired during the days just like Maja has. But my excuse is that I’ve been staying up all hours watching the Tennis Australian Open. She suggests this is a convenient excuse and she might just have a point. The truth is that yes, I have been a bit on edge about all this as well but I really don’t want to go there in any kind of discussion. But we do start to go there now as I admit this is all hitting me a little. Hard? Maja asks. Just little tickles, I say. Like rabbit punches. But friendly rabbits. Oh dear. Line crossed there? But she says she feels it too and puts it into real words. Belly rabbit punches. Yeah. I feel you. And like that a phrase is born. Belly rabbits. Invented by us, I say. It really is time for goodnights and I sign off saying, Goodnight and hold those rabbits in. Oh, what the hell am I writing in these chats and what the hell are we doing?

London, day zero

Friday February 19

Maja:

I wake up early to finish up the last touches of the preparations. Bag is packed, I take a shower, then decide that I will bring that raincoat afterall that me and Mark have been discussing since yesterday if I’ll need or not. It’s always nice to have a raincoat so in the bag it goes. I can only take one suitcase so it has been really hard to choose what to pack. With Corona, it’s not like I’m not really going to be able to browse in any stores once I’m there, so it’s been important for me to choose wisely what to take. Mark’s been helping by buying me the bulky necessities, so I’m going to be set when I get there. I have what I need, and I’m ready to leave. With my heart as heavy as lead I say goodbye to my husband and Tommy, my dog. It’s really hard to leave. But I can’t stay. We wave and I take a last look at them and then turn around and walk away. With tears running down my cheeks. I look at the scenery around me, and it hurts so much seeing the place I had to fight so hard to get to slipping away from my reach. It’s cold and sunny outside. The tired rays of light glisten on the snow that lies undisturbed foot-deep on the side of the footpath. I walk the same path to the underground station that I’ve walked so many times before, and everything is so familiar to me. I pass the hairdresser where I got my ear pierced when I was a little kid. The swimming pool me and my family would go to when I was still in kindergarten. I have so many memories of this place, and it is with a heavy heart and tear stained cheeks that I message Mark that I’ve arrived at the station.

The trip to the airport goes without much trouble. My suitcase isn’t that heavy, and I’m only bringing one bag and a small backpack, so it isn’t hard to carry. I arrive at the airport way before necessary to have plenty of time checking in and it goes smoothly. When I reach the check-in counter the lady sitting there seems very surprised to hear that I am going to London. She checks my document to make sure that I’ve completed all of the required formalities such as the passenger locator form, ordered the covid tests for after arrival and of course that I have a certificate telling me that I have tested negative for covid. Everything is in order and I get to continue along. Once I’ve passed security and found the gate I finally start to relax a little bit. I call Mark up to see how things are going his end. Everything seems fine. He is also on his way to the airport to meet me. We talk for a while, and I feel kind of awkward not really wanting to call anyone else, so we just stay on the line. Just hanging on. Hanging out. Not saying much or anything at all, feeling relieved to know that we’re going to meet soon. 

We hang up after a while and I have to wait a bit on my own. There’s a lady walking around close to the gate with a survey and I decide to take part. It’s about why are you traveling to London. In normal times this would have been a completely unnecessary survey to do, but with recent events it is very much a valid question. Who in their right mind would want to go from a country where everything is nice and open like it is in Sweden, to a country which is in lockdown and pretty much still totally closed? To one of the hardest hit countries of this pandemic? Well, someone like me. I answer something along the lines of: to meet family/friends. That’s a fitting survey answer for a question like that. I don’t think too much of it until she expresses surprise and delight that she’s found someone who is going to London as an actual destination rather than using it as a transit point like, apparently, just about everyone else who’s going there.

It’s finally boarding time and I reach my seat. There’s not really anyone sitting closeby, which is greatly fitting for a day like today. But the plane isn’t completely empty either. I would say, maybe about 20 per cent of the seats are taken, but I’m not really looking that carefully. There is about a flight every third day, so that’s probably why they’re able to fill it up as much as they had. I sit down next to the window, wearing my compulsory face mask. The plane soon takes off and I have this immense feeling of relief. I’m on my way. I lean back and let myself drift away, listening to the album “In between dreams” by Jack Johnson. At my request of something to listen to, Mark recommended it just before I left. It’s a wonderful record, and I let it go on repeat as I allow myself to be transported to that wonderful state in between dreams. Dreams of a brighter future. Dreams of the unknown. And just sleep.

Time flies, and after I don’t know how long, we start to approach London. I sluggishly look out of the window, seeing the city that I’m going to live in. The city called London. I feel excitement starting to bubble up in my chest as, more and more, I see the details of the endless rows of brown buildings beneath the clouds. They look like gingerbread houses. London, the city of endless gingerbread houses in their neat little rows. We get closer and closer to the ground and I feel the impact as the wheels of the plane touch the ground. I’m here now!

I can’t help myself, and I text Mark, I’m here now! The first thing I do is tell him about the gingerbread houses. 

Mark:

It’s with some relief that I chat with Maja this morning. All seems to be going smoothly and she’s out of the door by 9am my time. She’s on her way now. However, by the time I’m on my way and leaving for the airport, she still doesn’t have a room in London. I was really hoping Elvin would have left by then so that I would be able to get in there and have at least something of a once over but timings just haven’t worked out so I’ll have to leave with him still occupying the place. Which means Maja will see it for the first time in whatever state he’s left it. I just have to trust he’ll do at least something of a decent job before he leaves. He’s been a good housemate and friendly enough, but he’s been pretty much been a keep himself to himself kind of guy so there are no tearful goodbyes. Or goodbyes of any kind as he’s out at work early and will be leaving while I’m out. So that’s that for Elvin. Good luck on your travels mate. On a scale of depth of feeling, it’s the equivalent of one of your goldfish dying. Probably your least favourite one.

The flight’s due in at 6pm but it can be a bit of a trek to Heathrow. And I have a few things to check out once I get there. I’ve also got one or two errands left to run to cross and dot the final i’s and t’s before Maja’s arrival, including a trip to Ktown to pick up some essentials for her that she’s asked if I could sort out. Coffee, orange juice, fresh fruit and the like. Nothing major because she’s barely been eating in Sweden over the past few weeks I’ve been hearing. All that done and I’m on my way to the airport by around 2pm quite confident of getting there in plenty of time to find the arrivals gate, and then to make sure I know the route from there to the coach station. But oh dear. I get down into Ktown tube and it takes a while for me to discover that the train I want has got issues today and there’s a substantial waiting time for it, rather than the usual zero to four minutes you can normally expect. Not cool. That almost never happens, but it’s happened on this particular day. Balls. Very reluctantly I leave the tube station to go back up to the street to catch a bus to Kings Cross, where I will catch the train to Heathrow. Disaster up here too as a whole bunch of buses aren’t running for some reason and I have another wait of 15 to 20 minutes when again, a maximum of four is to be expected. So, having given myself an extra hour for the journey, I’ve already lost most of the grace of that time. Then, when the bus does finally get here and we set off, I discover that Ktown is undergoing a whole bunch of roadworks and these cause even more delays. This really isn’t going very well at all. If I’d left in what I thought would have been optimal time and had this lot happen I’d probably be looking at arriving late by now, and Maja walking out into London with no-one to meet her. That just would not be an option. As it is, by the time I finally get on the Kings Cross to Heathrow train the timing is looking at least half respectable and I arrive at the airport a little before 5pm. 

Then I discover I’m already very close to the arrivals gate, and then that the coach station is also very nearby to that. Cool. I think I deserve those two mini breaks. All I have to do now is buy a couple of coach tickets and I’ll be at the gate ready and waiting by 5:30. Perfect. No. Problem. There was nothing about this on any website I saw but the Heathrow coach isn’t running due to Covid. And no other buses from here are remotely suitable. Balls again. OK. Let’s just get to the gate to be ready in situ and make a new plan from there. I park myself in sight of where the people come out and have a look at the tube plan I keep in my bag. Yep. This will do nicely. We can get a tube to Piccadilly Circus where Maja will be able to get her first look at central London. Then it’s a really cool but not too long walk from there to the bus stop by Oxford Circus station to catch the 88 that will go all the way to our house, or we can get off it a little earlier if Maja still wants to have that walk she was talking about before having to start that 10 day quarantine thing.

Now I’ve done this and I really am ready, I have a chance to fully take in my surroundings and to see how people are behaving. First, the good news is that there is no sign of any TV cameras. And people are allowed to come and meet friends and relatives; a sign says that only one person is allowed to greet arrivals. That’s fine. I counted myself on the way here and confirmed that I am indeed one person. The place is weirdly empty though. You’d normally expect to see whole families all milling around arrivals. But no. Just a few individuals dotted around, possibly also reflecting the fact that there will not be many people arriving at arrivals. This should be quite quick. I wonder how Maja’s flight is getting on. We’re very much edging towards 6pm now. It should be just about landing. And yep. There it is on the screen. Landed and on it’s way in. My phone pings. ‘Just landed. Waiting to get out. Woooooooooooooooooooooo!!’ ‘Welcome to London,’ I shoot back. This really is it now and she asks what our strategy for meeting is. She’s very pleased that I’m able to report we can just behave normally. With masks on, of course. She should be coming through soon, but no-one emerges from the gates at all and time starts to drag on. And on. And on. Then I start to hear people coming through the gates furiously complaining of waits of up to three hours. Oh dear. That’s not good. Neither is the fact that they seem to be coming out in very intermittent groups of three. And Maja’s talking of hundreds of people out there waiting to come through. I think I should settle in here. But after an hour she messages to say she’s near the end of the queue. Great. Then a message a few minutes later. ‘After this queue, do you know what they got?’ ‘Don’t know.’ ‘A new queue.’ Oh that’s a good one.

I’m clearly not the only one waiting far beyond what I expected but I think I can see the most uncomfortable person in the room. Someone thought it would be a really good idea to turn up at arrivals wearing a dinosaur costume. Yep. Full on tyrannosaurus rex thing. I’m sure it was such a laugh to arrive and anticipate the delighted shock of their friend. I wonder how that’s all working out now. I can see the costume over there this whole time. The poor guy, or girl, in there, has been waiting at least an hour and a half over the odds. And I’m sure that when whoever it is they’re meeting comes out, their mood will be quite different to what it was when the plane landed. Unfortunately I don’t see how that little drama plays out because I get a message. Only eight people in front of her now. Then two. Then.

I see her walking through arrivals all on her own, pink jacket on just like she said she would have, as though we wouldn’t have recognised each other. But then, maybe we wouldn’t have with the whole mask thing going on. I’m looking straight at her but she hasn’t seen me as her eyes dart side to side looking for at least a semi familiar face in this country she’s never seen before. I take a step forward and our eyes lock. Oh yes. Here we are now and we both walk to close the distance between us. All I want to do is hug her hard and let her know she’s OK now. And that’s exactly what happens as we say hello and pull each other tight as we finally find ourselves on the same little patch of ground. Then I tell her the bus is out but we have a new route. First, the lift, and arriving there we’re on our own. So our masks come off and we see each other fully and up close for the first time. Cool. Another hug, without talking, then the doors open again and a few people walk in so the masks go back on. After the lift I take the lead as we head into the tube and it’s really bizarre that there are hardly any people here. She asks where we’re going and I say it’s a surprise but that she’ll like it. She accepts that and on we go. When the train arrives and we find a carriage, we’re the only people in it. So once seated, we take the opportunity to remove the masks again but still neither of us speaks. Instead, she removes her right hand from her pocket and shows it to me, holding all the fingers up to give me a clear look. Oh wow. Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing? I don’t actually ask the question but it’s clear in my eyes. She totally receives the unspoken, incredulous words and nods slowly. With that she takes my hand in hers and leans against me like the weary traveler she is. As she does so I get a much closer look at her ring finger with that white band of skin circling it where a wedding ring used to be. I put an arm around her and we both snuggle in, hands still holding. But really, it feels very innocent. She’s tired and I’m just comforting a friend who’s had a really tough few weeks and more, and a bit of a journey today followed by an uncomfortably long wait in arrivals, all while traveling in the time of Covid. It just so happens that we only met for the first time a few minutes ago. It’s often too loud on the tube to talk comfortably so she waits patiently and trustfully until I announce that it’s time to get off. We’re in Piccadilly Circus and, with me carrying her suitcase, we walk up the steps and into the famous plaza with its overlooking motion and colour-filled advertising screens. Here, I get her to stand in front of them as I step back with my phone. Snap. Maja’s first photograph in London and we are right in the heart of it. She has truly arrived. Phone back in pocket and I lead the way again, heading off to Regent Street. In my left hand I have the handle of Maja’s wheeled suitcase. And now, in my right hand, I have Maja’s hand. We look at each other and smile. She isn’t letting go. And just for the record, neither am I.

We walk down Regent Street then I direct us down a side street to the right, then left to continue walking in the same direction. We’re now on Kingly Street and I ask if she has any idea where she is. She doesn’t. We continue a little way, and then she lets out a little oh wow, of recognition as we arrive in front of Ain’t Nothin But…The Blues. London’s world famous blues bar and a major venue in the jam world of Mark’s Diaries. We stop here for a selfie, chat for a little while, and then we’re back off on our way, talking about everything, nothing, and just generally laughing a lot. And in this lockdown London world, there are times when it feels like we have the city to ourselves, at the very least we are totally alone in these side streets. Yes. Right now, London is ours so much that it feels as though we’re wearing it. We walk past the famous Carnaby Street and its imposing sign and back onto Regent Street where we cross the road at Oxford Circus and go on over to the bus stop for the 88. We wait there, still holding hands and talking for five minutes or so and then Maja asks if it’s possible to walk back to my house from here. It is. ‘Can we do that?’ she asks. Yep. We will. And so we walk. Hand in hand all the way. She’s fast, and I’m more than happy to keep this pace. As a result we heat up quite quickly and jumpers come off somewhere halfway between here and Camden town. All the way she’s marvelling at how old so much of the architecture seems to be and I delight in pointing out buildings that are hundreds of years old, yet sit perfectly comfortably wedged in between their modern cousins. Through Camden and Maja doesn’t know it yet, but we’re on the final strait as the road merges seamlessly with that of Kentish Town’s high street. We’re still holding hands and are just past the main shops of KTown when a woman remarks on our T-shirted appearances. ‘Are you guys not cold at all?’ she asks as she approaches, walking in the opposite direction. ‘Not at all,’ I answer honestly. ‘You should try it. It feels lovely.’ ‘I think I’ll leave it to younger people like yourselves,’ she says. ‘I’m freezing.’ ‘Walk a bit faster, it works for us,’ I call good naturedly to her as she starts to disappear into the night. She laughs and politely declines again. Next to me, Maja is almost in shock. ‘You talk to strangers over here?’ ‘All the time,’ I say laughing at the clear awe in her face. ‘You should try it.’ ‘No thanks.’ Give it time.

We’ve arrived and we take a left turn into the Carrol Close estate. For the past 10 minutes or so she’s been asking if some of the houses we’ve been seeing look like ours and I’ve been saying no, and she’s also been asking if our house looks like the gingerbread houses she told me earlier that she saw from the air on her London approach. Again, no. Then we’re in the estate and she sees the row of houses we’re heading towards. ‘Oh, they’re totally like the gingerbread houses I saw from the air,’ she says emphatically. OK. I guess we do live in a gingerbread house then.

I open the front gate and go to open the door to the house but Maja stops me. ‘Not yet,’ she says. ‘Can’t we wait outside for a while? I’m not ready to go in and meet a load of new people yet.’ Fair enough. I suggest leaving the suitcase right inside the door and going for a walk but she doesn’t want to walk anymore either. So we sit down on the small front garden step. There, still holding hands, we talk quietly about nothing in particular.

I’m sure you’re wondering if I’m feeling the slight stirring of something here and the answer is very much yes. And for the Jenn situation, it’s about time I say here that we’re just friends, just very close friends who happen to have lived together for quite a long time. Going on 12 years in fact. I might as well get this bit out now as well. We were in a relationship very early on, and that lasted a year give or take. The joke back then among our Madrid friends was that we split up and then started dating, which is actually a pretty fair take on what happened. And we carried on living comfortably together. It probably helped that the Hamburg jaunt with Drunken Monkees straddled the two realities of couple Mark and Jenn and friend Mark and Jenn. Hamburg was my pop punk band’s German adventure when we tried to emulate some foursome from Liverpool and set ourselves up there as a band that really could have a chance of doing something. It didn’t work out and I returned to live in Madrid with a girl I’d broken up with on the phone while in Germany. It was pretty much mutual to be fair and we made it quite clear in the subsequent years, through a few more moves together as well, that we were both free to pursue other avenues if something came along. She even once said the words, ‘Don’t think we’re going to grow old together.’ However, nothing really did come along for either of us, so we settled into a really quite comfortable pattern around each other which included living in the same room in this house in Kentish Town where we’ve been for the better part of five or six years now. I don’t really know about her, I don’t think she has, but I haven’t really been properly looking for anything to replace this. Not seriously, except for the odd mild dalliance here and there which I’ve always told her about. Over the years I’ve quite got to like our cosy friendly, companionable-but-apart comfortzone. Why look for anything else? This works. 

Well now Maja’s sitting next to me and our chat has subsided to a very comfortable silence with her looking the other way to me and out towards the far end of the close. I start to let in whatever it is I’ve been feeling and holding back over the past few days as I realise this could actually be something and I suddenly realise I’m in one of those moments in life you just can’t let pass you by. You think you’ll get another chance some other time but you really don’t and you have to take this one. This one that I’ve arrived at completely by accident. Alright, I deliberately said the words, ‘You could come here,’ but they were just words to help out. Nothing more. But then the seriousness began and I became a very virtual shoulder to lean on. Now I’m a very literal shoulder to lean on. If she chooses to, which she isn’t right now. Yes. I’ve opened the gates to my thoughts and feelings. I had them locked so tight, I thought, but they’ve suddenly turned into floodgates and become overwhelmed. With that, I know I really do have to do something right now or regret it and forever wish I had. But she’s suddenly so physically far away. She starts to say something, I think. But I cut her off. With my left arm already over her shoulder, I gently but firmly and quite quickly direct her head so that she now faces me. I can’t allow for heistation now. I just can’t. To hesitate would be to stop. To stop would be…I don’t want to think what it would be. I just follow on through with the movement, but then suddenly realise that she’s completely going with it. We meet in the middle and kiss. It goes on for quite a long time. With that, everything comes together. We part and I realise all my mental energy just went into making that moment happen and I have no idea what to say now it has actually happened. But there is no silence. She immediately jumps into it with a big smile and a wide eyed exclamation. ‘I can kiss Mark.’ ‘Yes you can,’ I say, with what must be a pretty stupid looking smile as I try to act cool. So she does. And I do. Again and again. Then abruptly she stands up. Did I say stands up? She doesn’t. From a sitting start, she breaks into an immediate run, still holding my hand. ‘What the h…’ I say to the open air of the street. But I have no choice. All I can do is launch myself upwards, pulled by her own force, and run with her. Together, still holding hands, we sprint to the end of the close. Then we turn and sprint back to the house. With that completed she turns to me and takes both my hands in hers. Ever so slightly out of breath she says,  ‘OK. I’m ready. We can go in now.’ 

We walk into the house to just a little bit of a social anticlimax. Given Maja’s hugely extended wait to get through security at arrivals, and the fact that we walked here from central London, we’re arriving a lot later than I expected. Neither Sam or Cris are still up, and Jenn is only around to say hi, to give Maja the bedding things and other sundries we bought, and then she pretty much disappears. That leaves me and Maja to have a look at what she has to deal with in the room that is now hers. Despite all I did to prepare her, she’s still stunned at how small the room is. Again, I did say but it really is super tiny; I will later learn that her walk-in closet at the apartment she left this morning is the same size. Now I take in the state of the place. By London house sharing standards it’s actually been left in an acceptable enough state by Elvin, but it’s not quite up to Maja standards. So although she’s had a long and emotional day, she insists we get busy with a full deep clean of the room before we can go to bed. OK. Let’s get started.

London, day two

Sunday February 21

Maja:

I’m in London. It’s a surreal fact to me and every time I try to reflect on it, it hits me forcefully by surprise. I am quite excited about being here. I’m not really sure what life has in store for me here, but that is of less concern. Right now, I’d just like to rest and talk. I spend most of the day with Mark, staring at the ceiling, telling him about who I am and listening to his stories as well. All while looking out the window at the beautiful tree. We joke a lot, and one of our favorite subjects here is that since I can’t go out at all due to the enforced isolation, I could be anywhere. I could be in Brazil for all I know. And we continue to joke about how cold it is in Brazil this time of year. 

We have a garden I can use even though I am in isolation, which is lovely. So we go out there, just for a little while. But apart from that, we’re just in bed. Resting. Talking. 

Mark: 

Today, as we again hang out in the bedroom all day, mostly just staring at the ceiling, I hear story after story of Maja being held back professionally in her career and in music. Stories of people not wanting her to succeed or move away. Stories of her being bullied or ostracised at school. It all builds up a clear picture for me of people feeling they have to hold her down because they’re scared of her. Maja really cannot get her head around this concept. ‘Scared? Of me? Are you serious? How? Why?’ My explanation: scared of what they know she could really become if she was allowed free reign. Scared of her huge innate talent and intelligence. Scared of her drive to use both to their full potential. Scared that she could raise to levels they never could, thereby amplifying their smallness. So they hold her down, back, and discourage and psychologically beat her at every turn and opportunity. For many people, seeing anyone around them succeed only makes them feel more like failures. So rather than do something about this, they try to block any path to success for those around them. Or mock or denigrate their success or efforts with any verbal weapon they have. Basically, they’re terrified of anyone showing them what their lives could have been if they’d only tried and maybe believed a bit more. Maybe they never even had the opportunities to be fair, but that doesn’t mean they should try to remove those opportunities from others, but they do. In Maja I see an absolutely classic case of all of this. I’ve used the following example so many times when considering similar situations and it comes from a Counting Crows lyric. ‘It’s a lifetime commitment recovering the satellites/All anyone really wants to know is when you gonna come down.’ Yep. All I see is that people are terrified of Maja. I think that once she’s recovered from wherever she is emotionally and physically right now, and is able to direct her energies to where she wants to direct them, world, just get out of the damn way. This machine will be unstoppable. The people were quite possibly right to be frightened. They were every million ways wrong to try to stop it. I’m starting to see now that my job is to ensure Maja’s total wellbeing and to do everything I can to give her a safe space in which to relax and recover. To feel absolutely no pressure. And above all, not to tell her she can’t do something she wants to do, which is mostly musical endeavours after mentally breaking down and largely losing her professional identity in a field in which she continues to hover somewhere near the very top. This has been a really big part of how she’s got to this place in the first place – having to fight a constant battle to be who she wants to be. So hard that she’s lost the very sight of who she is. In just this second full day together I’m getting a growing sense that a big priority of mine is to make sure she discovers that again.

In between all this talking there is a little flurry of activity sometime mid afternoon as we remember, just in time for that day’s post, that Maja has to do the first of the two Covid tests as part of the legal requirement of her quarantine. It’s a good job there are two of us as it takes both of us to figure out how to do this thing, mostly how to put together the flat-pack cardboard box she’s been sent to post it all back in. In between this and intense conversations, we eat nothing at all until evening, totally forgetting to do so as the idea of food just slips off both of our to do lists. Again.

When evening time does come and we realise we should probably eat something, Maja decides it’s time she gets into the spirit of being in England a bit and wants to try something typically English. Hmm. What could that be? And given that it’s quite late by the time I’m going out shopping, options are limited. What is typically English food anyway? I’m really not sure. I browse the shelves of the supermarket and there they are. Supermarket bought so not fully authentic, but nevertheless, English. I bring back small individual pork pies, scotch eggs and a quiche. In case you don’t know, here’s a little introduction to all three. Pork pies are characterized, at least as far as I see it, by the type of pastry used to make them. So you have kind of minced pork meat in a dense crunchy pastry very rich in pork fat. Scotch eggs are a full egg wrapped in sausagemeat which is then covered in breadcrumbs and deep fried. So yes, these two things really do have quite high calorie counts. Then there’s quiche, described by Maja when I get back, as an egg pie, but sorry, no. But it is again a pastry based thing containing cooked egg and usually some kind of meat and cheese. And onions. So again, quite high on the calorie scale. I introduce all these to Maja along with that great cornerstone of all things British, brown sauce, a kind of rich, spicy vinegary sauce without which bacon, eggs and most types of British sausage are somehow incomplete. That might just be me, but you get the picture.

Maja:

By evening, I ask Mark to go buy me some English food, I think it is time for me to try something English. I’ve been here for two days now, and haven’t really tried anything yet, so it’s time. Off he goes, I fall asleep and when I wake up he is back. He’s bought a couple of things and is in the kitchen preparing them. When he’s done, he calls me down and we eat. For the first time today.  And we didn’t eat anything at all yesterday. We just had a little bit of sushi yesterday. What I didn’t expect is that English food is quite heavy. And I’ve been really bad at eating recently. So I sit in the kitchen and Mark serves me this decent sized meal, so the polite thing is to eat it, which is what I do. It’s good, the pork pie, scotch egg and quiche are all quite nice. Although not really any extreme flavours or anything which is great, but just quite fatty. I eat maybe half of the meal, and then I sit back, waiting for Mark to finish. Doing so, I can feel how my stomach starts to act up. It starts to cramp. Slowly at first, but soon more and more violently. I’m getting cold sweats and am really wishing Mark could finish up his portion so I can excuse myself. As soon as he does, I tell him that I want to go rest, and I hurry up upstairs and lie down. It’s painful. Really painful. I can’t remember what happened any further than this, everything that remains is the memory of pain. My consciousness must have faded away.

Mark:

I get back and she’s very interested to see what I’ve brought, and keen to try everything so we get to it. So far so fun, and I’m really quite tickled that she seems to really like it all, especially the brown sauce which many foreigners really don’t understand or remotely like. Then, as soon as we’ve finished eating, Maja says she needs to sleep. This, I will discover, will become a pattern as her body recovers from barely eating for the past however long it’s been. But right now, I am in no way prepared for what is about to happen. Almost as soon as we’re in the bedroom the convulsions start. I ask her what’s wrong but she can barely speak, at least not enough to tell me anything useful. Her whole stomach seems to be contracting and as it does, her head flies back, her eyeballs also shooting up and back as it does so. In between is the most horrible, at times high pitched hyperventilating. I try to get her to concentrate on breathing normally, at least, but I get little reaction to that. 

Otherwise, there’s absolutely nothing I can do but watch, horrified, not even sure yet what could possibly have caused this. As I watch helpless, my hand is on my phone and I wonder at what point I’m going to just call it and hit 999. This goes on for about five minutes but it feels like 55. Then slowly everything starts to slow down, back to normal-ish. Her breathing slows and she looks at me like, ‘What the hell happened?’ Like she’s just arrived in the room to the aftermath of some dramatic scene she played no part in. With that she closes her eyes and falls into a sleep I’ll best describe as restless. But asleep she is. I am not. I stay awake for an hour or so until she wakes again, all the time watching and making sure functions are all normal. Or at least normal enough that I don’t have to return to my phone and thoughts of 999. Those thoughts are with me almost every second of that hour.

London, day four

Tuesday February 23

Maja:

Another day, another good look at the ceiling. There’s really not that much possible to do, when the room is too small to even stand up and stretch in. Not that we don’t try to do that at times. It’s quite refreshing, now that the stresses around me have started to reduce themselves. I can just be here. I don’t have to do anything else. And the view from the window is great. 

For me, it’s not like I have any big purpose for what I am going to do here in London. It’s not like I came here to do anything touristy, or even to work. I’m just here, right now, right here. Without plans, without purpose. It was hard enough to get to where I am right now, and I don’t really fancy going anywhere else.

Mark:

I’m supposed to have a rehearsal/recording session with Sarah today but she gets in touch asking if I wouldn’t mind putting it off for now. No problem. 

Which means me and Maja can just continue as we are. She’s now started speculating that she could be anywhere in the world; all she’s seen for days now is the ceiling of this room, and the inside of the house. She hasn’t even ventured out to the garden yet, or at least not for anything more than a little look. Brazil, we say. Yes. We could well be in Brazil. Why not? As for me, well I’ve not seen much more since she’s been here. The furthest I’ve ventured is out to the shops, so I’ve only been out of the house for around fifteen minutes at a time, and often even less with the most basic shops just right across the road.

Our thoughts are turning more and more towards music and the possibility of her playing with me and Sarah. I admit that Sarah suggested first that Maja play with us and I nixed that idea saying she wasn’t experienced enough, but now I’m starting to think it could be possible; with me and Sarah being a bass only affair, there are all kinds of more simple lines Maja could play below my lines to give more depth to things. At first, we start to talk about rehearsing on our own in the house to have ideas and sections to present to Sarah. This then quickly and seamlessly morphs into, ‘why don’t we do our own thing as well?’ Oh, we really are going and getting excited now, and we start to talk about songwriting and our relevant experiences here. Maja became the main songwriter in Mad Box and I have my own adventures deep in the past, but nevertheless, they are there. Could I be about to start revisiting my songwriting bits again?

 It looks like that could very much be happening. Soon we’re talking about getting started with writing lyrics and wondering what kinds of songs we would write. We’ve been having little silly conversations supposing all kinds of nonsensical scenarios out of nothing. Today Maja starts supposing how you could get someone to love you and we started to think about how that could magically happen, and how a magical object could be developed from that. Before too long we come up with the beanie hat you wear and an idea is born. From that, we have a lyrical concept. Time to get working on it.

Maja:

OK, Mark. Enough crazy talk here. This is crazy. Me, who is just starting out, starting an originals project with you. I’m just not good enough. But it’s not really like there’s anything else happening right now, and I might just be crazy enough to entertain this idea. 

It’s a fun idea, and there’s nothing really that beats lying in bed, joking and writing down the silly thoughts that come out of our jokes. Like, what’ll happen if you put a magical hat on someone, so make them fall in love with you. But it’ll have to be a beanie. In my head I hear the melody of baby love as I sing, Beanie Love. 

Today I also call a couple of my friends in Stockholm to tell them I’m not around anymore and why. They turn out to be very emotional and hard phone calls to make, but nonetheless necessary and good to do. I’m met with sympathy, and albeit happy for that, I feel kind of strange. I’m not used to that kind of behaviour. 

Mark:

Then, how to realise all this? I have my bass and Maja will of course be buying a bass soon, but maybe we need a guitar. Then suddenly it comes to me. ‘I have a guitar. Or at least I think I do.’ I’m sure I bought one especially for songwriting a good while ago, then somehow I left it with Dan. I think. Why the hell I might have done that I have no idea, but I could put a call into him and see if I did and if he still has it.

Now we’ve decided we might actually do something musical together, I take a walk round to the shop and come back with three notebooks. We now have something to get started in. And we do.

I guess this is the point in the story where it could be written that the guy and the girl are in their room all the time just doing drugs. But we don’t do anything like that and know by now that that’s something neither of us is into at all. Yes, alcohol is a drug but in these four days we haven’t even had a drink. Neither have we watched TV. Not even so much as a Youtube video. No music either. Playing or listening. If we have anything you could call a drug it would be just ourselves and being with each other. And we might just both be starting to become addicted.

Maja:

I think there’s a song in that. Addicted to love.

London, day six

London, day six

Thursday February 25

Maja:

Mark is supposed to have his rehearsal with Sarah today. Apart from that, we haven’t been playing much music since I got to London, which means it’s time to start now. Mark has a riff he’s been playing with Sarah that he needs to remember for today. It’s a simple enough riff; it’s just that internalising the phrasing is kind of hard. So is there a better way to internalise new melodies than to teach them to someone? That’s the thought when he starts teaching me the riff for the song white rabbit. It’s simple enough, but the repetitiveness of it makes it easy to get lost in it, and that is why he needed to rehearse it some more. And for me, it’s quite amazing to be able to be of any kind of help. And I finally get to try the iconic Washburn that Mark has been using for all these years. It plays beautifully. It feels so special to have it in my hands. The bass that’s been accompanying him for all these adventures during all these years. Playing it, I feel more connected to Mark.

Mark:

Yeah. That White Rabbit thing. No idea why. It has just refused to stick in my head. This is where listening, listening, listening comes in but it still refuses to stick. No panic. I’ll get there.

In other, perhaps more significant news, Maja stops me cold and short today when, somewhere in the middle of chatting, she asks me if I’d be up for having kids. ‘I’m not saying I want them now,’ she says, ‘but if I’m to start a relationship with anyone, I have to know this is something that could be a possibility in the future.’ I get it. But the crazy thing is, not only do I not think there’s anything strange about the question, but I say yes straight away. Again, not now. But sometime in the future. I’m saying I would not rule it out and that’s the closest I’ve ever come to even entertaining the idea in my whole life. Since I was little more than a child I’ve said that I would never have kids and I’ve never come close to changing that viewpoint. Until now. And it feels totally natural to say that. What the hell is happening here? Apart from anything else, yesterday we were talking about not knowing where we were, and now we’re talking about kids. And a relationship? Well, this is certainly a something.

Maja:

I’m enjoying the time we spend together, talking, reflecting on life. And before any commitment, I’d like to know how Mark stands on some of the big things of life. Like kids. It’s only natural I ask. I’m relieved when the answer of yes comes back, with full confidence. It’s just such a shame that we don’t have that much longer to talk about it, because it is time for Mark’s rehearsal. Good luck.

Mark:

But, more than just a rehearsal with Sarah, today is the day we’re going to do a full recording of our show to see what we have and maybe have a template to start to show people.

As usual I’m taking all my gear including amp, so Sarah is coming here to help me carry it to hers. Yes I can manage it all myself but this is a nice little regular gesture from her and it does make things a little easier. But she has a slight ulterior motive this time which she has not been at all shy in hiding. She wants to meet Maja. But Maja very much wants to meet her as well. Afterall, this will be her first encounter with any of my London music friends, and so her first real encounter with the actual scene.

Maja:

I’m a bit excited. I haven’t really met any people since I arrived apart from Mark and our flatmates, and rightly so because of the quarantine. I’m still allowed to be on our premises, which includes our front porch, so I’ll be OK to go out and say hello to Sarah. When I hear the knock on our door, I follow Mark upstairs, getting all nervous. Mark opens the door with a key, wait what, he uses a KEY??? I don’t have a key yet. Does that mean I can’t get out? What kind of house needs a key to get out? This is all very strange.

Mark:

Oh yeah. I’ve forgotten to tell Maja about this key thing, or to get one cut for her. What if she really does need to get out for any reason? But even apart from that, without a key, she’s not just willingly in quarantine, she really is actually locked in. Oops. I’ve accidentally kidnapped Maja.

Maja:

Outside, a very excited and giddy girl awaits us. She looks so excited to see us. Like a little child she is bubbling and bouncing with excitement. Hello hello hello. I get all shy and try to act normal, say hello and everything. It’s obvious that she wants to say hello with a hug, and who am I to resist? We do some small talk, and then it’s time for them to leave for rehearsal. Both say goodbye and they start to leave. Wait what? Just like that?

‘Hey Mark, can you come here?’ Mark comes back to the door, I grab him by the collar and kiss him. See you later. I can see how he turns all flustered and red as he says ‘see you soon’ and locks the door.

I walk downstairs, to my room. I’m quite tired so I take a nap, but I can’t stop thinking: What kind of house needs a key to get out of???

I know I’m gonna get one, it’s just been forgotten since I’m self isolating. But still, what if a fire started or something? I just don’t get it, what about guests? You lock them in with you? What if you were creepy and the guest wanted to leave, they need to ask permission from the host that they’re trying to get away from. This is just not OK. How can they build houses like this? Is it only this house that is like this, maybe it’s the landlord that’s exceptionally cheap and hasn’t installed a proper door? But still.

Why do you have to lock people inside the house?

Mark:

These are all very good points and I have never thought about any of them, although it’s quite normal to have doors like this in the UK. Don’t ask me why, it just is. As a result of this system I’ve found myself locked in the house plenty of times, when I’ve been just about to leave and not able to find my key. And yes, then managing to make myself late, or even very late for whatever it was I was about to leave for. Very relevant digression. I once stayed over at a friend’s house – the house had a double lock so it could be locked from the outside but could still be opened from the inside. Unless someone actually did lock it from the outside, which my friend kindly didn’t do when they went to work. However, the housemates didn’t know I was in the house so yes. When they went to work, the door got locked from the outside. Cue a very embarrassed Mark having to call the office to say he can’t get to work today as he’s managed to get himself locked in a friend’s house and can’t go anywhere until someone comes back. Oh well. It was a nice day off.

I’m all packed and ready by around 5pm when there’s a knock at the door. ‘She’s here,’ says Maja. Indeed she is. We walk upstairs, I open the door, and Sarah’s standing there, all totally expectantly. ‘Are we hugging?’ We are. With that, the two of them are out in the small front garden hugging and talking excitedly like sisters who haven’t seen each other for too long. I leave them to it and go and get the rest of my stuff from downstairs. When I come back up, they’re still there and still both talking a hundred miles an hour. Finally, Sarah says, ‘OK Mark, are we ready to go?’ Yep. Once again, Maja tells her that but for the quarantine rules she’d love to be coming along. Next time, Sarah promises. Yes, of course. Next time. I’m kinda playing it cool with Maja, not wanting to be too ‘public’ in front of Sarah, so I just say goodbye and Maja goes into the house and we start to walk away. Then Maja calls me back to the front door. Oh, OK. I go back and she gives me a goodbye kiss right there in front of Sarah who, as I turn back, is looking on open mouthed, in stunned, delighted shock. ‘No,’ she says. ‘No.’ Yes. With that she goes off on a celebratory skip down the road before returning, giggling like someone 20 years younger, to help me with the gear.

On the way I tell Sarah how me and Maja have been talking and I think we could incorporate her into the act in a way I didn’t think was possible a few days ago. Sarah is well up for the idea, saying it is much more about attitude than playing, and that if Maja has one thing, based on what she’s just seen for the first time, it’s attitude. ‘And you guys are just right together,’ she says. ‘I could see that straight away. Now, if you can take that chemistry and turn it into music, you have gold, no matter what levels of ability you’re talking about.’ That sets off a spark in me. Yes, this really could be something to think about. And with that, me and Maja have a project. And definitely something to talk about later.

But oh dear. With everything that’s been going on over the past week, I am woefully underprepared for today’s session in which we intend to do a full, recorded rehearsal of our short show, which is five songs all segued into each other. I’ve barely touched the bass all week. I had a tiny little play today just as I realised this, just to make sure I could remember the rhythmic parts of what we’re doing and how each song goes into the next one. But as for the solo I have to do, I am way out of practice and am just going to have to make sure I’m warmed up, and fall back on what I’ve actually come up with rather than trying to improvise a bunch of cool stuff around it which is what I usually do. This is not a time for risk-taking in my playing. While I’m on the subject of practice, I really should address my Players Path journey, or lack of. Yes, I got right to the end of level nine, with a video for every track. But what I really wanted to do, right from the beginning of it all, was to record a single video of all the tracks, kind of like making a recording of a live show. To do that, I was studying some of the theory related to soloing and improvising within them and wanted to nudge myself onto that next level before moving onto this stage of the project. I had one tiny window to record that, a Sunday a few weeks ago when I had a few hours alone in the house when I could have got this done. But I hesitated, thinking I still wanted to check out just a few things before being ready. Then all this started kicking off and I’ve not fully been back to it since. Now by this stage, I’m really out of practice with it all. Gone totally backwards to be fair. Forget nuances, I would need to totally relearn whole sections of songs before even thinking of details of theory within them. As such, this project has to be declared on ice for now. But hey, I still managed to record a video for every song.

As it is, when we get to working with Sarah today, I’m barely holding on to what I can play with her stuff. But that’s alright. Sarah isn’t in great shape preparationwise either which lets me off the hook actually. It looks like we’ve both let ourselves go a bit, but we do each have a lot of experience and technique to fall back on. All this means it takes six or seven takes to get a full one take recording of our show. In between we just go with it and have a laugh at our own little hiccups and mistakes which we pretty much equally share which means I can feel a little less guilty at not being as prepared as I would normally be. Of this, Sarah is totally understanding given what’s been going on this week. More, she loves it and loves the story of where we are.

Just as I’m about to leave, I realise Sarah has an acoustic guitar. Of course she does. We’ve been using it to get a few concepts together, and there it is in the corner of the room. Could I possibly borrow that please for me and Maja to work on? Of course you can, she says. Brilliant. With that, we’re sorted.

Maja:

I fall asleep soon after Mark leaves for rehearsal, and I really need the rest. It’s wonderful to spend time together, and I’d rather do that, but if I’m alone, I want to sleep. All of a sudden, I’m woken up by someone walking down the stairs, and opening my door. Yes! He’s home! I sit up as quickly as possible and say hello.

In his hand he has a guitar, I wasn’t expecting that. Cool. I guess he plays the guitar, and has a plan about this, but I don’t know that much about this yet. But it’s always nice to have a guitar around, especially for songwriting.

Mark:

Oh yeah. Maja, I can play guitar.

Maja:

We soon make ourselves comfortable and continue talking. I’m not that good of a musician and I know that Mark pretty much only ever works with very skilled musicians. So when he opens up with the possibility of me working with him and Sarah, I’m shocked. You can’t mean me, joining you guys? Doing what? What? I was kinda expecting to maybe be able to join to watch a rehearsal, but really, I wasn’t even expecting that. I’m a beginner, and I play bass, the same instrument as Mark. So what am I going to do? Mark has been thinking that we both could play bass, he has some kind of concept that he is starting to build up in his mind. A concept that wouldn’t be too advanced for me and would support what he’s doing. Amazing.

Apparently, I’ve moved to London, without any set plans, and within a week I’ve joined my first band. I could even say my first professional band, since we’re planning shows and Mark and Sarah are, well, professionals. Just, wow. Or, wowsers, as Sarah would say.

I start to talk, going on about why one would go to London. No-one would go to London like I did, not after Brexit, not during Covid. I just continue to talk, just putting words on the thoughts that come out of my head, like a stream of running water. 

Mark:

It’s with some excitement that I return home and bring the guitar into the room to show Maja. And with it, the news that Sarah loves the idea of the two of us playing together with her. So it’s game on. We’re starting to reach whole new levels now. We’re talking about having kids, playing together in the same band, and also thinking about our own style and songs, which we can write on this new guitar we now have. Maja came to London to get away from something. Now she’s starting to feel she also went towards something. ‘What do you come to London for?’ she asks. ‘For the music scene, which doesn’t exist, but here we are talking about music. There are so many other reasons to come. But I just didn’t expect to come to London and fall in love.’

What now?

She continues talking, musing quietly to herself really, with me as an incidental audience. But I’ve zoned out. I’m thinking about what she’s just said and thinking how I should respond. Afterall, we’ve spoken about this being something of a relationship, and just a few hours ago we were talking about having kids together, or at least whether or not we were open to the possibility of it. And all the while we’ve been becoming closer and closer in every other way. As friends too. As close friends. As even best friends. Yeah. That’s how it feels, with the depth with which we talk, and the highs as well. Filled with the kind of joyful spontaneous shared laughter I’ve experienced with very few people before, or maybe even no-one before. And she’s said the word now. I think it’s my turn. She’s still talking but for once I’m not fully listening. She can see that because she comes to a faltering stop around the same time as I interject saying, ‘Maja…’ ‘Yes?’

‘I love you.’ A breath, a pause. It’s out there now.

‘I love you too.’

Maja:

All of a sudden, when my thoughts and words finally slow down Mark says:

‘I love you’.

I look him in the eyes, wondering where this came from all of a sudden. I stop to take a breath, to allow myself to think for a second. 

‘I love you too’.

Mark:

No more words are needed. No more words are spoken. This is almost too much to take. It kind of really is too much to take. I think it’s really happened. The magical, elusive formula, the ideal of countless books, movies and songs. I’m in love with my best friend. And she’s in love with me. To hopelessly paraphrase and misquote the movie Notting Hill, ‘There are billions of people in the world and you’re sent out to find just one of them that you love. Not only that, but they have to love you back. The odds of that are millions to one.’ Yes. It really is something that seems impossible. Now, here we are. To steal again, this time from Jason Mraz: ‘Lucky I’m in love with my best friend/lucky to have been where we have been/lucky to be coming home again.’ As we settle blissfully into our new reality, I play this song for Maja. And for me. For us. And yes, as it plays, I cry in front of her for the second time. Oh Mark, pull yourself together.

Then reality comes back to us. ‘Mark,’ she says. ‘Yes?’ ‘You do realise I’m still married?’ ‘Yes.’ And I have Jenn, immediately below us downstairs. Different situation but even so. Maja stops and ponders all this, then explodes in a whisper. ‘Boy, we’re in trouble.’

London, days eight and nine

London, day eight

Saturday February 27

Mark:

The basses arrive, along with a few accessories that were also ordered and it’s like Christmas. They look as beautiful as imagined. But all of a sudden, the tiny room has got even tinier. That’s OK. It’s for the sake of new basses. However, when we each have a little play of them, it’s fair to say we’re a little underwhelmed. This unpacking business has taken quite a while so we put our reservations down to high expectations and decide to leave them for now and come back to them when we have some time to really have a good look. Afterall, it could just be setup issues which could be easily fixed but which need a little more consideration that we’re really willing to give right now.

Instead, for the first time since we met we do something called TV watching. It’s kinda fun and we don’t do it for a great amount of time. There’s some discussion about what exactly to watch and we settle on Maja showing me Melodifestivalen. This is Sweden’s show to decide what their entry to Eurovision will be and it runs over several episodes and kinda looks like the final stages of The X Factor or American Idol. And it’s all set in Stockholm with location links from the presenters, which gives her a little revisit to her city and an opportunity to give me a virtual introduction. As we see the presenters in various locations, she talks to me a little about the sights, most notably those of Gamla Stan, the historic old part of the city.

Maja:

It’s fun to be able to introduce some things from my country to Mark. And if there’s one thing we both enjoy, it’s music. So why not take the opportunity to watch something live from Sweden, which encapsulates the best and worst of Sweden in the same short TV program without having to focus on really watching it? And we can have our own little guessing game. Perfect for tonight. 

Mark:

But mostly we concentrate on the songs and, as with all other things Eurovision, have a great time making our own selections about who should be going through and who should be going home. And also with all things Eurovision, we have great fun seeing our favourite selections completely ignored while songs we thought were total duds get the go ahead. Oh well. Songs eh? Everyone’s an expert and no-one knows anything. In fact, Ireland’s top music TV and radio personality Dave Fanning once spoke to me about the minefield of trying to gauge if a song is any good or not, saying, ‘No-one knows anything. There are no geniuses in this game.’

London, Day nine

Sunday February 28

Mark:

The day before the last day of Maja’s quarantine and excitement is mounting at her finally being able to get out and about. Out to see London, maybe out to see a friend or two of mine, because outdoor meetings of small groups is allowed. And of course, the possibility of the two of us getting out to rehearsals at Sarah’s. 

Maja:

I’m way too excited about this. I’ve not seen anything of this new country that I am currently residing in. Not anything apart from the calm neighbourhoodly view from my window. My feet are itching to be used. The weather’s been mockingly nice these last couple of days with the air bringing me a delightful spring taste. How will I manage to stay put during these last couple of days? Maja. Keep. Calm. You will get out. Soon. 

Mark:

But also, with Maja still not being able to go out, the priority is to really have a look at these basses and to see if we hadn’t been too harsh with first impressions. I’d had a look at the Lakland and Maja had mainly concentrated on the Sadowsky, but I think there’s been just a little bit of not really wanting to know because we didn’t want to have to admit the reality. But we have a look now and quickly conclude the truth after the excitement of New Bass(es) Day. These are objectively terrible. Not that we don’t like the setups or feels, but they are actually bad and should never have left the factory, let alone the shop. Both are full of fretbuzz for a start and no amount of tinkering with the action of either solves this problem. Then, the Sadowski’s frets, all the way down, protrude sharply to the side, meaning any playing up and down the fretboard would start to cut your hands apart. So no. Unplayable. The Lakland has similar issues and one of the screws in the body is rusty. Yes, actually rusty. If that’s what it looks like on the outside, what the hell is going on on the inside? No, we have no confidence in these basses at all. There are little physical alterations we could make to both, including truss rod adjustment, to realign the neck and eliminate fretbuzz, but if any adjustment doesn’t work, especially anything like attempting to file down frets, no refund would be issued as it would be argued that the basses had been physically meddled with. So they just have to go back. And not for resetups either. No. Nothing but a full refund will do. This particular shop will not be getting repeat custom from these quarters. 

Maja:

These new basses are just a disappointment. I can’t believe how bad they are. I thought buying two would reduce the risk of this so we would at least end up with one that we liked, but this is just ridiculous. Beyond.

London, days 14 and 15

Day 14

Friday March 5

Maja:

I don’t want to leave. That’s the feeling I’ve been tackling these last couple of days. I really have started to like it here, and I don’t want to leave. But really, what is it I don’t want to leave? I don’t want to leave Mark. I don’t want to go back to Sweden just yet. Not now. Not when I don’t even know what I really want just yet. Please, don’t make me leave. Please. 

I’ve decided I want to stay. Really stay. Beyond the six months I currently have on my visa. But how in the world will I accomplish anything like that? How will I stay in London now after Brexit has happened? I’ve been looking at different ways of how to stay here, but I’ve not really reached any good alternatives just yet. I’m used to working in English, so getting a job in London would be a piece of cake as far as language is concerned at least. But even if I wanted to do that, I would need a work visa. For that, I would need to go back to Sweden, somehow get a job in the UK, and then apply for the visa from there. First, by definition, that means leaving which we’ve established I don’t want to do. Second, I came here in the first place to get away from my situation in Sweden, not to go straight back into it. And third, finding a job in the UK and then applying for a visa sounds like something that would take a long time. And after all that, there’s a fourth. The application could simply be refused. What then? So no. This is not an option.

But there is this one thing I’ve heard of called the Global Talent Visa. On the face of it, it looks like the perfect fit for someone like me. I’m a computer/cloud engineer, which is one of the most sought after professions in the world, and the number one sought after profession in tech. Honestly, I’m confident I could get a job anywhere with a good salary. I understand that a Global Talent Visa would allow me to stay without the obligation of going and getting a job immediately. It also seems to be a fairly quick processing period – three weeks give or take. So me and Mark start to delve into the details of how to apply for that visa. 

Balls.

It doesn’t take long for us to realise that the whole thing is just impossibly complicated and seems set up to fail. Also, there are too many bureaucratic requirement boxes I don’t tick. Actually, it seems impossible that anyone as young as me could tick them all. And there seems to be a lot of coordination to be done from the employer’s side as well. An employer I don’t even have yet. And they make constant references to ‘Your sponsor’ without giving any information on what qualifies someone to be named as your sponsor. We spend a lot of time just trying to find some clarification on just that one point and end up being taken round in circles. It’s here that we give up. No. This is just impossible. Even if it wasn’t, I have experience in applying for working visas and it’s just hell. There are also so many things that can go wrong and I really don’t feel that confident about applying for anything in Brexit UK.

But I want to stay here. Or more than that, I’d like to stay with Mark. I don’t want to leave him. I think I love him. 

OK. I can stay here for now and worry about the six month thing later on. Until then, I really just could be here, living off my savings which I happen to have because I never really spent that much, preferring to be able to travel. Like many young people do when they save up and go travel the world. I want to do that, or at least my version of it. But for now I would really just be happy renting a room and being with Mark. I’ve had a high salary for quite a while now so I have a good enough amount built up. And if I was to go for a slightly more modest lifestyle to make my savings last longer, that would be no big deal. I saved most of what I earned when I was doing well, and it’s not that long ago that I was a student and getting by on barely anything at all. Also, while I was far from deprived growing up, it’s not like my family had any kind of great fortune lying around either. This is all to say that tightening up would not be a major challenge for me.

Of course, savings are always finite, and I don’t know how long they’re going to last. But for now, I’d rather live a little time stress free until I feel ready to go back to an office job, or maybe I’m just going to feel like doing something else. I don’t know. I just know that right now, I don’t feel ready to go back. Not just yet. I want to stay with Mark. Besides, if it comes to it, there are always opportunities to freelance in my line of work.

Can’t I just stay here?

Does it really have to be this complicated?

Then it comes to me. ‘Mark, can’t we just get married?’

Mark:

By now we’ve decided that we’re opposite sex versions of each other, with each one also covering gaps the other has. An example. Maja really wants to do music but doesn’t quite have the skillset or experience. Hello. To really do anything in music, you need to be quite good at technology and computers for recording, and internet stuff in general for all the other stuff. Did you read anything above just now that fits into that? Come on. Even my WordPress wasn’t up to speed until she came along. We’ve also discovered we have very similar work ethics and approaches. With this, she’s been starting to call me Boy Maja, an almost overwhelming feeling of approval given the total awe in which I hold her achievements, determination and aptitude. I guess that makes her girl Mark.

The idea of Maja staying in London beyond her six months has really taken hold and we’re researching how she could get a visa. Her preferred route is through the Global Talent programme which basically means companies can sponsor people they believe have abilities beyond what are available in this country. We’re in the middle of a roadblock and Maja’s trying to make a bit more sense of that. She’s deep in thought and reading so I decide to go downstairs and make tea. It will be the most momentous trip to make tea I’ve ever made.

I come back to see how she’s getting on, and kneel down on the bed in front of her to listen to the expected update. She looks us and all I see in her expression is exasperation. In a tired voice, she says, ‘This looks really complicated and undoable. We should probably just get married.’

Oh. OK. Yes. That’s it. That’s my response. I nod and say, ‘OK.’ Then I realise two things. First, the actual gravity of the situation and second, that I’m already on my knees. Alright, not one knee but I think you can see we’re already going about all this slightly differently to expected convention. My expression morphs to serious as I look deeply at her and she lets out a little giggle as she realises what I’m about to say. And I do. ‘Maja, will you marry me?’ Another giggle. ‘Yes.’ There’s no ring or anything. Oh, and there’s the small detail that she is actually still married. But just like that, two weeks after we first met, we’re engaged.


There’s only one song to play to mark the ocassion, so I dig it out. The Counting Crows’ Accidentally In Love. Seriously. When I went to the airport, I was going to meet a friend who was in a difficult time and needed to get away. I just happened to be able to provide a place to stay. Romance was nowhere in my mind, let alone the possibility that I was heading off to the airport to meet my future wife. But here we are.

This definitely has to be marked. This really is celebration time. So I go out and buy champagne, a purchase I augment with whiskey and ginger for cocktails. While I’m doing that, Maja orders in Thai food. A party for two, all set up on our wonderful cake trolley.

Maja:

I’m surprised when Mark, already on his knees, says, ‘Wait, wait, wait. That’s my line.’ 

He then grabs my hand and looks me deep in the eyes.

‘Maja, will you marry me?’

‘Yes.’

The rest of the day disappears quickly in happy hormones, champagne and Thai food.

I’m in love.

Mark:

So am I. Accidentally.

Day 15

Saturday March 6

Mark:

A gentle day after last night with a notable afterparty guest as our cat Toffee comes and joins us in the room for a while and hangs out on the bed. It’s her first visit so maybe she felt a change in the force. 

Maja:

Toffee is a little cat, with a peculiarly small head. I mean, her head is really small. Like too small to be true. But she is very cute, and I get to cuddle her a bit. But she is a scaredy cat. Any sudden movement and she’ll jump to the other side of the room in a second. It’s clear to see that she is very attached to Mark, who is an animal lover. Mark can be a little awkward around animals, but it’s clear that he enjoys them very much. I think he really wants to have his own pets. Toffee barely counts since she is practically adopted from the street, and mainly lives outside. But Mark is really happy to have her around.

London: The First Move, day 18

Day 18

Tuesday March 9, 2021

Mark:

We’re chilling at home when Sarah calls me. ‘I’m going out for a bit so if you want I can give you the keys to the apartment. But I’m leaving pretty much now. So, if you’re up for it, say 20 minutes at Tufnell Park station?’ I don’t even bother to check with Maja. I just say yes we’ll be there. I go to the kitchen to find Maja having a good chat with Cris. Apologising for interrupting, I say, ‘Maja, we have to leave right now.’ I explain what’s happening but my words clearly come out too fast because once we’re out of the house she says, ‘Where are we going?’ Oh dear. Sorry. OK. I tell her properly this time and get a much more excited response to the fact that we’re now getting keys to the apartment and are going to babysit Sarah’s two cats. Moving day will still be maybe Thursday, to be confirmed, but to be about to get the keys makes it so real because, frankly, the thought of getting this place for free has seemed a bit too good to be true, but now it’s actually happening. We get to Tufnell Park tube just two minutes before Sarah who gives us a huge greeting before handing over the keys. Then she’s gone into the night and we head off to the apartment.

We’re hanging out just chilling there a few hours later when Sarah calls. ‘Guys,’ she says, ‘I’ve decided I’m staying out tonight. Do you mind staying there and I’ll see you in the morning?’ Maja hears this, we nod to each other, then I confirm that yes, that will be alright. I hang up and then me and Maja have a moment. Oh, we think simultaneously. This is it. We’ve moved in now. Just like that, it has happened.

With that, thoughts turn to how we’re going to have dinner here, and the fact that we have to get a little something extra to mark the ocassion. We decide to order in from a local Greek restaurant which I’ll pick up while taking a detour to one of the finest wine shops in London which is right around the corner. When I leave, I can’t help but to take a celebratory sprint to the end of the street. Me and Maja are in sight of having our actual own place in almost central London. A three bedroom apartment in view of the city. And there’s no rent or deposit to pay. All we’re being asked to do is cover the bills. We’re literally on the verge of being given a free apartment, but even before it becomes our whole own apartment, we have a room. Again, for free. This is also us moving in together, and into what will be a totally musical place, just two and a half weeks after we first met at Heathrow airport.

Maja:

I can’t believe we’ve just managed to do another impossible thing. It is impossible to live rent free in London. It’s just impossible. And it seems beyond wonderful to live in this musical collective. Cheers Mark. To us and to our bright future.

London: The First Move, day 19

Day 19

Wednesday March 10, 2021

Mark:

When Sara arrives at the house this morning she’s absolutely delighted to see us there. We all live together now and we get to talking about musical plans. Sarah really wants the two of us to join her as essentially her backing band and she has big plans for us to really go to town on rehearsals now we’re all in the same space 24/7. There’s talk of reshaping the main living room area into a studio/workspace, but that will come later once we’ve got the apartment into a bit more order. To this she says, ‘Guys, this is your place. I’m not going to be staying here much longer so whatever you want to do, just do it. Treat it as your own home because it is.’ While we will be working together, hopefully a lot, Sarah’s fast moving on with her plans to be moving on and out of London. And with that, she gives us an even bigger surprise than she gave us last night when we discovered we’d accidentally moved in. She wants us to have her room. ‘It makes sense,’ she says. ‘I won’t be living here much and you guys will, and eventually the whole place will fully become yours anyway, so we might as well get that started now.’ Anyway, she reasons, we’re two people and she’s just one so it makes sense that we have the big double room and she moves herself into the single room. No, we were not expecting this at all. I’ve long known the single room was for storage of things for her friends and was not to be touched. There is another large room in the house at the front looking out over the street and we assumed that was where we would be calling our own. But no. The whole place is to get an overhaul and we’re to play a big part in that. And all while staying in the big double bedroom which actually has a view of parts of central London. Very much a partial view, obscured as it is by the local rooftops, but our very own central London view nonetheless.

To make this all happen, there is a hell of a lot to do so we do the only thing there is to be done. We get started. This new place is a 15 to 20 minute walk from the house we’re leaving. So, while Maja cleans and organises, I get busy with making shuttle walks between the two places carrying all our stuff. This is, indeed, moving day.

Maja:

Under the bed are a couple of drawers in which mens clothes are stashed. I carefully place them in a box for the cupboard as I ask Sarah, ‘Who do these belong to?’ She explains that they belong to some TV celebrity that apparently everyone knows the name of, but I, a Swede, have never heard of. I’m not sure if it’s a good or bad thing not knowing, but the bed I sleep in is the very same bed a famous person has regularly slept in. And I now know where his ties are. If you happen to be the celebrity in question and you’re reading this and want them back, I put them in the cupboard above the plates close to the ceiling. I’m sure you know where that is.

Mark:

Once we’ve got to what we can call a conclusion for the day, we settle in at the window and pour ourselves a massively earned Orange GnT. We have to do that in our room because from being really the party animal, even in our rehearsals, Sarah has very recently decided she doesn’t drink anymore so would like to not have the temptation, but she’s been emphatic that we shouldn’t let that stop us, as long as we keep it to our room please. No problem at all. And well, with a view like that as well to share between just the two of us, that’s actually just fine. More and more this is all getting too good to be true.

Maja gives actual action to that thought as she tells me she’s going to continue paying rent on the room in the house we’ve just left. ‘Incase things burn here.’ Why should they burn, I think. I respect the decision and don’t say anything, but really, why should they? This is a beautiful situation with the beautiful soul of Sarah and us two. What could possibly go wrong? But yeah sure. Nothing wrong with having a little back-up plan.

Maja:

As we finally lie down, we’re in a celebratory mood. We live here now. Sarah has settled down in her room and now this is the first night for all three of us to be here. Mark quickly falls asleep next to me and I remain awake for a while, reflecting upon the weirdness of all the things that have been happening lately. My former life and my future life. I’m getting sleepier and sleepier. I’m close to really dropping off when I notice a strange sound. It’s coming from down the hall. From Sarah’s room. I quietly sneak out of bed and peek into her room. Next to her is an enormous speaker, but it is way too far away for me to dare to go in and turn it off or down. So I sneak back into bed and try to accustom myself to the new sounds I’m going to have to listen to tonight. ‘Aaauuuumm, aaauuuummm, ching, aauuuum’. Some kind of meditative chanting. I hate these kinds of sounds. I find them terribly unnerving. As the tracks continue on I realise that I’m stuck in an infinite playlist of Youtube hell. 

Mark:

We won’t find out what this all is until morning, but what’s happened is that Sara’s fallen asleep listening to something soothing on Youtube. Whatever that was has finished and now the continuation playlist has been activated. Either the video she was listening to was very quiet, or the next one was very loud. In any case, what’s happening now is that the whole apartment is filled with eerie, extremely unnerving Gregorian chanting. It feels like we are inside and living the soundtrack to a horror movie. We’re totally encased in it and sleep is impossible. It goes on and on and we have no idea what to do. We don’t want to intrude on Sarah’s room and turn it off or down. Instead, we comfort each other and endure in varying levels of desperation and exasperation. This goes on until about 8am when it suddenly gets turned off with Sarah waking to do so. We still don’t intrude. Instead, relief and benign gratitude washing over us, we go to sleep. But it’s somewhat of a qualified relief because we’re left thinking if this kind of thing is normal around here and something we’re going to have to live with. I feel our first little chat approaching. We have to know what the hell all that was about.

When we’re all up and about and I bring it up with Sarah, she says, ‘Oh, if that ever happens just go in and turn it off. I just fall asleep and never know what’s going to come up next.’ Oh. That was easy. A horrible, horrible and very unsettling night, especially given it was the first one, but really, we can leave it there.

London: The First Move, days 20 and 21

Day 20

Thursday March 11, 2021

Mark:

New Bass Day for Maja and she’s totally thrilled with it. A Washburn, the exact same model as mine, but a different colour and just a few ever so slightly different specs, but essentially the same bass. And it plays wonderfully. It’s ridiculous to think two new, high end basses were sent back to the shop in disgrace, while this second hand number has turned up, costing about a quarter of the price of either of them, and is just out of the box brilliant.

As Maja’s joyfully contemplating and trying out her new acquisition, for some reason I decide to look at the serial number of my bass, something I’ve never done before. I am stunned beyond to discover that the first five numbers of it are 92102. Maja’s birthday: 1992, October 2nd. Even Sarah, with all her tuned in spirituality and encouraging words that the two of us are meant to be, is struck into total silence by this revelation. 

After all this, me and Maja have a few drinks then, at 1am, we decide to go out to the local town of Archway and continue out there. We fill a backpack with selected bottles and cups and take off. It’s in some state of enthusiastic exuberance that we bounce along the road, coming across a shop protected with a purple shutter and adorned with stylish graffiti. Maja is wearing a purple raincoat. It is far too good an opportunity to pass down. The resulting photographs are every bit as spectacular as we hoped they would be.

We continue right to the end of the high street. There, opposite the tube, we find a late night kebab takeaway place. Across the road from that is a very attractive and socially laid out group of benches. Just perfect for a party of two. 

Day 21

Friday March 12, 2021

Mark:

Another trip to Camden Market. This really is becoming a thing and that’s the main item on the agenda today, alongside the continuing huge job of cleanup and organisation of the room and apartment with Sarah enthusiastically joining in. She really is going for it now, saying that she expects us to be there for anything up to five years as she keeps going on her travels. She says once again that she’s only ever considered this a temporary base anyway and had long been looking for someone who could come and take the place over, but no-one she knew quite fit what she was looking for. Then Maja came along, the two of us needed a place, and Sarah saw a perfect fit in all directions. And now here we are. I told Maja things happened in London, but within less than three weeks of arriving here, she’s landed a relationship, what looks like being the beginnings of a full time band with one of the most connected people in town – I’m talking about Sarah here – and a free apartment. By any standards, this is just ridiculous. 

As for all the other stuff, this time I really have solved it by not thinking about it. I’m kinda walking around in a daze of denial and delusion that somehow, magically, the obstacles in front of us will just fall away. After all, we’ve just landed a free apartment. Surely the rest of the stuff will take care of itself as well. Yep. OK Mark. You just keep telling yourself that. But really, I think I’ve boiled it down to, you’re OK today and that’s about it. It comes down to that. One day at a time, so today is just today.

On a little wander out to the shop today I bump into Rafael, who lives above my bar. He says he saw us make all our trips the other day and says I should have asked him to help, as he has a big work van. I knew this, I just didn’t want to ask. ‘You idiot,’ he says. ‘Ask next time, please.’ I don’t know whether to thank him or apologise. He seems almost hurt. I promise I’ll ask if there ever is a next time. Of course there won’t be, but why hurt his feelings further?

London: The First Move, day 22

Day 22

Saturday March 13, 2021

Mark:

Our first 13th of the month. Do bad things happen on days of 13? I don’t even believe that Friday stuff, but I can’t help but have a little muse first thing this morning.

If anything, today is a bit of a lucky day. It’s the first day we feel really in any way settled in our new place. All the moving has been done and a bit part of what we think is the first really big part of organisation and cleaning. Sarah’s never really seen this as a permanent place for her, so it’s fair to say maintenance hasn’t quite been top of the agenda so we’ve had it at the top of ours. But today, for the first time, we feel like we have something of our own space. Our idea is to just take that absolute relief at having landed somewhere and do very little. Maybe a little bass and music practice, but very much as and when the time and mood takes us. If we’re to be totally honest with ourselves and you, we fully intend to spend today doing absolutely nothing but chilling and thinking nice things.

With those thoughts and our very newly discovered domestic wonderfulness, we settle down for a simple lunch of soup and bread using the desk just outside the kitchen and next to the bathroom as we haven’t quite got round to fixing proper dining arrangements in here yet. But it all still feels fantastic. It’s a beautiful practically central London day and the vibe is untouchable. What could possibly go wrong?

There’s a little sudden furry flurry of excitement as Sarah comes running through to retrieve Ron, her younger cat who has just run into the bathroom. When that happens, it can only mean one thing. Ron has gone under the bathtub. It’s a frustrating process for Sarah to have to get him out and once she does, she says that the cat is possibly just feeling a little unsettled at having new people in the place. She often seeks refuge under the bathtub, Sarah explains, but she’s apparently been doing it a little more than usual lately. 

So Sarah says that it would be good if we could be extra vigilant for now and leave the bathroom door closed at all times. At least just for now until Ron settles down and hopefully starts to feel a little more comfortable with us. No problem. With that, Sarah goes back into the bathroom, emerges a few minutes later, and then leaves, without closing the door. Well, why should she automatically think that? It’s a brand new thing, right? I kinda notice the door’s been left open but I don’t really think too much of it. I’ll close it. Yes I will. In a minute. In a minute, I’ll get up and close it. No, really, I will. About two minutes later, Ron comes running back towards us and goes, yep, you’ve guessed it, into the bathroom.

Balls. I knew I should have shut that door already. I really don’t want Sarah to know the door’s already been left open long enough for the cat to get back in there. And kinda on our (my) watch. Alright, it wasn’t me who left it open, but I’ve been here with an open door all this time. All two minutes of it, at least a minute of which the door should have been shut. I know Sarah wouldn’t be too mad at this having happened so soon after it became a brand new thing. She might make a little thing of it like, ‘Guys, what did we all just agree?’ and fair enough. But I’d rather avoid even that, just deal with this quietly and quickly, and then make sure we don’t forget again. 

So I go into the bathroom, and there Ron is, faithfully under the bathtub, just two red eyes hovering and staring at me with benign malevolence in the darkness. Yes, she has red eyes. The eyes of the other one are yellow. That’s how you tell these two almost identical white cats apart. I reach in with my hand trying not to scare her, but still trying to make her uncomfortable enough to run out. With my own cat Toffee, who I’ve now sadly left behind with Jenn at the old house, the faintest of movement inside a hiding place is enough to have her scurrying out in fright. Ron is clearly made of sterner stuff and knows she’s perfectly safe in there thankyou very much. I reach further and further in, but she just isn’t having it. She’s now gone deep and I’m almost lying on my belly trying to reach in. There’s a bunch of semi damp rags under here and, as I reach for Ron with my left and arm, reaching round a bathtub support to do so, I inadvertently move the rags away with my elbow. I’ll worry about that later. I should be worried about that now. Very worried. 

Seeing something I haven’t, and very much realising something quite significant has happened that I have no clue of, Ron suddenly makes a dart for it. Great. She’s decided to come out. She disappears behind the support I was just reaching around and that’s it. She doesn’t emerge from behind the support. She just disappears. Down, it seemed like. Did I see that? Did she just suddenly lurch downwards? Surely not. It happened so quickly it doesn’t seem possible. Still not massively overly concerned, I peer in, up to and around the support pole. There’s no cat. She’s simply ceased to be. Just like that. Oh no no no no no. In a split second I realise what’s just happened and how and why. Those rags. They were stuffed into a hole in the floor. That cat, well, she’s gone through it. And is now, very most likely, on her way into the depths of this building. It’s one or two hundred years old and has been knocked all different kinds of ways into different apartments over a substantial amount of years. The walls and floors in between are nothing but impenetrable labyrinths, unseen by human eyes in generations. And I’ve just seen Sarah’s cat, no, I’ve just helped send Sarah’s cat, jump into that black void from which escape or retrieval may well be impossible. Did I mention today was the 13th? Oh balls.

There’s nothing for it now but to tell Sarah as soon as possible what’s happened. When I tell her, the look of shock and panic on her face is total. I don’t know it yet, but this has long been one of her worst fears and now it’s happened. Not yet having really taken it in and not yet fully ready to be rational either, she refuses to believe I didn’t do anything intentionally. I of course had no idea the rags hid a hole but, at this immediately early stage, she’s somewhat hysterical and convinced I pulled them out myself, exposing the hole and allowing the cat to go through it. She does the hand thing and says she can’t talk to me now but I’m not leaving it like this and insist that she believes my truth. Once she’s had a frantic look under the bath for herself, she sees how this actually happened. At the same time I’m also telling her I’m sorry but I didn’t want her to know the door had been left open just two minutes after a very specific conversation about keeping it closed at all times. This is all happening so quickly and is so bewildering. Less than five minutes ago all was bliss and fluff. And now we’re in this total chaos and rage panic. With that in mind I don’t add that it was Sarah herself who really left the door open almost the instant she’d insisted on keeping it closed. Somehow I really don’t think that would help matters right now. Having composed herself a little, but still very clearly shaken, Sarah tells us that this happened to another cat in here five or six years ago. She says that he was gone for two weeks and came back black. ‘That’s hundreds of years of tunnels and who knows what down there,’ she says. Yeah. The reality of that is starting to hit both myself and Maja. ‘Guys,’ she says sadly, pleadingly. ‘Please, you can’t be here right now. I think it’s more likely Ron will come back if it’s just me here. Can you just go to your room.’ Still totally stunned by this wrecking ball that’s crashed into our world, we comply without thought or hesitation. But as soon as we’re there, we look at each other with a realisation which I give voice to. ‘We’ve just been sent to our room.’ Maja nods sadly. ‘This is really not good,’ I continue. ‘That cat could actually die. It might already be dead.’ I’m thinking of so many scenarios right now, some of which I mention, others I don’t. She might never be able to find her way out and could starve to death in there with no-one even knowing. Essentially an indoor cat, she could possibly find her way outside. If she does that, she’ll have little to no idea of how to behave in this car filled central London area. If she survives that gauntlet, I don’t see how she finds her way back to the apartment. Even if she does somehow find her way back, it’s not like she’s going to buzz the downstairs intercom. She has no idea what number apartment she lives in. No. Sarah’s baby, the so-called light of her life, is gone. Disappeared, dead, or at serious risk of death, or with little chance of finding her way back if she somehow doesn’t get/ hasn’t already been killed. I might as well say it now. It will be me that will have killed/ lost her. Happy Saturday 13th.

Where the hell do we go from this? My first thought is that we’re going to be needing Maja’s insurance policy already. After just four days. How can we carry on living here if the cat doesn’t come back? I don’t see how it could be possible. But even if she does come back, that might not be until tomorrow. Or two days, three days, a week, more. How tense will the atmosphere be like in here all that time? No. I just don’t see it.

It’s with all those thoughts swirling round my head that Sarah comes knocking, enters the room and says, ‘Guys, I don’t want you drinking in here anymore. I just don’t.’ Then she leaves. That does it for me. It might seem trivial, but if she’d said at the outset no drinking in the place at all, fine. We could have taken or left it, and we would have taken it. But to let us in and impose a rule like that now, after one incident, I’m really not happy about that. Apart from anything else, what house rule is she going to spring on us next? And after that? My immediate thought is that I suddenly don’t want to live here anymore and I say so. Let’s just move back to the house, however horrible that might be. At least it would be our horrible. Maja says we shouldn’t make any decisions like that in the heat of this moment and she’s totally right. Above everything, we just have to get out to clear our minds for a bit and make sense of all this. Sarah couldn’t agree more that we shouldn’t be here right now. But before we leave, she makes a point of telling us that she’s spoken to a good friend and neighbour about this and has come to realise that it wasn’t my fault at all, that she should have told us about the hole being there, and she totally accepts I exposed it completely accidentally. She also apologises for coming slamming down on the non drinking rule, saying, ‘I’m sorry, I was just lashing out and looking for things to blame, but this is your place and of course you can do what you want.’ Lovely to hear and an equilibrium of sorts has returned. But none of that changes the fact that Ron is still gone and probably not coming back. We wish her luck and leave.

Out on the street, Maja says, ‘Wow. Our first crisis.’ Yes, no other way to put it. It very much is. We walk slowly to Hampstead Heath, all the while trying to take it in but we just can’t. I just say over and over again, ‘I’ve killed her cat.’ I don’t see any way back from this. We talk about the prospect of moving back to the house, which would mean moving back in to live with Jenn which Maja is not keen on at all. The two of them did not speak a word to each other all the time Maja was there and she does not want to return to that atmosphere. Option two is staying where we are and dealing with whatever fall-out that entails. Not a good secondary option at all. We really, truly, do not know what to do about this. The one thing we’re lucky about, Ha! Lucky?, is that the weather is nice. This is Corona, lockdown London. Once you leave the house, you’re outside and that’s it. If it was raining or cold, there would be nowhere to go and have a sit-down in. No cafe, bar or library. Nothing. We probably would have ended up riding the bus or tube just to get out of the weather, but thankfully we don’t have to think about that. Instead, we have the wonderful Hampstead Heath to roam about on. I’ve never enjoyed being here less. But there’s no escape. No matter where we go, nothing can change the situation or the crisis clouds that have now gathered all around us.

We walk around like this for four hours, never quite leaving our dazed, bewildered, slightly scared state. It’s around the four hour mark that Maja says, ‘I think it’s time to go home.’ Home? I suppose it is, but for how long? With foreboding, we make our way back, each step taking us closer to whatever the hell we’re going to find upon opening the door. We arrive at the street and I pull Maja back for a few pep talk words. ‘We’re about to walk into the fire,’ I say. ‘We go in there together, and face whatever we come up against together.’ She nods with defiance. We’re going to front up to this and we’re going to do it now. We pause for a few seconds to individually steel ourselves and then turn and deliberately walk towards a world of doubt, confusion and possible retribution. Chaos, grief, anger? We have no idea what we’ll be met with. But we’re about to put ourselves right in the middle of it all and accept whatever comes our way and whatever that could mean. Our minds are blank. We have no idea of any of this so can’t even see a way to the immediate future, that future being just seconds away and behind one single door. We enter the apartment block and walk up the stairs, heads held high but stomachs brought to a ridiculous low. This is climbing over the top of the trenches territory. We’re in no-man’s land now and any moment the machine guns are going to open up. Will we make it through? At the front door I turn the key and look at Maja. ‘This is it. Let’s go.’

We enter the apartment and it explodes.

‘Guys, guys, did you get my message?’ We didn’t but this is not at all what we expected. Sarah’s happy, jubilant even, that we’re back. She runs out of the main room and calls to us from the end of the corridor. ‘She came back. She came back.’ She’s almost crying with relief as she says the words. ‘Half an hour ago. I sent you a message to tell you. Oh I love you guys. You must have really been through it.’ Oh, we have. Her relief shoots through us like a wave of lasers and we run to her to be enveloped in the hugest of group hugs. Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow. It’s over, it’s over.’ From what we can gather, and no-one can be really certain anyway, Ron never went very far into the hole and so the nightmare scenario of her becoming irretrievably lost in the labyrinth of Victorian architecture never happened. And when she was ready, she just jumped back out again and into the arms of a disbelieving, hysterically jubilant Sarah who is now full of joy and how wonderful she thinks the two of us are all over again. In short, it’s like the whole episode of horribleness ever happened. But me and Maja look at each other and we know. We’ve been seriously tested today. We’ve stared at the fire, held hands and walked, together, right into it. And here we are on the other side. All happy again and harmony in the apartment once more restored. Oh, and while we were out, Sarah and a friend did the underside of the bath and plugged the hole up properly with tiles. So, no more hole, and no more mystery damp rags under the bath hiding a mystery in the hope no-one would one day push them aside while a cat was under there.

London: The First Move, days 24 and 25

Day 24

Monday March 15, 2021

Mark:

Sarah doesn’t have a fridge. She’s vegan and doesn’t use conventional milk so doesn’t really have things around that can go off. Cooking, for her, is mostly a big pan of vegetables and beans and things that just sits there on the stove for whenever she wants it. She’s shared it with us, and told us to help ourselves to it whenever we want, and it really is very good. In fact, this is kind of how the whole experience here is developing. Food is just there for anyone to help themselves to whenever they want. Actually, just about anything is. It really is developing into a kind of communal living right down to the three of us all now feeling comfortable enough to walk round the place naked at times. This very much is not the conventional house sharing situation. Even down to just pretty much wandering into each others’ bedrooms for casual chats. Privacy is very much respected, but if we’re in the ordinary run of the day, whatever passes for ordinary around here, it’s totally fine to wander into any room at any time with or without clothes on.

Fridge. Oh yes. I was talking about the fridge, or non existence of one. Well, me and Maja have decided we would very much like the existence of one. In London, many people, if they can help it, don’t throw anything away. All kinds of items either get put out on the street for people to come and help themselves, even sometimes with electrical items having helpful labels like, ‘This works,’ stuck to them. When we were arranging our room here, there was a big black, kinda broken couch in it that didn’t quite fit the room or anywhere else in the apartment so we put it out on the street. The next day it was gone. A ridiculous amount of furniture and kitchenware in our old house came from the street. Apart from street donating and scavenging, there are also websites where people will post stuff for sale, or also often for free if you can pick it up. I’ve registered with one of these to see what we can get, and yes, I did do it with the hope of seeing a free fridge. That crazy idea stops being crazy today when we do indeed see a free fridge on offer. We make the call and it’s still available and we can pick it up tomorrow.

Day 25

Tuesday March 16, 2021

Mark:

The lady who has the fridge is called Marcella and she lives in Holloway, two to three kilometres away from us. We’ve talked about hiring a car for the job, but I have another ridiculous idea which is that we can take the trolley I’ve used to carry amps all over London in what now feels like another life, and put a fridge on it and wheel it all the way back home. Will this work? I have no idea. We’ve decided to get there, see if the trolley thing works, and if it doesn’t, see what we can to sort out some kind of hired transport from there. We’ve figured that even if we pay up to 50 quid or more for a hire car, or man with a van or whatever, it will still be a lot cheaper than buying a new fridge, which is what we’re basically getting here for free. 

We get to Marcella’s house and she’s delighted to see us, to see that the fridge is going to some people who need and will really appreciate it. We’re also helping her out because she had no idea how to dispose of a fridge. Why it’s being disposed of we don’t quite get to the bottom of, but that’s none of our business. Marcella is lovely and wants to give this thing to us, well, somebody but that somebody has turned out to be us, and we are gratefully receiving. But this is not a little thing. It’s a full on fridge freezer, one of those things that’s taller than the average person. Incredibly, we discover the trolley can take it. Which means that now we’re about to set off and wheel a person sized fridge through a few London neighbourhoods and down Holloway High Street, all the way back home. This means going very slowly with me pushing the thing, totally blind to where I’m going while Maja walks in front, gently guiding me left and right as obstacles appear. The most notable of these is a full sheltered bus stop full of people right in the middle of a London high street that we slowly, and quite literally, have to negotiate our way through. Oh, for a photograph of that. Then, when we do finally make it all the way home, we have to carry it up two flights of stairs. Oh, that is fun. Then, once in the apartment – what a lovely triumphant moment that is – it’s back on the trolley with it for the final leg of wheeling it into the main room to place it lovingly in the corner where it quietly and joyously hums away. Sarah can’t believe it when she comes home and marvels at our resourcefulness, effort and determination at even being able to find such a thing in the first place, and then the sheer force and energy required to get it all the way here. The next day, in something of a celebration, I write a set of lyrics commemorating the event, called Marcella’s Fridge. I really hope we can do something with it one day.

And this really is what we do now. Live life and write about it. In here and in our songs. Or, at least in our lyrics which we fully intend to turn into songs when we finally get the time and space to sit down and really look at full on songwriting. We keep thinking we’re going to get to that, but then something else happens that demands our attention. Songwriting. It really is the thing that happens when you have nothing else to do. For whatever reason that is. Yes, I know, there is the avoidance issue that even some of the most successful have. Sting says he avoids it like the plague and even Paul Simon says it’s never fun. For us, at least as far as lyrics are concerned, we write write write all the time. We’ve taken the David Bowie approach of just writing everything down. All of us, we’re surrounded and blessed by genius. We just don’t write it down enough. Think about it. You don’t sit down at your kitchen table and think, ‘I’m going to think of something devastatingly funny now.’ No. It just happens when you’re with your friends. The same goes for genius observations, and just comments in general. And of course it’s not just what you say, but what your friends say and also what you overhear in the world around you. All. The. Time. But it all gets lost to the ether. Well, we’re going round and trying to gather some of that ether up. Or at least catch it before it becomes so. For this, we have pens scattered all around the apartment and we take notebooks everywhere we go. A conversation on a bus, a daytrip, and chance encounter, an image of London. It all goes in. And what doesn’t I know will stay with us to emerge at some later time. This has led to some bizarre situations. Meeting friends in the street while one of us is walking along head deep in a notebook writing. And in supermarkets while one of us has continued shopping while the other stands deep in thought in the middle of an aisle. Clean up in aisle five? For us it’s write up in aisle six. Just a few sheets of paper and our writing sticks. It’s all we need. Never in my life have I seen notebooks fill up with lyrics as fast as ours have been in the past three weeks or so.

But here’s the other thing. As a songwriter past, I have written plenty of lyrics as pieces on their own, with a thought to using them later but very very few of those pieces see the light of day as actual songs. By this I don’t mean that I don’t try. I do, it’s just that while I usually think it will be an easy, almost lazy thing to do to just put some chord together and sing what I’ve written over them, I almost always end up writing whole new lyrics to what I’m coming up with melodically and rhythmically. But it’s still great of course to have all these lyrics as a resource, and just great that we’re writing full stop. Even the concepts of them, and individual lines, of which I’m certain there are many great ones. Which is another thing. Apart from whole sets of lyrics in those books, we also have individual lines from things we’ve said or heard, and sometimes simply just concepts. As for what we’ll end up doing with them, who knows what Maja’s approach to actual songwriting will be when we get there? And I’m sure I can have a go at some of these, or maybe at least be able to incorporate what we have. But even then, I do write a song and come up with a whole new set of lyrics, well, the well will have been left untouched and its levels will remain constant. Absolutely no harm there.

Maja:

We’re finally off for a little outing. Since it’s deep into covid times, London is in lockdown and meeting people is not really that common. You can’t really go into a bar or anything, so we decide to meet up in Camden and have a couple of beers by the riverside. It’s fun to get to meet Matt, he is a very lively person with a ton of positive energy bottled up in his chest. As we stand in the winter cold, cheeks bitten by the wind, I get to hear a ton of lovely stories. About a city that was once alive. A town that was bursting with musicians, tourists, and the people that used to make out the, until recently, music capital of the world. The city I missed. And my heart hurts knowing it will never be the same again, so I will never get to experience it. The before Brexit and before Covid London. 

But I am happy to hear the stories from the people who were there. By the musicians that made up the tourist attractions that people would travel to see. To hear about playing at the Blues Kitchen, Ain’t Nothin’ But… and of course the 100 hour jam. Who gets to hear that? 

That’s what I think while I let these talkative guys go on and on. Sipping my drink. Enjoying the atmosphere. Of the empty canal next to Camden Market. Where it’s never empty.

London: The First Move, day 26

Day 26

Wednesday March 17, 2021

Maja:

I’m woken up by Sarah entering our room in some state of lovely excitement, bringing me a present. When she woke up that morning, she was a bit chilly, so she got dressed in a jumper. That jumper is an official Gorillaz jumper from their tour a couple of years ago, which lead singer Damon Albarn personally gave out to only musicians and crew. The character on the jumper is Murdoc, the Gorillaz bassist. I’m beyond happy about it. What a way to wake up. 

Gorillaz is the band I’ve been listening to the most this last year, so it’s very fitting. And of course, Murdoc. The bassist. Of course, I play the bass, and Mark is my bass mentor, so what could be more fitting?

Mark:

After a wonderful morning, we’re hit again by reality in the evening as we sit down to really go through visa possibilities for Maja so that she can stay in London. All it pulls up is despair, despair, and despair. The two options we seem to have are by marriage, or something called the global talent plan. We spend three hours forensically going through both, and whenever we feel we can overcome one obstacle in the scores of requirements, we come to another which cannot possibly be met. The whole thing is just looking totally impossible. In fact, we conclude that both routes are deliberately written to set people up to fail. One piece of information in particular that keeps coming up is the need for a sponsor, with no clue at all as to what would constitute as a sponsor, no matter how much we research it.

The marriage road looks like this. 

Maja has a six month visa as it stands right now. She has been here just about a month.

We discover you have to formally announce an intention to marry, and then can’t get married for at least 70 days after that. If we do this tomorrow, that would take us more than three months into the six. But you also have to have a venue booked so even in this hypothetical scenario, that will probably not happen tomorrow. Especially not when you throw Corona regulations into the mix.

Once married, you can apply. 

The application process takes up to two months to receive a reply. That’s five months right there. Oh, and before any of this can even begin, Maja first needs to get a divorce which also has to go through the courts which will take at least another month. If it begins today, which it won’t. So there’s your six months. Minimum. And it’s not even a given that a visa would be granted on those grounds even if we managed to jump through all the hoops and tick all the boxes within the available time.

In a moment of clarity, we decide to solve the Visa problem by deciding we’re not going to depend on it. We’re going to do this by simply not living in the UK. With that we start to look at countries where it’s easier for Europeans to go and live. This leads us to seriously consider a few countries in Asia, South America, to be left for us to look at more closely another day.  

As we’re discuss this and I’m considering an option or two, Maja suddenly stops me cold. ‘Oh, I have an idea,’ she says breathlessly, wild excitement in her eyes. Oh wow. This sounds like it could be something. I exit my train of thought instantly. We’re in a desperate state here and her entire expectant face tells me she’s just about to unleash the magic thunderball that will blast the whole thing wide open. I take a mental step back to allow full space for whatever she is about to say to wash and crash right into. She hits me with it. ‘Will you go traveling in a camper van with me.’ Wow. I didn’t see that coming. But I don’t hesitate. ‘Yes.’ ‘Wow,’ she giggles. ‘That’s a bigger commitment than agreeing to get married.’ Yeah. I guess it really is.

Maja:

I’ve been thinking about camper vans for a long time. As a way to travel around and still keeping my life with me. So why not now? Mark can be in Europe for 180 days a year and I can be in UK for 180 days as well. So we can travel and live that way together. We just can’t work that way, but that is a different problem. Maybe we can solve that in some other way. Only this way, we can stay together. I hope. That’s really everything that matters to me right now.

Mark:

Instantly this has become our fallback option and we’ve now decided not to let the visa thing stress us out at all. If it happens it happens. And even if some circumstances arise which miraculously facilitate a visa solution, we might just follow through with all this anyway. Because, as we talk more and more about it, the whole thing starts to make more and more sense. Almost seamlessly the conversation coalesces into an actual plan for what we really want to do now and what we are now going to do – write songs, tour internationally with them, and write about it.

So far since we met we’ve spoken about kids and marriage. We’ve moved house together. And now we’re committing ourselves to working together as internationally touring, diary writing musicians and songwriters. Can I please remind you, we first physically met less than four weeks ago.

London, The First Move, day 27

Day 27

Thursday March 18, 2021

Mark:

We tend not to talk about Sarah related stuff in the apartment, good or bad. Today while we’re out and about, we agree that while we love the touring idea, we’re not just going to look at upping and leaving as soon as we can. We’ve been given this opportunity of our own apartment based on Sarah needing someone in it and to take off anytime in the next few weeks would be a bit of a betrayal of that. And besides, should the visa situation be sorted, it would be no hardship to stay here in London for a while. I kinda had the same thoughts when I first came to London with that office job Paul had got for me while I was still living in Madrid. The boss there really came through, giving me the job on Paul’s say so and on the strength of a one minute phone conversation with me. Although I was itching to dive into London’s music scene and really start my journey there, I decided to commit to that job for at least six months, maybe even a year, and maybe gently work myself into music at the same time. As it happened of course, it all fell apart after just two weeks which blew all my good will apart. As a friend said at the time, when the hurricane was still at its fiercest, that was the best thing that could have happened to me as it left me free to follow my London path. I had already begun to harbour such thoughts myself and did my best to agree, but damn it was hard to do so.

Maja:

So if I’m going to stay in London, I need a visa. And our lovely friend Sarah is very well connected so she decides to help me have a look at that. First things first, she asks me to write up a CV so she can send that to her lawyer friend so he can have a look on how to make this happen. I do and she has a look and she’s mighty impressed. She discovers now that I’m an engineer and not some kind of damsel in distress that she had imagined. She still sends it off to see if I could get a visa in some kind of way, but the reality is like this, I could get a visa. A working visa. 

So why don’t I just do that then? Honest answer, I am not ready to do that. I am going through a divorce and that has put tremendous pressure on me, so I don’t feel like I could do that right now. 

I might do that later, but also, if you take that route you get stuck in the same job with a lot of terms, and I might want to reduce the amount of time I work to get more time doing the things I value in life such as doing music. And with a working visa I would get stuck in the same squirrel wheel everyone is in, and I am right now dying to get out of. 

I might want to take a freelancing job for some money, or work half time or something else, but I don’t want to commit to working full time right now. I just can’t commit to that.

So for now, I continue to look for a situation to coexist with Mark. And Sarah, with her newfound knowledge of me not being a damsel in distress as she previously thought, is starting to change her attitude about me… 

Mark:

Sarah’s met a guy around the local area called Dee. She had him round the apartment a few days ago for a bit of a social and really liked his vibe and where he seemed to be going musically. He’s into production and rap and she thinks he could be a good fit for us, whatever ‘us’ means. So we settle on a rough rehearsal time – all times are rough around here, and around 6pm, all four of us are in the main room and ready to see what kinds of sounds we can make. Me and Maja have been rehearsing a little by this point and have worked out something of a system for jamming and this is our first chance to try it out. It works quite well and there really is something of a special vibe with the two of us playing together. Bass is all about feel, and that’s exactly what we’re talking about here. We settle on something simple with Maja playing single, steady root notes and me playing grooves and solos over them. Well, I’ve never had such a feeling playing over such a simple beat. All the emotion is in those single notes and I’m able to feed of that and produce some really great feeling grooves that have Dee moving all over the place and singing and rapping like it’s the most effortless thing in the world. This feeds back into what we’re doing and we hit a new level, which Dee takes up to move himself even more and so the cycle goes. As it builds and builds, Sarah starts to sing as well, so we have the two of them really going for it as me and Maja keep things burning here, with Maja holding the full bottom rhythm as I play off the two singers while keeping the groove going for them at the same time. As this continues, as the dual basses pump and rumble, the dancing starts and we feel the start of something really special coming together. We jam through a few more bits and pieces for twenty minutes or so and then stop to collect our thoughts. Sarah has seen enough. ‘This is serious,’ she declares. ‘The power and vibe of the four personalities in this room is just huge. This is on. We all look at each other and agree. Myself, Maja and Sarah already feel like we have a massive collective personality, like we could take on anything and Dee has just come and fitted right into that, while adding a whole new dimension of positivity. Apart from anything else, he loves the vibes and positivity given off by me and Maja, loves the whole feel of the two of us playing bass, and, as a particular fan of bass, really likes the way I play individually. There’s so much more that can be tried as well. This really looks set. ‘Guys, we’re doing this,’ says Sarah. Twice a week, maybe three times a week, in here for two hours at a time, no messing about. Yeah?’ We all look at each other and smile. Yes, it’s on. This is happening. On top of everything else, Maja is now in a band. But there’s more. A member of an international chart topping band has expressed an interest in joining us. But not just that. This is someone from one of Maja’s favourite bands. Sarah tells us about this, but warns us that if it happens, this person might well try to take it over as their project. We look at each other again. No. This is ours. Don’t care who it is, no thanks. Maja leads the charge on this. So now, not only is she in her first London band, she’s now also turned down the opportunity of working with someone from one of her favourite bands. This is all getting a bit surreal.

London: The First Move, days 28 and 30

Day 28

Friday March 19, 2021

Late morning and we hear strange voices in the apartment. We don’t bother to go and see who it is, or what’s going on, but we don’t need to. After about ten minutes, we hear whoever it is leave, and then Sarah comes into our room, barely able to hold onto herself through the tears of laughter. ‘Guys, you’re not going to believe this,’ she says. ‘The neighbours downstairs have just had their ceiling fall in. It has to be because of the bass frequencies and the dancing from last night. We might just have to tone it down a little.

Day 30

Sunday, March 21, 2021

Maja:

I am new in England. I’ve never been to England before and in England they have their dishes they are very proud of. Such as the English roast dinner. So as a welcome, Sarah decides to cook one for us. Sarah loves to cook, but recently she hasn’t had that many reasons to cook living alone and being a vegetarian. So she offers to cook us dinner, a wonderful pork roast with crackling and roast goose fat potatoes. Brilliant, thankyou very much. 

Me and Mark go about our day, having a lovely walk, writing some lyrics, and time flies. As we return home Sarah greets us with the most lovely roast dinner, and it is amazing. Absolutely brilliant. Roast pork with a thick layer of crackling. Yorkshire puddings. The most amazing roast goose fat potatoes cooked from scratch, golden and crispy on the outside with the softest inside you can imagine of a potato. Of course served with roasted veggies and gravy. 

I would have loved to have share this meal with all three of us, but Sarah says that she’s so happy to have made it but would never eat something like this. But that we should enjoy it. So she leaves the apartment to hang with one of her guys and we are left alone. With this feast. It’s one of the best meals I’ve ever had. Me and Mark enjoy it fully and after we put things away, we go to sleep. Blissfully unaware of what will happen next.

When Sarah comes home, she can’t resist having some of those incredible duck fat roast potatoes that she had made, and it just doesn’t sit right with her. They just don’t fit with her new strict healthy living regime so she decides to fast for three days straight to set things right for herself. Not long before we came here, she’d also decided to stop smoking. Other things have gone too, and all good, but now on top of that she’s having a three day fast. It’s just too much. She is trying too hard. This just does something to her personality, making her fragile and unpredictable and ready to pick any argument even if you’re agreeing with her. There will still be moments of fun and togetherness, but all punctuated by too many down moments. This quickly marks the beginning of the end for us here, and no matter how much we try, things will never really be quite the same again.

London: The First Move, day 31

Day 31

Monday March 22, 2021

Mark:

The Lord Palmerston sends out a group message, through my friend and assistant manager Duran, to ask when we’ll be available to be back. I answer I’ll be ready as soon as needed. This is the first sign that the furlough, which I’ve been on since mid December, and which even made this thing with Maja possible in the first place, could be coming to an end but there’s no indication of when that could actually happen which would be nice to know. Alright, it’s supremely frustrating not knowing but I suspect even the company doesn’t know exact details yet so I’ll just have to leave it for now.

There’s more frustration as Sarah tells us we can’t shower anymore as water is now dripping into the apartment downstairs following the ceiling collapse. We have no idea what is going on structurally, but there are some large holes in our bathroom walls, and it seems drops of water are going through them, collecting then dripping downstairs. We are told we have to have just baths from now on. Bugger. Far from ideal, but we’ll have a go.

Maja:

We try to have a bath while Sarah is out. Sorry for not being more grateful with the whole free rent thing, but it’s the most disgusting bath ever. There’s mould everywhere, and you have to sit in the tub trying to get clean. After getting up from the bath the water is black with mould and dirt. It’s making me sick. And apparently I’m not allowed to do anything about this situation. 

Mark:

It could just be that the bath has been filled up to and kinda past the overflow and maybe that’s not the best idea as it seems that’s where everything comes from, and I’m sure Sarah doesn’t have baths in this black stuff so maybe we’ve done something wrong. But no. Not ideal.

The London Diary: The First Move, day 32

Day 32

Tuesday March 23, 2021

Mark:

Wow. There have been a few brief re-openings of the bars but today incredibly marks the one year anniversary of the announcement of the first lockdown in the UK and here we still are. But it’s also fun(?) to note that yesterday was the day we got the message that we would be opening up again, again. 

Meanwhile, our daily experience really is going up and down. It goes up this morning as Sarah stakes another claim for best housemate in the world by bringing us breakfast in bed this morning. And I mean the full real deal. Bacon, duck eggs, toast, tomatoes, and beans. And of course, obligatory by law when providing an English breakfast, steaming cups of tea which keep coming as required. 

We get all that down us, chill a little while longer then, with the apartment’s milk supplied depleted courtesy of Sarah’s breakfast teas, pop across the road to pick up some more milk. Almond milk, mind. It’s really lovely and sunny and we are very well fortified so we feel like staying out and getting a bus into town. So, back at the apartment building, Maja waits outside while I run the milk upstairs. We’re just going to get the first bus that comes along.

Here it is and we see it takes us to Victoria, which means I get to surprise Maja with a walk down what looks like a nondescript street along a mysterious barbed wire topped wall. What’s behind that wall? She discovers when we round a corner and there it is. Buckingham Palace. A walk from there, then up the mall to Trafalgar Square and once there, we simply have to go round that corner to give Maja her first look at The Marquis, sadly closed, but there it is. Also round this area, Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus up a little to Carnaby street and then a general walk around. A few hours of this and we’re almost done, but then just as we’re thinking about taking a bus back home, we come across Fortnum and Mason. Means nothing to Maja, but I’ve never been in here and I really think we should, so we do. What we find is the most spectacular food and drink shop, complete with its spiral staircase going down to the most colourful fruit and veg display I’ve ever seen. Through all this we find the whiskey and brandy section and we simply have to have a look through all that. This is kind of like a mini Harrods. Like a Harrods but just a big food and drinks shop which happens to have a bottle of brandy that goes for 23 thousand quid. Shop assistant Andrew takes us through their ranges with Maja really keen on finding a good peaty whiskey. She settles on a high range bottle of Ardbeg which you would definitely not find in your average supermarket. After this, it’s onto the cheese section where she finds a perfect Gruyere to accompany a bottle of red wine sometime. 

Then it’s onto a sunny bus home. This really feels like the first day in a long time where there have been no events to bring us down at all. Everything is just fine and stress free and here we are having a lovely walk round Londontown. 

The London Diary: The First Move, day 33

Day 33

Wednesday March 24

Mark:

Sarah continues the breakfast theme and wakes us this morning with toast and tea. We will really have to be careful to not get too used to this.

She tells us she’s decided that if we can patch the shower up so that it definitely, definitely does not drip anywhere, we can use it. This is something of a relief so we get to work. We go out to the local hardware store and buy what we think we need to do a patch up job. With different types of cut out parts of bin bags and shopping bags and a lot of tape, we fix the holes around the bath where water has been leaking through. It isn’t pretty but it sure looks effective. It looks like we’re back on.

Maja:

Well. As long as I don’t do anything permanent I should be able to find a way of making the shower usable again. So I drag Mark to the hardware store. I’m going to fix this. I’m not allowed to actually fix the cracks with grout – that has to be done by the council that refuses to come – so I’ll have to find a solution that works without doing anything permanent. 

I pick up three of the cheapest available shower curtains, and some tape. With which I fully waterproof the bathtub area so you can shower. As I finish, it is once more usable, and no water will fall on the floor and drip to the neighbours. This is a big accomplishment for me. Only one thing. The bathroom is left looking like one of those rooms that people use for murders in horror movies. 

Mark:

Through this job we’ve discovered a couple more things that we could get on with. One of them is to maybe replace the lino in the bathroom. This seems like quite a big change so I think it’s prudent to ask Sarah if it would be OK. She’s almost offended by the question. In a weary tone, bizarrely managing to snap at the same time, she says, ‘Mark, I’ve told you. This is your place. Do what you want. I couldn’t care less what you do. Stop asking.’ Despite the tone, I guess there’s a kind of love in that response.

We haven’t heard at all from Sarah’s lawyer friend, but she says he can be a bit like that and not to worry about it. Then, standing in the centre of the main room, she says, ‘Hang on a minute.’ She closes her eyes, goes into deep concentration mode and faces her head towards the ceiling. When she opens them again, she looks at us with total confidence and says, ‘I just asked my guys and got the answer back. You two will be fine. Maja isn’t going anywhere.’ Two words. O and K. When I speak to Maja about this later, she rationalises it, saying that what Sarah is actually doing is concentrating and going on gut feeling and claiming, or actually believing, that that is coming from some other place to give her a message. 

Since it was declared that we would rehearse two or three times a week, no messing, we haven’t yet managed one follow up. There’s an attempt at it tonight with a rehearsal declared, but with no explanation, we later learn it’s been cancelled. Oh well. We take the opportunity to instead take a bottle of red wine up to Hampstead Heath to sit on our favourite bench on the top of Parliament Hill and look down on the beautiful and spectacular city centre view with some Gruyere as a perfect accompaniment. A wonderful escape from what is increasingly feeling like a chaotic, ever changing and unpredictable lifestyle. Oh yeah. Dee apparently lives with us now. We’ve not been working with him so much but he has been spending more and more time here. That was cool, but then today Sarah announced that he’s moved in. Fine. We guess. Whatever she keeps telling us, it is of course her place and she can do what she wants with it, but what’s happened to the thing where she was never going to be here and it was to be our place to do what we wanted and then she was going long term travelling and leaving it all to us? This is increasingly looking like not being a thing. She hasn’t even been away once yet. Instead, what we’ve experienced is being told a whole bunch of times that she had plans to go away, then those dates have come and gone and have been completely unobserved with no mention of any kinds of plans or cancellations. Again, totally her prerogative of course, but it is all a little strange, slightly unnerving, and starting to veer ever so slightly off course from the brochure message we received at the start of all this.

The London Diary: The First Move, day 34

Day 34

Thursday March 25

Oh dear. Sarah’s on the unpredictable path again. She comes into our room today, pretty much unannounced – fair enough; that’s how it goes in this communal, walking round the apartment, into each others’ rooms naked, food sharing thing we have going now. But it’s far from a friendly visit. Out of nowhere she says she doesn’t want to work with us anymore. The reason? We read her some of our lyrics yesterday and she’s latched onto one line, totally misunderstood it and put her own interpretation on it. She’s saying that it was our subconscious way of telling her we didn’t want to work with her so she’s deciding now that we won’t. Er, what?

The offending line is. ‘With others it’s not the same.’ This is a line comparing our relationship with the way we, or most people, are with other people; external stimuli are usually required to hang out – TV, drinking, music, video/boardgames, sport, whatever. We’re saying in that song, and it’s quite clear, that for me and Maja to hang out with each other, we often require absolutely no external stimuli or diversions. Remember that first five days? The two of us and the ceiling. No TV, music, reading or alcohol. Nothing. There’s no-one either of us has ever spent time with that way. With others it’s not the same. Most people need activities to do when they hang out. Even the best of friends. We often don’t. With others it’s not the same. Without even talking to us about this, Sarah has decided it means that we work well when it’s just the two of us, but when others become involved it’s not the same. Meaning, in her world, we think that when she’s involved it’s not the same. Who would deliver a message like that in such a subliminal way and expect it to be understood? This is totally twisting words we’ve actually written down and read to her. This is not the last time she will get angry with us for something we may or may not have been thinking. The difference is that this time we’re able to persuade her that she’s got it all wrong. She eventually leaves the room having been convinced of that, saying she loves working with us and hopes it continues and continues. Well, that’s what she’s saying now. But working with us? We’ve done one 20 minute rehearsal and had every other rehearsal since then cancelled. But at least we’ve averted a bad atmosphere. For now.

Maja:

An artist comes over to leave some art supplies and Mark says hello. I spend the time singing. Afterwards, we talk a bit more to Sarah, who has been talking to a female friend of hers who is currently living in Scotland. This friend wants to live in London and Sarah says she’s offered her a room here so she will probably move in with us. So now, from being offered our own apartment, it’s gone to Dee has moved in – although we’ve yet to fully see evidence of that – to someone else might be moving in. At this rate, even if Sarah ever does go away saying it’s ‘our’ place, at any given time we feel there could be a knock on the door and it could be someone we don’t know saying they live here now.

We feel a little unsettled about all this, but are still resolved to make the most of the opportunity. We go back to our room and decide to practice some easy singing. This is where Mark puts on some music, plays along to it on the bass and I sing along to what’s playing. First we go for a couple of Jack Johnsson songs, then we try Laleh which Mark totally doesn’t get, then we go for RHCP. I’m used to singing RHCP, so when I do that, I can finally get some power in my voice and it feels more like it used to. We’re trying to make out some parts of Californication and feeling pretty good about it when Sarah comes into our room, saying she wants to film this great vibe we have going. But all we’re doing is singing along to famous songs. This really isn’t something we want recorded and put out there. This is also totally destroying the flow we’d got into. But OK. Mark decides to go for what she wants and says A1 – we’ve developed a few shorthand codes for playing together. A1 is a particular type of simple groove that I play and then he solos over it. So I have to grab my bass, tune up and find a groove. It doesn’t go well and it completely breaks our flow. I end up just playing A. Mark tries to solo over it, but his concentration after having his own momentum broken as well isn’t quite having it. We both feel pressured and frustrated over the situation and we have to tell Sarah it just isn’t happening and to please not use whatever she’s just recorded. She says, ‘No problem. Deleted.’ Great. Then we try to get back to what we were doing before she barged in, but with the frustration in the air, it just isn’t happening. We look at each other with a sigh and just know. So we stop, take a shower, and go on a walk just to refresh our minds. It’s lovely outside, but with the frustration in the air, it just doesn’t feel nice. All we can think is that we had finally started doing something and it felt good, and then that feeling just got stolen from us. And put onto virtual videotape. That, along with everything having changed from what we were originally told when we first moved in, has really taken the shine off the whole thing. Exactly where is this all going?

The London Diary: The First Move, days 35 and 36

Day 35

Friday March 26, 2021

Mark:

Early today we go out on another of what Maja calls our panic walks, or at least crisis walks, as we continue to take in the thought of yet another person being offered a room here in what we were promised was going to be our own place. What is going on? We were told that this would be ours. Fine, Sarah can do what she wants with her own home, we totally get that. But please don’t promise something that isn’t going to be delivered. Rent and deposit free? Damn yes. That was unbelievable enough. With that, we would have completely accepted that other people would be around as well. But that’s not how it was sold. We were told she would be travelling and we would have it all to ourselves. For years, she’s even said on a few occasions. 

This is all starting to feel like it’s kind of falling apart around us. No, we definitely did not sign up for this.

Downstairs is leaking again. What we did should have been good enough, and Sarah thought it was, and even agrees that it looked like we’d blocked all the possible leaks. But there’s so much going on with these walls it was clearly impossible to catch them all. She requests we stop using the shower again. With that bath we had the other day, just not happening. We will sort this. There has to be a way. Maja comes up with it as she has the idea to first buy more shower curtains. We do that, and then return to put them up around the whole inner bath area. So now we really have created a fully sealed, totally unleakable shower. A skeptical Sarah comes to have a look and loves it, which is a big relief because it’s one thing not being able to shower, a whole other thing to think of the prospect of that bath we had the other day.

The fact that we have a shower again feels like something of a new start. Our space isn’t quite as much our own as we thought it would be but it could yet get there. However, our time is our own. With that we come to a conclusion and make a decision. We decide to cancel time. No more clocks. We’ve realised we really don’t need them.

Day 36

Saturday March 27, 2021

Mark:

This cancelling time thing is seriously cool. We really are going about our day with absolutely no idea what time it is, which is incredibly liberating, if a little frustrating when you inadvertently catch sight of a clock – which makes the big one in the main room a tad inconvenient. I’ve been on furlough for a while now, on and off but even so, and have generally got up when awake, slept when ready to sleep, and ate when hungry so time hasn’t been a massive factor in my life for quite a while. But now, we really are working to the rhythm of our own clocks with no idea even of how long we’re doing a particular activity. It should be acknowledged right now that this whole thing is made easier, or even possible, by the fact that we’re very central within London; just about all public transport, apart from the latest or earliest of hours, comes within ten minutes, usually within five, so there’s no need to check or observe timetables. Even night buses can be as little as 15 to 20 minutes apart, especially when you’re looking to get back to Camden from Trafalgar Square. Easy.

Well, it is all easy until Sarah knocks on our door at 1am and says, ‘You guys have cancelled time and that’s all really cute and fun and all that, but the people downstairs haven’t. Did you know it’s one O’Clock? And you really are being a bit too loud.’ Oh sorry, we really didn’t have any idea. OK. Fair enough.

We might have to think a bit more about how to do this. We conclude that if it’s light we can assume we can be as loud as we want, but if it’s dark maybe be a bit more mindful.

The London Diary: The First Move, day 37

Day 37

Sunday March 28, 2021


I made a full English breakfast for me and Maja yesterday while Sarah danced and sang in the main room. This will be the backdrop to the greatest disaster in the apartment yet.

First, Sarah’s been doing a lot of dancing and singing in the apartment lately. Brilliant. It’s added a greatly energetic vibe and we’re very happy to be living within it, even on a day like yesterday when she dominated the main room with it. Great. Go for it. We’ll stay out of your way and do our thing, inspired by your thing. And it really has worked so much the other way with Sarah saying we have inspired and lifted her mood so much just by being here and by being us.

So yeah. Yesterday. Full English breakfast. Me and Maja eating that in our room at our window overlooking our part of central London. Just brilliant. The kitchen, as you know by now, is tiny. So Maja walked back to our room and past Sarah while I carried on in there while Sarah danced away to her music while checking out her form in the full width mirror. On the way, Sarah caught Maja’s eye through that mirror. The wrong kind of eye apparently. I’m about to find out just how wrong.

It begins to unfold first thing in the morning with a disaster we already had in waiting that we had no idea of

I’m up and going to the toilet and Sarah, all warmness and blessings, calls me in. I ask her to hang on, pay my visit, then come back and pay my visit. Sarah’s temperature has dropped about 10 degrees. She is no longer all warmness and blessings. She’s all fine with me though, she assures me. Oh yes. All fine with me. It’s Maja that’s the problem, she says. What the hell is this? ‘I received some feedback from some friends this morning about your video,’ she says. What video? What friends? ‘The one I recorded in your room a few days ago.’ Oh. OK. Not a great start. Didn’t we agree that was to be immediately deleted? Didn’t Sarah herself say it was deleted? While she was standing there holding the phone in her hand? Well apparently not only had she not deleted it, but she sent it to people. By all accounts, very influential people. Her people. That she says she’s been hoping to work with with us. Maybe even get funding from. Yeah, this has been a thing that has been mentioned a lot and I have absolutely no idea what it means. ‘They’ve come right back and asked what the hell I’m doing letting that negative energy in my house. They’ve told me I should not have that energy in my house.’ You’re talking about what exactly? I don’t say anything. Sarah calls up what she now knows as the clearly offensive video on her phone and shows it to me.

‘Look at that,’ she says, zooming in on Maja’s face – Maja, who at the time was being suddenly filmed deep in concentration and in some mild distress while she was struggling to come up with something on the spot to jam. And yes, feeling intruded on while we were very much in the middle of something. ‘Look at that scowl. That negativity. In my house. People have seen this and said this is a bad vibe that I should not be having or allowing in my own home. And do you know about yesterday morning?’ I do not know about yesterday. Yesterday Sarah danced and we had breakfast. Please tell me about yesterday. ‘It was the same again. Maja walked past me as she came through the room and looked at me in the mirror like I was some piece of dirt or something. Just a look of aggression.’ I have no idea what Sarah’s talking about and I just know that if I mention this to Maja, she will have no idea either. I’m in a state of disbelief. To deny anything would just be to admit there’s a problem. To apologise would be to admit there’s a problem. To say I’ll talk to Maja about it would be to admit there’s a problem. To tell Sarah she’s imagining it all would cause a problem. If I say nothing, I’m kind of admitting it’s a problem. I say nothing. So Sarah continues to talk, confirming that yes, there might just be a problem here. ‘Maybe living here isn’t the best thing for you guys,’ she says matter of factly and suddenly with a hint of sympathy in her voice. Maybe you’d like to think about looking for somewhere else.’ She speaks that last sentence with something approaching compassion, like she’s doing us a favour. It’s not kicking us out. It isn’t even remotely asking us to leave, but it’s the first time anything like this has been remotely suggested. And once a conversation like that has popped up, it really doesn’t go back in the box very easily. Where exactly? Wasn’t getting this place the impossible? For the first time I have the realisation that Maja was totally right to keep the rent up on her room in the house to keep it open. But surely no. We won’t be needing that. This, whatever the hell this is, can be worked out. I gently tell Sarah I don’t really understand and that I’m sure things are all good. She smiles sweetly and says, ‘I’m sure they are darling. I’m sure they are. Yeah. You go and talk to Maja.’ I’m grateful for that hint that the conversation is over and I leave Sarah’s room and head back to ours. Which, until very recently was Sarah’s. Until she gave it to us and she came into this tiny room to sleep on a mattress on the floor.

Back in bed and Maja of course wants to know what I was speaking to Sarah about. Is there a problem? Hmm. I really don’t want to cause a panic here so I say that things are fine, but there may just be something of a misconception that could be cleared up. Maja’s listening now. I tell her about the mirror incident. Get me. Incident. Damn. She’s stunned. It wasn’t something she’d even thought about. I’ve already decided I’m not going to mention the video. I think that on top of everything else, that could really cause a blow up so I’m keeping that to myself and Sarah. For now. Maja says she’ll go and talk to Sarah now about whatever this misunderstanding is. Before long, I hear them both giggling away and talking affectionately. By the time Maja returns, it’s clear that all is sweetness and light again. But for how long?

We get ready without any real hurry, then decide to go out for the day. We have no particular destination in mind, just catch the first bus that comes along. We take that bus to Kings Cross and then just get the first bus we see from there. Which goes to Elephant And Castle, quite a long way south of the river. Us north Londoners don’t cross the river too often – the South Bank doesn’t count – so this is a rare excursion into unknown territory. It’s just cool to be out and to take in some different streets and scenery. That area also boast the Imperial War Museum. It’s closed, of course, but the out front display is still there – an enormous double field gun, which we take time to marvel at.

After a few aimless wandering hours, we see a bus heading to central London so hop on that. From Trafalgar Square we walk all the way back home, but when we arrive at our street we just don’t feel like going in. So we carry on walking and end up going all the way to Holloway, where we continue walking aimlessly until eventually we see a bus coming towards us and heading to our area. Yeah. It’s time to go back. We’ve walked over 11 miles today.

The London Diary: The First Move, days 40 and 41

Day 40

Wednesday March 31, 2021

Mark:

A reminder incase it’s needed, that with all bars in the UK being shut due to Covid, I’ve been on furlough from the bar since late December and so all the time Maja’s been here. And my furlough pay has been generous enough so I’ve been quite comfortable. Today I discover I’ll be starting back at the bar on April 11. This happens in the form of a text message for us to check the rota. I go and see mine and it covers two weeks of around 30 hours a week. When I tell Maja this she just goes quiet. I go and make a cup of tea, and when I come back I encounter a very pensive looking Maja. Something is clearly up. I don’t even ask, I know she’ll start talking when she’s ready. When she does, I’m totally stunned.

‘I don’t want you to go back to the bar,’ she says. What? How the hell is that supposed to happen? She reads my unspoken question and continues. ‘I have enough money for both of us to get by for a considerable amount of time.’ How long, she doesn’t exactly know but says that can be worked out. But she’s done the emotional maths, saying that whatever the hourly rate of the bar is, she’d feel much more value in that time if it was dedicated to her, to us and to what we’re working towards. As long as I’m not here, whatever I might be contributing financially, I won’t contributing in time. And time I can spend here, she’s decided, is worth so much more than whatever bar company economics has decided my time is worth there.

She really doesn’t like the idea of me being away for whole days or evenings, and is doubtful of how much time, focus and energy I’ll be able to bring to our projects when I’m not working. She’s done the equations and feels they really don’t add up. I start to speak, but she asks me to please not allow pride to come into it. ‘I know you feel it’s important for you to pay your way,’ she says, ‘But you will be. In the way I’ve just described. And I know you want this too. Please don’t fight it and just say yes.’ What can I do? I’ll see what I can do. But really, this is huge. Enormous. Game changing. And an unbelievable show of faith in my abilities and simply a show of faith in us. Apart from anything else, I’ve just been asked to quit the day job to concentrate full time on music, and been told the resources are there for me to do that. And also to spend this time with, and working with, the girl I love. But more. It’s all but been demanded – in the very best usage of the word – that I do exactly that. Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? And so so much more that I could never have thought of. I mean, there’s a beautiful, practically identically minded bass playing girl in the equation as well.

Day 41

Thursday April 1, 2021

As yesterday’s chat settles, a budget gets done today and we estimate we can last 10 months with nothing else coming in. However, if and when the live music scene picks up again, with the reopening of the bars, Mark can be available for any gigs there. We have something of a plan, and it involves making what we do, whatever that really is, our full time job. Our life. Our everything. From now.

The London Diary: The First Move, day 42

Day 42

Friday April 2, 2021

Me and Maja are aware that, as bad as the past year or so has been for society, we have all that and the subsequent lockdowns to thank for everything. I totally get that’s a controversial view given the pain, suffering and just pure inconvenience that has been caused everywhere, but really, it breathed us into being and has continued to breathe us to be. It was Covid and the resulting furlough from barworld which gave me pretty much 24/7 availability. And it’s this availability that allowed me to be there on the phone whenever Maja needed me while she was still in Sweden. And then I was able to continue to be around all the time when she got here. If I hadn’t been so available, our initial phone chats would never have the happened in the way they did, and I probably would never have even got to the part where I said ‘You could come here,’ let alone be in a position to deliver on the kind of support she needed in making such a move, both in the week before, and in the weeks after.

But as the resurgence of Covid has given, so its apparent regression always threatened to take at least a little away; our time together, doing what we want at any time of any day, has often felt like a bit of an illusion with a call for me to back to work and day to day reality always hanging in the background as an inevitability. Now that call has come, Maja has instead decided to turn the illusion into our reality.

When I tell Sarah of what we’ve spoken about and that I’m going in today to quit the bar job, she’s ecstatic and full of admiration for us taking this momentous step.

After being frustratingly unable to yesterday, I get hold of Moni, the bar manager, today, and arrange a meeting of just the two of us for this afternoon in which I will announce I’m leaving. Moni’s massively intrigued as to what I could have to say. I have a thought, which I have of course shared with Maja, that I will be asked and expected to honour the posted two week rota, although I also expect I will be given the opportunity to cover myself for as much of it as possible. Which means that any arranged cover will have to be organised by myself. So, my rota, my business. Do the hours or get them covered. However, as mine is a supervisory role, I can’t just blanket offer my hours out to anyone, it has to be a bit more considered than that, so not quite as straight forward as it might seem. I sit down with Moni in the bar and drop her my bombshell news, telling her about myself and Maja in the process, what comes back is exactly as I described above. What also comes back is a lot of happy thoughts from Moni about what’s happened and how things have panned out. And now Moni even goes a little further, as she offers to cover some of my more managerial type duties if I can get suitable people to fill the rest of those days. This gives me much more leeway, so as I said the other day, I’ll see what I can do. I think this arrangement will see me doing about half of what I currently had. But who knows? I might yet cover the whole thing. And it’s not like I have the deadline of April 11 to do this; any day after that could be covered a day or two before, so even if April 11 turns up and I still have a full complement, so much could yet change. 

I also say that, although I’ll be leaving, Moni can leave me on the rota if she wants, to call on me should I be needed in a real pinch. She really appreciates that but fast forward a few days later she tells me she’s checked this out with the higher-ups and I actually have to formally resign. This is because if I’m kept on the rota but not working, I’ll continue to receive furlough payments and the company has decided that is just not on. I hadn’t thought of that. Fair enough.

Once all the practical details have been covered, me and Moni continue to have a lovely personal chat as I fill her in with more details of what’s brought all this about, and I leave with her very best thoughts. Time to go home and tell Maja about all this. The process of me leaving barworld has begun.

Maja is delighted to hear me declare: ‘I just quit the bar job.’ Then of course I have to fill her in on how it’s actually going to happen. But no matter. It’s done, and I’ll take the days off I manage to fill and happily do the days I don’t. But when it comes down to it, I do genuinely enjoy bar work and have grown to love and feel a great deal of pride in the Palmerston, so I really do want to do a few more days in there. It would actually have been a little bit sad if it had just ended without ending. I’ve spoken many time the previous Diaries about the benefits of bar work to a musician trying to get on the ladder while still needing a regular settled income, and the Palmerston, and Moni, really have fit into that model of giving me enough hours to get by while totally respecting my need for flexibility regarding gigs.

But with today’s chat done, what we’re doing has now become truly real; there’s always been that reality check that all our time to ourselves is a Covid/ furlough granted illusion with the call of the bar and the real world there in the background. But once this next period is done it will no longer be an illusion. Our time really will be our own. But with that, we’ll have the responsibility of making it work. Which means financially. What we’re doing, at some point, has to become viable and self sustaining.

So, with me fresh from the bar talk, me and Maja have our first business meeting. Which is planning for how to really decide exactly what our thing is and how to monetise it.

What we do very much conclude is that, while we have to fully acknowledge that Brexit is not very helpful for us and accept the reality, we will not be restricted by it. If we have to get round the new visa situation, we will. We’re just not sure what that means yet. 

Apart from that, it’s acknowledging that, with our songwriting and diary writing in tandem, we have a music and writing career now. Which means we have to work out a way to really practically go forwards with it. Basically, how do we generate income and make all this actually real? First, we know that this will be no quick fix. But what we can do right now is come up with an actual plan of where we want to get as a first base and set ourselves in motion to achieving that.

The plan looks like this. 

Maja to complete Maja’s Diary – and me to edit it for English, and then get it on a public forum.

The same for Mark’s Diaries, although mine already have their public forum but they still need to be finished as we begin the process to merge what we do as we go forward with one joint diary.

Related to the above, we have to decide on what actual day The Diaries will begin. Will our own prospective stories end on the same day? How will they physically merge? We’re really almost there with how this will happen but not fully decided. There’s time for that. As long as we know it’s on the think about list.

As for the music side of things. we’ll need to get at least three full original songs ready for the package

Then there’s the thought of the presentation of our own, as yet untitled diaries. Whether this will be with a synopsis with teasers, extracts, we have no idea. But something to give it a good presentation within the package.

The presentation part of it will be incorporated in our website, which we will clearly need. Again, we’re not too heavy on the details of either just yet. But really, the overall idea is to present the three or four songs we will have, then both diaries, especially the parts where they start to merge towards the ends, then our joint diary. 

We don’t really come up with a truly solid idea yet of how this all gets monetised.

We both bring different things to the table in how to hopefully develop all this. I have my media background and network of London music contacts, while Maja of course has her vast knowledge of the internet and how to really utilise that

We may choose to look at agents or other kinds of companies for gigs, beyond what could generate ourselves, and then there’s how to get this thing into an actual book form. No idea how we want to do that, but it’s now on the table as a tangible goal to aim towards. 

Our professional flow of obligations now looks like this

Play music and write songs

Which creates opportunities to 

Have interesting experiences and live life

Which creates material to

Write diary

Monetise this. Somehow. Gigging and publishing are the main ballparks we’re aiming towards but really, the bottom line is generating the raw material, the bedrock of which will be our songwriting and performing. Without our own music to back up what we’re doing, which also has to viably appeal to an audience, there is no story and therefore no project. We absolutely must write songs and perform them well.

Within that, we have to develop our feel for playing together and really, to reconnect with our own instruments and musicality which have both been greatly neglected for the better part of two months. We decide to ease into this by identifying songs that are in our ballpark in terms of playing and singing. Oasis is high on the list for that, along with Kate Bush and Red Hot Chilli Peppers. 

That’s it. We have our plan. Where to go, what we need, how to do it, and what to do about it all right now.

All this new reality is coming at a very opportune time; just as we’re taking this time as our own, to develop as we decide, for the first time, we’re about to have the apartment to ourselves for a whole weekend. Sarah is off on a walk of spiritual discovery, from Salisbury to Stonehenge. As me and Maja conclude our first business meeting, Sarah returns to the apartment from her latest errand just in time to pack and go. While she’s doing this, she breaks away for a few minutes, curious to see how my thing went earlier on. She’s beyond thrilled when I tell her. This is it. The end of barworld is in sight. ‘Oh, I’m so proud of you guys,’ she says. ‘You’re taking your destiny and making it your own. You can’t ever do more than that.’ ‘And if I ever need to go back to the bar, the manager said I can call and…’ Sarah cuts me off. ‘Don’t even think about that. You’ve made your decision now and done something about it. Only be thinking about moving forwards now, not backwards.’ So that’s her position pretty clear. And yes, she’s right. If you’ve got a safety net you’ll be tempted to use it. She finishes saying, ‘Guys, as I go off on my spiritual journey, I love what you’re doing. And taking this huge step and commitment towards it is just so inspiring.’

After this brief chat, there’s just time for time for a group hug while she congratulates us again, and we wish her all the best for her odyssey. I think the feeling between the three of us right now is the best it’s ever been and we wish her nothing but wonderful vibes for her trip. Then she’s gone and the apartment suddenly falls silent as this scene of hopeful jubilation hangs in the air. It’s now Friday afternoon. Until sometime Monday, this place is ours.

Maja marks the occasion by claiming full rights to the kitchen and making lasagne. Cue Liam. I’ll pick you up at half past three/ We’ll have lasagne – Digsy’s Dinner incase the reference is totally lost on you.

I must have the official record reflect that that lasagne is great. 

The London Diary: The First Move, day 43

Day 43

Saturday April 3, 2021

We wake to an apartment in which we are alone and really take it in. Sarah has stressed over and over again that this is our home and that we should do with it as we please. Things have even calmed down with talk of different people moving in. Dee certainly hasn’t for some reason, and the general feeling has veered towards Sarah deciding she wants to come good with her promise after all. Now, it feels like this weekend is a bit of a dress rehearsal for when the place actually becomes ours. After a wonderfully relaxing morning, me and Maja settle into our room and into our large corner window overlooking the city. Sunlight is streaming in, creating the most spectacular workspace. It is here now that we will create, write and rehearse. We also plan to supplement that by taking ourselves over various parts of London, and indeed the wider country, to do the same. We get to it now. A lovely joint writing session as we remind each other of the details and minutiae of various events, and then a really chilled little rehearsal as we continue to shake off the cobwebs of singing and playing. Yes. This is how it was supposed to be. Panic walks are a thing of the past. We’re on our way now. This feeling of liberation greatly inspires our thoughts as we exchange messages with Sarah throughout the weekend, both voice and text messages. We have our thing going on, and she’s on her wonderful, liberating spiritual walk. The connections and good wishes between us are at an all time high. We love encouraging her to keep going and she loves every idea and any random thought that emanates from either of us.

It’s in this spirit of getting things organised that Maja decides it’s time to rearrange the narrow hallway so we get on it. This includes sorting through the rack of clothes we’re brushing past all the time and moving the rearranged and tidied rack into the mostly unused front room. Surveying the finished results, we think Sarah will be delighted.

The London Diary: The First Move, day 44

Day 44

Sunday April 4, 2021

We have to re-engage with time today because we have plans with Cris, and Maja’s going to have her first London car outing. This is a trip to Crystal Palace with two friends of Cris who I also have a great relationship with – Rob and Jade. Crystal Palace is an area in south east London named after an actual crystal palace that was almost unimaginably large when it was constructed in 1851. However, all we have of it now is ruins as it was destroyed by fire in 1936. Instead, we have the site markings along with a few surviving steel supports and ornate stone staircases which mark where the entrances were. And all around it, a large and beautiful park which is our destination for today.

We meet Cris at a nearby street to be picked up in his oversized and very comfortable car which is practically a van, and this drive takes us through some of the most exclusive areas of London and eventually – an hour and a half eventually, I had no idea – to Crystal Palace where we meet Rob and Jade. This is a little of an emotional reunion for me as I last saw them around 18 months ago when we all used to work together on building sites that Cris was in charge of. In that little period when I was so busy with bass gigs I had to quit my evening bar job and go get something in the day so that I could be available for the relentless schedule of rehearsing and gigging with five different acts, one of them the metal band Wild Child, fronted by Cris. So the four of us know each other quite well, and into this comes London newbie Maja who is warmly welcomed and embraced by Rob and Jade. Indeed, as the day progresses, I find myself more and more walking with Cris and Rob while the two girls walk a few paces behind us engrossed in conversation like old friends.

We meet by a housing estate in our respective cars, and then drive onto the site itself. As we start to walk through it I suddenly realise I am in a serious memory lane. I had totally forgotten about this. I used to come here every week in a whole other life. My second job in journalism was as the main writer and editor of the centre pages entertainment supplement for a series of 11 weekly local newspapers all around south east London. I was the goalkeeper of the paper’s five a side football team and we played in a league right here. As we walk across a high walkway, on our left we have the site of the football pitches we came to every week. I stop, caught in feelings of totally unexpected nostalgia and remember those days. Everybody else stops too and we hang out here in the sun for a while, while making tentative plans and fetching ice creams from a nearby shop. Below us is an interesting site and cool addition for the day. Remote control car racing round a mini formula 1 type track and it’s clear these guys are serious and really know what they’re doing. We watch this, enthralled, for something like half an hour, then we continue onwards.

After a while of walking through the grounds, at times in open, cultivated fields, at others through dense, enchanting forest, we come across a large open air street market. It has so many stalls selling food from all over the world and, as disparate as our group of five is, we’re practically guaranteed to find exactly what each of us wants in a place like that. So we go in and go food hunting, meeting up again on a hill overlooking the whole place.

Fed, watered, and all content again, we set off for another meander and wander, this time heading towards the ruins of the palace, where we can truly see and appreciate the dimensions of what this thing was. It’s a slow, summery, lazy walk and once through the grounds we make our way back to the cars to say goodbye and head on home. But Cris has one more thing on his mind as we set off. There’s a route we can take that will see us go past the site where Marc Bolan was killed in a car crash. It has become a shrine to his memory, visited by people from all over the world. Now it is about to receive another international delegation from Italy, Sweden and England. 

All through today, and over the weekend we’ve had a voice message thing going back and forth between ourselves and Sarah, including during our little excursion today. Relations between us have never felt so good and it’s really cool to be able to encourage her along in what she’s doing, and to hear how she’s getting on. Along with the bar decision, us finally being able to get our freedom and time to do what we really should be doing and jumping into that, everything feels like it’s really slotting into place after a very difficult and stressful period. Of course we don’t expect the difficulties or stresses to stop and other tests no doubt await us, but it truly truly feels like we’ve found some blue sky and green grass to rest and work in. And, with Sarah’s love, support and hope, along with her beautiful chaos, we have constant inspiration and motivation.

The London Diary: The First Move, day 45

Day 45

Monday April 5, 2021

Mark:

Late morning, early morning, we have no idea. We’re back to cancelling time again. But somewhere in there we go out house shopping and buy a few bits and pieces that Sarah has been really wishing she had. Like a really cool set of knives that the kitchen desperately needs, and all in their own knife block. We also buy household items like washing powder and cat food. We’ve really got into that; as we’re paying no rent, only covering bills, we’ve been buying more and more things for the house to help out with this as much as we can. And we love buying things for Sarah, like these knives which we’re thrilled to have found. We were hoping to get out and back before she returned, but she beats us to it. Just. We’re about 10 minutes away when we get a lovely voice message that she’s returned, had an amazing trip that she can’t wait to tell us all about, and that she just loves the changes and improvements we’ve made to the apartment while she’s been away. We’ve been doing little things almost constantly, often with Sarah helping as well. But I guess when you’ve been away for a few days, little changes each day add up and become even bigger, even more visible changes.

We enter the apartment, all proud with our purchases and eager to hear from Sarah and to show her the latest few goodies we’ve found. I go to the bedroom to get a few things put away and organised and Maja goes through to the kitchen. When I leave the bedroom to go and join them down the hallway, I immediately sense that things are not right. No. Things are very wrong. There is no joyous laughter, only quiet protestations of innocence from Maja. What the hell is going on? I walk down the hallway and hear Sarah saying, ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me but I was brought up to not do things like this. It’s just not something I would do. If you were brought up different, I’m sorry about that. I don’t know. Maybe this thing just isn’t supposed to work out. I don’t know how you guys feel.’  Maja looks down the hallway and catches my eye. She looks bewildered. I speed up my walk and get in there as quickly as I can to lend my support and find out just what this could possibly be about.

It’s the rack of clothes that we went through, tidied and moved. For all the talk that this is our place, we can do what we want with it, to the point of being agitated when I checked a few times if we could do this or that, Sarah is now furious that we took her at her word and went and did this thing unsolicited. Yes, right to the point where she says, yet again, that things might not be working out. Here we go again.

It’s fair to say that as soon as this conversation is over we leave the apartment for yet another panic walk. But there is something different about this one. Now we think we really should leave. In the past, especially in the early days of all this, we spoke about not letting Sarah down and taking off on our travels if we thought we were in a position to do so. There’s no talk of letting her down anymore. If anything, we’re feeling let down. Massively. Things are really starting to feel fragile, like they could totally burn at any moment. We’re now talking about having to get ahead of the situation before it takes control and gets ahead of us.

Well, we were already thinking about going off and touring or at least starting somewhere else abroad, although we had no idea where that would be. We decide the time has come to start doing something about that. Why leave here, go to another house in London, and plan to go abroad from there? Might as well just cut out the middleman and go for it. Not to mention the difficulty of even finding another place in London in the meantime.

My first thought, I tell Maja, as we tramp these familiar streets, is that we should call Rick. We might just be able to stay at his place in Madrid. It would only be a temporary solution, but it would be a significant move and, if he’s up for it, we could do it almost immediately.

We get hold of him and he tells us the timing isn’t great so that really isn’t an option. No problem at all. Oh well. With Brexit and all that, it probably wouldn’t have been an option anyway. But with that, he jumps straight into telling us about Thailand and how that could be something for us to think about. He knows people there on the music scene and is confident we would be able to hook up with them through knowing him. One of the guys was in an earlier, Thailand version of Drunken Monkees, the band I was in with Rick in Madrid. So he would almost be a colleague. Rick is convinced we would find somewhere to stay if we told him he could make a call or two on that, and we would also have an almost instant network, or at least an instant opportunity to get in on the network. We really get into the idea of this during the walk and call, both of which go on for well over an hour, possibly reaching two.

As soon as we get back to the apartment we’re on it. I’m researching people’s experiences and seeing what steps have to be taken to go, and what to do when you arrive. In the meantime, Maja is taking care of the practical things. Less than five minutes after starting, Maja urgently asks me to take a look at what she’s found. A perfectly affordable hotel type setup with a pool right in the centre of Bangkok. Yes yes and yes. This could definitely be a place to land. It would give us a destination and, from there we could start to look for something more settled. It’s Monday now. We could get ourselves sorted here and be on our way by the weekend. She doesn’t even hesitate and immediately starts to look at flights. We are really doing this. If she can get flights sorted now, she’ll get onto the hotel online and book us in and that will be that. We’re moving to Thailand this weekend. This is really happening. But we check ourselves just a little, allowing for the reality that, with Covid still very much top of the agenda all over the world, these are not normal times and it’s not so easy to just up and leave as it might have been four or five months ago. So, while she’s planning the practicalities of the move, I’m looking at travel restrictions, both as far as the UK is concerned with being able to book foreign travel, and how policy currently is regarding Thailand.

Oh damn. Maja’s face falls with mine as I start to discover restriction after restriction. First, the UK has banned all travel. We didn’t know that. But then we look at Thailand and see they’ve banned travel from the UK. We’re already on this flow and we don’t want to stop now. So we flip ourselves on the traditional dime and start to consider other countries. Countries outside of Europe and therefore outside of the Brexit bubble. Central America, north America, Asia. We go and look at the official government websites of every country we think could work for us, and one by one they get crossed off our list of possibilities for the same reasons as Thailand. We’re seeing now that this really is not an easy fix. More than that, we just can’t see how it can be fixed at all. 

We can’t go anywhere in Europe. What we thought would be our international alternatives have all been smashed off the table. Maja’s visa for the UK will run out at some point so she won’t be able to stay here and I won’t be able to go to Sweden. And I think we can rule out help from Sarah’s lawyer friend on any of this at this point; we’ve not even had an acknowledgement of the initial email. More immediately, we were already looking for places in London before Sarah handed us what we thought was a lifeline and we know how difficult to impossible that will be. And moving back to the old place? Well, that’s a big no no no. 

We feel trapped. With that, we give up for the night. We’re exhausted and very emotional. Despite the tiredness, sleep comes hard and is uneasy.

The knife block is still unopened in our room. We’ll be keeping this for ourselves. Where it will eventually be getting unpacked, we have absolutely no idea. Has anyone seen that impossible list?

The London Diary: The First Move, day 46

Day 46

Tuesday April 6, 2021

We do not feel remotely like doing anything creative today. Even if we did, we just don’t want to be around the apartment. Sarah seems to have forgotten all about yesterday and is being very jolly and loving towards us. Her attitude seems to be, ‘I said my piece, it’s all over and we’re all good now.’ Which is great and cool that things can be said and you move on. It really helps to keep the air clear and lets everyone know where they stand. Brilliant. But this schtick is really wearing about as thin as we can take it. It’s constantly like, ‘Ignore me, it’s wonderful and I love you guys, it’s all good,’ followed by, ‘It might not be working out,’ followed by, ‘Ignore me, it’s wonderful and I love you guys, it’s all good.’ The feeling has just become, and has been for a while to be fair: When’s the next one going to happen? After every crisis, we calm down and we’re like, it’s OK. We’re good here. Everything’s actually fine. And then we catch ourselves and say something like, ‘Yes it is. Until the next time.’ As we know by now, there will always be a next time. Until, and if, Sarah comes good on her initial promise of jetting around the world and leaving the place to us. But that promise seems to have just quietly and gradually slipped away. Unless things really do calm down and we all make it to May 1, which is when she’s decided she’s going to The Congo to do humanitarian work there. Great. And yeah. That’s really going to happen. You’re going to have to let me know. Does sarcasm come across very well in black and white? I’m really not sure. But yeah. Congo. You go for it.

So we’re still a bit emotionally knocked out by yesterday and not at all feeling like doing anything creative so we push ourselves out of the place. I’ve got a little trip planned which I’ve been meaning to show Maja for a while and this is the perfect day to roll it out.

It’s a walk I would recommend to anyone visiting London and, indeed, many people who live in London because the truth is, many people who live in London don’t use London. But then, one can have some sympathy for that when you see the prices for tourist attractions. They are not priced for locals. They are priced for people who may be in London one time in their life and it’s taken for granted that they have enough money to think, screw it, I’m here once, if it costs the better part of 20 quid to go down a slide, then fine. Yes, that’s what it costs to go down the twisty slidey thing in Stratford, east London. Or the London Eye. I’d love to go on that but £33, don’t think so. I’ve been on plenty of walks round London, seen something really interesting, thought it would make a wonderful addition to the day, then discovered it cost north of 50 quid. So no. London is not made for Londoners. But this walk definitely is. 

We just take a bus into the centre and onto Tower Bridge which is a worldwide destination in itself, with the Tower of London on its north side. But we’re really here today for the southside. Apart from offering views of the other side of the river and the spectacular city buildings all the way down, this route also takes you by City Hall, then immediately past HMS Belfast, an imposing battleship moored right at the dock. Further down and you meander through an outdoor bar and street restaurant scene and right past a spectacular replica of The Golden Hinde, Sir Francis Drake’s 16th century flagship. A little further on and you’re back in time again, this time to the 17th century for a walk past the reconstruction of Shakespeare’s Globe theatre. Not far past that and you’re at Millenium Bridge, a beautiful pedestrian bridge which takes you right in the direction of St Paul’s Cathedral which sits right at the end of it. Cross that bridge and, if you want to continue east, you’re in the direction of Holborn, Soho, Covent Garden and Mayfair. But by then, you might also be a bit walked out. We go a little further, then get a bus back home. However, when we get close to home, we realise we really don’t want to go in. So we set off on another walk, this time all the way to the end of Holloway kinda like we did the other day. What we’re practicing now is home avoidance and we’re almost limping by the time a bus just happens to stop next to us at a bus stop and we decide it really is time to go home.

The London Diary: The First Move, day 47

Day 47

Wednesday April 7, 2021

Mark:

Somehow there’s still very much a sense of fun in the apartment, although I’m starting to feel it’s a bit strained. An outside observer wouldn’t have a clue though. All they’d see is Sarah and Maja being best friends, as I look on and see them merely playing at being best friends. There’s a manic energy in the place as Sarah constantly performs her new song and dance routine. She also asks me again if I’ll be ready to practice some bass with her later on. I say of course I will. I won’t. Almost everyday for around a week she’s been telling me we’ll do a rehearsal. I’ve got myself all ready for, it made sure to get back in touch with the repertoire, then it’s been cancelled, or simply just not happened. I’ve given up being prepared.

But anyway, who needs bass and vocal rehearsals when one of you could be dressing up as a giant chicken? Yep. Sarah’s chicken costume arrives in the mail today and she can’t wait to try it on. Cue more hysterical scenes of, ‘We’re all best friends here.’ Then, costume on, she decides to go one stage further. She’s going to go out to the shop. Dressed as a chicken. Of course she is. Folks, that’s how wacky and zany we are round here.

Later in the evening, things have calmed down. The fun has slowly seeped through the walls but we’re still all friends here. No hard feelings and all that. Let’s talk. Frankly.

We sit around on high stools in a triangle in the main room and it’s quickly and quietly agreed that we should move on. As and when we want to of course. No pressure. But it’s started to feel like it lately with Sarah asking us when our big move is going to happen. This has begun to feel less like friendly interest and more like a hint. She wants her apartment back. Fair enough. It’s hers and for her to do what she wants with. We tell her we’ve been looking at options and, although we could possibly just leave and go, it really doesn’t look that viable. We tell her we’ve looked at a lot of other countries and it all looks complicated due to corona. ‘Oh that’s rubbish,’ she barks back. ‘Corona’s a scam, it’s a hoax.’ You know, have that viewpoint if you want, but saying that won’t help when a borderguard is telling you you’re not coming into the country. No matter how much we try this argument, no ice gets cut with Sarah at all. ‘If you want to go somewhere, just go,’ she says, voice rising to shrill. ‘Don’t let Corona stop you. That’s pathetic.’ ‘Yeah, but try telling that to someone when…’ I give up. You can’t argue with this.

One of the things we have decided is to stay in the UK until the world is ready for travel again. The UK’s travel ban is set to be lifted on May 17. We could wait and see how the world’s changed by then. We’ve been thinking we could stay here as long as we wanted as long as it was clear we had a plan to move on when it was possible but, without saying it out loud, it’s quite clear Sarah is thinking of us being here for just another two weeks max. ‘There’s loads of places round here you could go,’ she says breezily. Hint hint. Been there, done that. There isn’t.

We finish the conversation very amiably with all best wishes raining down on us from Sarah, but we really do have to start thinking about a very real plan of moving on. And very soon. We return to our room and have a chat about things for a while. One of the topics we touch on is Brexit with Maja having suddenly developed a new curiosity of and how it works with Ireland and the border between Northern Ireland and the Republic. She starts to ask a few searching questions. ‘Ireland is in the EU, right?’ ‘Right.’ ‘And Northern Ireland is UK right?’ Right. ‘There’s no hard border between them and people from Northern Ireland can go to Ireland and live there?’ ‘Right.’ Where’s she going with this? ‘Well, Northern Ireland is UK, so if people from Northern Ireland can live there, can’t anyone from the UK do the same?’ Oh damn. Lightbulbs everywhere. Before I’ve fully realised what she’s getting at she goes right for it. ‘Couldn’t we just move to Ireland?’ I’m hit by the sudden realisation that she really might just be right. 

Right. If you’re from the UK or Ireland, or are familiar with either or both, you can probably skip this next bit or skim through it. But I know there will be readers for whom the issues and geographies of the UK and Ireland, not mention Brexit, have held little significance, so I feel some kind of potted explanation here is necessary. To be fair, Maja is still coming to terms with the fact that there are four countries in this country – England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, all centrally governed from London in the UK, but each with their own parliaments. The latter of these countries shares an island with The Republic of Ireland, from here on to be referred to as Ireland. Northern Ireland will be referred to as Northern Ireland.

When the UK left the European Union, for our purposes, we’ll say for various political reasons it was decided to keep Ireland more or less as the one trading entity it had been, and it was also declared a common travel area – CTU. This meant that the peoples of the two countries could continue to come and go without hindrance as they had before. This means that, with Northern Ireland being UK, this CTU also extended to the rest of the UK; many Irish people live and work in the UK and vice versa. And of course, we share, or at least use the same first language. OK, Ireland does have its own language, but you know what I mean. We’re starting to get a little excited now as this really begins to take shape in our minds, as I hope it is now starting to take shape in yours. We research a little deeper and come up with the answers we thought and hoped we would come up with. Maja is European. Ireland is still in the European Union. Maja can live and work there. I’m in the UK and have lost my previously easy European living and working rights but, with the CTU, I can move to, and live and work in, Ireland. Maja looks up from her latest mini research project as she realises she’s negotiated the last hurdle. ‘This is it,’ she says. ‘We can move to Ireland.’ Wow. For the first time, it feels like we might actually have reached a solution. At any rate, we said we would not be prisoners to the visa situation. We now seem to have found a way to completely break free from it.

The London Diary: The First Move, day 48

Day 48

Thursday April 8, 2021

Mark:

Sarah comes into our room this morning as we’re waking up and all’s nice and chilled with a lovely morning vibe. Almost like we’ve all got our apartment mojo back. Full of fun, she tells us a little story about herself. One of those little self deprecating tales of comical disaster. Towards the end of it, mid laugh, her face suddenly turns to stone. She looks at me and says, ‘Stop thinking that.’ What the hell am I supposed to say to that? ‘I’ve got powers,’ she says. ‘I know what you’re thinking and you can stop it right now.’ Oh dear. This is not good. Yes ladies and gentlemen. We have reached that stage. The one where you don’t even have to say anything anymore. We are now actually being accused of thinking the wrong things. It’s kind of an irrelevance, but I really wasn’t thinking anything. Just enjoying the story. I guess that’s what you get these days if you happen to catch Sarah’s eye the wrong way, kinda like Maja did the other morning. If you’re now being accused of thinking something you may not be thinking, on top of almost everything you say – even totally positive stuff – being twisted into being something you didn’t at all mean, any kind of communication becomes impossible. All I can do now, as I lie in bed and she stands over us, is wait out this horrible misconceived, awkward misunderstanding and hope she eventually gives up and goes away.

We realise now that this particular mindset just isn’t going to stop. It had started to become almost impossible to say anything to Sarah without it being taken the wrong way. Now it’s even become impossible to not say anything as well. What can you do with that? After she’s gone, me and Maja look at each other and quickly agree that we really do need to take control now and look for something else. The time for hoping this situation will stabilise and all will be OK has passed. It just won’t. In the same breath, we agree that going back to the old place with the two of us living in that tiny room with Jenn living directly below just isn’t an option. But the rent is still being paid so it still exists for us. But no. Just, no. But it still does exist. Just saying.

In any case, this apartment is no longer the place for us right now so once more we go out for no other reason than we have to get out. The difference this time is that we’re totally cranking up the hunt for a new place. We’re starting to reach desperate town. With what’s just happened, it’s time to just get out. We would still rather jump straight to another country and we’ve been speaking about that a lot, but at the same time, we just need another place. Now. And if that’s to be somewhere in London again while we sort out the real move, fine.

We go up onto Hampstead Heath and I start to call friends to see if they have, or know of, any rooms going. This turns into quite a nice catchup with a lot of people as I let them know a little of what’s been going on – only the good stuff of course – and I get to hear how they’ve been doing. Some of these people I haven’t seen or spoken to in well over a year. I’m turning nothing up though, although the word is getting out and people are saying they’ll keep an ear and an eye open. But again, this is still pandemic, lockdown London. Not total total lockdown London, but there remains very little fluid movement of the kind that would normally see a room shake itself free sooner or later.

Then I call my producer friend Alex, who also works as executive chef at a pub in Angel. I played a few studio sessions with as he put together his pop/electronica album. Like everyone else I’ve spoken to so far, he doesn’t know of anything but he does tell me he’s having a party tomorrow night in one of the apartments above his pub. He says he was going to call me about this some time tonight anyway. A lot of people I know will be there and he’s doubling it as a video shoot for one of the songs I played on. Well, chicken and egg here. He’s arranged the video shoot and, with various friends helping out and acting in it, has decided to turn it into the opportunity for a party. He asks me to bring my bass too as he might want me to film a scene with me. Cooler and cooler. We will be there. Me, Maja and bass.  

I make some more calls for a while but still nothing concrete turns up. Oh well. We’ve got the word out there. Time to head back. It’s now sometime between six and seven.

We get to the apartment and Maja decides she wants to keep walking for a while. No problem. So we continue, this time heading into residential London rather than the deep green of the wonderful Hampstead Heath. All the while of course, we’re talking about our experiences with Sarah and our feelings about them. Then we start to talk about the day she came into our room and started filming. Then Maja says, ‘I’m really glad she deleted that video.’ Oh dear. It is true that we asked for that and that Sarah immediately agreed, but I think it’s time the truth was told here. I take a deep breath and dive straight in. ‘Maja, the video wasn’t deleted. Sarah sent it to people and got a negative response back from it. I’m sorry I never told you but…,’ I don’t get any further. Maja has already started to react and it’s stronger than anything I could have imagined. She’s hyperventilating and nothing I can say is going to help right now. I guess I should have just told her at the time, but like I said then, I really didn’t want things to blow up. Well, something had to give, and here we go. It’s blowing up. Immediately we head back to the apartment. This is happening. Now.

Maja:

We go back, pack a backpack each, and a suitcase with duvets and pillows, and our basses and head out, but not before a confrontation with Sarah.

Mark:

Oh yes. That confrontation. Neither of us is in the mood to speak to Sarah right now, and certainly not to have the moving out conversation. So we think we’ll just go in, pick up some backpacks and leave with overnight stuff and come again and maybe have that chat. We’re in and out with backpacks all the time anyway so we figure it will be inconspicuous enough. But somehow Sarah is able to read the situation exactly for what it is and lets her deep offence known that we’re trying to just secretly sneak off. We have to come back again over the next day or two anyway to clear out everything else and that certainly couldn’t be done in secret so no-one’s sneaking off anywhere. We just didn’t want to have any kind of big deal thing going on tonight. Of course I don’t get to say all that and of course it wouldn’t cut any ice if I did. It really is just best to just let Sarah say her thing and get out of here. But no. If there was any chance of us leaving on good terms, that’s not a thing anymore.

But before any of that happens, and before we head back to the apartment to have that confrontation we were hoping not to have, I call Cris to tell him we’re coming back. What I’m really thinking is that he can help us move with his super huge seven seater car. But he has a bad reaction to the fact that we’re moving back, saying this would not be good for Jenn. No it would not but we really have nowhere else to go. And anyway, we’re planning on moving to Ireland soon so hopefully it’s only going to be a temporary thing. He finally comes round to the idea and says, ‘Yes, I understand. I see you have no choice. OK.’ Great. It’s not like we needed his permission, but at least some kind of weak blessing which has been granted, even if someone reluctantly and hesitatingly. But there’s no way I’m going to ask him for car help now. I feel that would put him in an awkward, in the middle, situation.

Then, in all fairness, I have to call Jenn just to give her the heads up that we’re moving back in. She is stunned, but ends up with some kind of resigned acceptance.

Back to the old place it is and we enter quietly and back to the tiny room without encountering anyone. Straight away we start to look at apartments and rooms to try to get ourselves out of here as soon as possible. Nothing fits any kind of realistic budget and, as we talk it through, we conclude that yes, we’ll get onto planning that Ireland move, and then make it as soon as possible. So let’s lie low here. I’ll work my notice at the bar, and then we’ll leave. Two weeks, give or take, and we’ll be on our way. At least, that’s the plan. 

London: The Last Two Weeks, day 49

Day 49

Friday April 9

Mark:

We’re exactly where we didn’t want to be. Living back in what we’re now referring to as The Carrol, after the name of the road. It was my home for six years and I didn’t really see any real circumstance in any kind of mid to even long term where I would have been thinking about leaving it. Well, I did leave it, accidentally and overnight, and now I’m kinda accidentally and overnight back here again and it’s the last place I wanted to be. I wouldn’t expect Maja to, but even I instinctively no longer refer to it as home. It is just The Carrol. We’ve opened up the single bed to make it into a double, which means it now covers the entire width of this tiny room – it literally touches both walls. So, as you enter the room, immediately on your right you have the wardrobe, in front of that and touching the bed is the cake trolley with a lamp on top of it. And to the left and up against the wall at the end of the bed you have our basses. All of which means the patch of floor we have available to us between the door and the bed is about the size of a large toilet mat. Not even luxury large. And of course, below all this is Jenn. Who is simply delighted that we’ve moved back in. Of course she isn’t, for anyone silly enough to have believed that. Sorry if that describes you but I guess that means you just have to face it now. You’re silly. Oh damn, we really need to be moving out of here again. And soon. Forget the fact that we now have a plan to move to Ireland as soon as possible. This is going to be beyond awkward and beyond cramped. Right now, all we’re thinking is to rest up and go to Alex’s party, aiming to arrive around seven. Then tomorrow or maybe the next day, we can start to get our things out of Sarah’s and move it into here, all the while trying to see what kind of other place to stay we can shake out of the trees.

I go outside and make a bunch of phone calls to friends to see if anyone has a heads up on anything, but the most we get is people saying they’ll be on the lookout, and a possibility of a place in Clapham for way over double our budget. When I say our budget is probably less than half of what’s on offer, I get laughed off the phone. Yeah. I’m not convinced London is the answer. And that’s a shame too because, as much as I had no thoughts of moving out of this house, I had even less of ever leaving London, a city I’d wanted to be able to live in again for so long before the opportunity to do so actually came up.

As we talk more about this, we start to think that, maybe rather than try to move somewhere else in London when we’re ultimately looking at leaving the country anyway, we should just stick it out here and make the big move when we’re ready. With that, we agree that I should continue to do the two weeks I’ve committed to the bar as notice, while making plans to move to Ireland as soon as that’s done. This thing will probably take around two weeks at least to plan and execute anyway. So why throw away all my goodwill and reputation, built up over three years, for the sake of leaving a few days early? After all, we still have a lot of research to do. All we know is, somewhere in Ireland. Beyond that, we have no house and no leads on one, and no car, and no leads on one. And we still need to get ourselves properly sorted out here. So no. Bar or no bar, this is not something we’re going to do overnight. So yeah. I’ll do the two weeks as planned while making a plan, and then, all things going well, soon after that we’ll leave.

I phone Paul for a bit of a chat and an update, and a little about what we’re thinking next. ‘Bloody hell Mark,’ he says. ‘You two should be on Oprah.’

Yeah, there still seems to be a lot going on. I think we really want to forget about all this, just have a nice time at the party, and worry about tomorrow tomorrow. Approaching 4pm we’re just lying down taking it easy, not intending to move until we have to. Maybe a couple of hours of just total chill time. Sounds lovely. Doesn’t happen. This plan lasts until 4:30pm when I get a voice message. It’s from Sarah. We listen to it together. Oh dear. She’s telling us that if we haven’t got our stuff out of the room today, it will be taken out. She says it will be put into the hallway, but whatever, it doesn’t sound good. We need to go. Now. But how? We have no car and I wouldn’t feel comfortable asking Cris to help us out because he’s not at all happy that we’ve come back and plonked ourselves right above Jenn again. Fair enough. Which is why I won’t put him in the position of having to say no. Then I remember Rafael who was so put out when we didn’t ask him to help us move to Sarah’s. It’s worth a call, but I’m kinda asking him to meet us now now.

I put the call in. He’s happy to help, but really not sure he can help now. Maybe tomorrow. No, I say. Really sorry, but tomorrow’s no good. It’s now or I’ll say thankyou very much and we’ll just do it ourselves. Oh damn this feels bad. He says he’ll call back in a few minutes. This is a tense time. Nothing we can do between now and then. But he does call back in a few minutes and says he’ll meet us there in ten but he’ll only be able to help for an hour or so. Thankyou thankyou thankyou, but I tell him we’ll be there in more like 15 because it will take at least that long to walk there, and that’s if we leave this very instant, which we will pretty much do. Fine.

As we approach Sarah’s we’re keeping a curiously nervous eye out to see if any of our stuff has been thrown out onto the street. Thankfully, it hasn’t. But there’s behind the apartments as well, with a whole garden area back there. I go round and have a look. OK. Nothing out here either. That’s at least a little relief. Now to go and wait for Rafael. We really don’t feel like encountering Sarah before we have to so we decide not to wait out front, preferring to go to the end of the street, on the corner with the main road. Every now and then, I walk out into the road to see if I can see him. After five minutes or so, here he comes. His van is painted in his company’s colours and has a bit of a strange roof for carrying particular materials, so it’s very distinctive. I thank him very much for coming. No problem. He goes and parks up outside where I tell him the apartment is and me and Maja go in.

We reach the front door and, although we have a key, I think it’s only right to knock rather than just walk in. To be fair, Sarah is someone who, if she has an issue, says her piece and mentally moves on and, outwardly at least, she’s pleased to see us and is welcoming, although she does make a point of demanding we take the fridge as well, because she doesn’t want it. Fine. I walk in first. I don’t see what looks the two girls exchange behind me. 

We walk into what we’d started considering home until last night and thankfully, everything is as we left it. To make things a little easier on Maja, who really doesn’t want to encounter Sarah too much, I opt for the heavy lifting. This means I’ll be taking everything downstairs to the van and Maja can concentrate on packing. And out on the street, Rafael says I should just drop everything next to the van and let him pack it. We have a few backpacks and a whole bunch of shopping bags. Plus, there are quite a few things that can just be taken down whole, such as the two bass amps. We get started. It does take an hour or so and is without incident or any kind of harsh words. Only best wishes from Sarah as we reach the end and give her her key back. The one bit that could have been sticky is getting the fridge out of there, but those things are a lot lighter and easier to move about than you’d think, even down stairs. Van all packed and we give our eternal thanks once more to Rafael and we’re off. Once at The Carrol, the job does take on a bit of a seemingly never ending quality as we first empty the van, which is parked about 40 yards from the house, and then get everything downstairs and back into the room, which Maja is organising. This sees us both carry everything from the van to the house, piling up the front garden and then the street, and then I start to take everything downstairs, bit by tiny bit. Yes, including the fridge, which means we now totally have our own fridge and freezer in the house which is quite handy. 

Unbelievably, from receiving the scary message at 4:30, by 7:50pm we’re on the bus to Angel. It was horrible having to do everything like that, and in the mad dash way in which we did, but now we can go to the party with the whole move behind us and tomorrow is completely clear. Yes. So much better that it’s all done.  

And this party will be Maja’s first indoor London social where she will meet what I consider to be my central London crowd made up of some of the coolest and best bar staff and bar managers in London. Basically people I met while me and Dan were playing the scene as pop cover duo The Insiders. And yep, when we arrive, there they all are. Not everyone, but a really good representation. Kristoff, Alex, Tom, Jess, Shane, Molly, Jess, and a few other people. They’ve been busy recording the video for the lead single off Alex’s album which I’ve done a few sessions of bass recording on, including the song in question today. For that reason he asked me to bring my bass along, which I have, so that he could possibly film a scene with me and him. We don’t get around to that tonight. Instead, we arrive deep in party territory and just get stuck in. Oh, these guys love Maja and she’s instantly the centre of attention and having a great time. So the pubs aren’t open yet, Maja’s never been to a London pub, and now here she is at a party above one. And yes, we’re going to stay the night. Of course, it turns into a very late one.

London: The Last Two Weeks: days 50, 51 and 52

Day 50

Saturday April 10

Mark:

Alex’s apartment sometime late morning. A few guys have hung around and we have a wonderfully relaxed and fun morning having a full English breakfast and playing Uno until we decide it’s time to leave around 3pm. We’re very close to the financial district and the old, original London Roman wall so I suggest we take a walk to that. This is a very strange archaeological site of Roman ruins right in among the super modern London banking buildings and a perfect setting to round off a very eventful few days as we meander through the rough, broken stone and haphazardly kept vegetation between it all, trying very hard to picture a London that began and ended within these ancient walls. 

Day 51

Sunday April 11

Mark:

Wow, I have been on furlough for a long time. This whole saga, as far as I’m concerned, began on March 23, 2020 when the bars closed and I went onto furlough payments, which was 80 per cent of salary, based on average wages over a given period. My payments really were quite generous and perfectly adequate. The bars reopened on June 23. On November 5, with covid on the rise again, a second lockdown was announced so the bar closed and into furlough I went again. Then we went into farce territory with bars opening again on December 2 with the government desperate to ‘save Christmas,’ only for them to close again on December 21. Me and Maja then spoke for the first time on the phone on December 26.

A quick covid bar furlough timeline looks like this.

March 23, 2020, bars close

June 23, bars reopen

November 5, bars close

December 2, bars reopen

December 21, bars close

And so it has remained. Until tomorrow, April 12, although one caveat of bars reopening is that they can only serve outside and everything has to be table service so this will be fun. It also means that bars with not so much outdoor space will not be reopening, so only a partial return to form anyway. As for the Palmerston, well that has six tables out front and a whole massive garden out back, so we have plenty of capacity. It will just be a bit of a stretch doing table service only for those two wide apart areas.

Today we have a staff meeting at the bar where I announce to everyone that I’m leaving in two weeks. This is of course met with shock, and a why and what the hell, and then quite a bit of happiness and well wishing as I tell a short version of the story. Next, the important bit. Who can take shifts off me? The big problem is that a few people who went home to their native countries haven’t come back so we don’t have a full complement of staff. I’m very disappointed that I only manage to get two days taken off me. Oh well. OK. I start tomorrow. 

Back to tell Maja the news and she’s equally disappointed, but I make it clear that, as the days go on, I may well be able to arrange cover for more shifts. But really, it’s no big deal. I can just do these two weeks, cover what cover, do what I don’t and then we’re back as you were.

With the bars opening up tomorrow, that means no more lockdown London and Maja wants one last look at the epic emptiness of it, so we take a trip out. First to Kings Cross where I suggest an overground train. I have a very good reason for this as I’ve wanted to show Maja this for a while. This train goes to Blackfriars station which I’ve said before is quite possibly one of the most stunning train platforms in the world. The whole thing is a bridge across the River Thames, quite close to St Paul’s Cathedral, so offers incredible views all across the city centre on both sides. Of course, by default, it also takes us into the city, so this is where we get off for one last walk through empty lockdown London. Maja’s London. There is a real feeling of loosening in the air so it’s not quite as iconic as it has been, but still. These streets are definitely not bustling. And there’s a moment on the way back, as we approach Farringdon in zone one, that we’re able to look all ways on a crossroads and not see a single person. So yes, we did get what we came for. We end up walking all the way back to King’s Cross where we started and get a bus back from there. Which is weird, as it means I’m back on the old and familiar 214 to The Carrol. 

Day 52

Monday April 12

Mark:

Oh wow. I really did not see this coming. The bar is traumatically busy. Just non non non stop. And it’s only me the boss, Moni, on. It really is one of the busiest days ever. It’s like a Sunday and looks like continuing this way. I’ve never seen this, not even on the busiest of Sundays; even she has a moment where she just leans back, half sitting, and says, ‘This is just too much.’ Moni says that. I never thought I’d see the day, but here it is. With everything having been closed for almost four months, I can totally understand the feeding frenzy which means that no-one can just walk in here and claim an outdoor table. Anyone who’s been remotely clued up has seen this coming and has booked. You can see the bookings on the system and I’ve never seen anything like it. And it’s already booked exactly like this everyday for the next ten days. And you just know that the days and weeks after that will end up being the same. The relief me and Moni have when Kitty comes in to start sometime mid afternoon. But then, poor Kitty, as she realises what she’s walking into. But with three of us on now, it feels a whole lot easier.

I finish at five and Maja comes by as planned. The gardens are all full so we do what customers can’t and go upstairs to the function room where we share a burger and chips. We could get a beer and actually be inside a pub with one when no-one else is allowed to, but we decide to go home and get some stuff done instead. I like this idea because all day at the pub I’ve been wanting to get home and research what it could take to live in Ireland. We think about how to get stuff there and I suggest hire a van we can leave in Ireland. Maja jumps in with, no. We buy a van as we need one anyway.

So the plan now is to find a house in the countryside of Ireland and live and do our thing there, with a studio setup, a place to invite people, and to tour the country and beyond from there.

With this decided, Maja immediately starts looking at vans for sale. The idea is to buy an actual van rather than a camper van, and adapt it for living, to make it viable for touring.

As the plan starts to take shape, Maja reveals she’s long had the idea for an adapted van but didn’t know what she really wanted to do with it. I now say that I’ve long had the idea to tour in this kind of way but didn’t know how it could really happen. WHere we are now is that Maja had the how, I had the what, but neither of us really had an exact idea of the where. Now all three have come together.

The plan

What, touring

Who, Mark and Maja

How, adapted van

Where, Ireland

We’re planning all this upstairs in our room. Well, Maja’s in the room, sitting on the bed. Which leaves no space for anything or anyone else. Outside the bedroom door is the hallway with a railing above the stairs and immediately opposite the door is the toilet. I’m sitting next to the toilet with my back against the railings. Yep. We have basically annexed part of the hallway to our room.

London, The Last Two Weeks: Days 53 and 54

Day 53

Tuesday April 13

Mark:

April 13 – the last 13th, we almost killed a cat. I wonder what will happen on this one.

I’m in the bar sometime in the early afternoon and finishing around 9, so that means Maja can come by tonight and have her first drink in a bar in London. Or at least her first drink outside in a bar in London. But her very first visit is to go there for a coffee as I have the idea to meet a regular and a friend, Ricky, who I know has contacts in Ireland so I think he will be a good person for a preliminary chat. 

He meets us there and we tell him our plans. What he comes back with surprises the hell out of both of us. He’s taking care of a three bedroom house in Donegal, which I knew about. He now says he might be able to offer that to us for a nominal rent. He says if it was up to him, he would just let us have it but apparently there are other people to consider, so some rent would have to be charged. He asks how we’d feel about £300 a month. Damn. You can’t get a room in Ktown for anything like that, no matter how small. You’re talking almost twice that just to begin. And there’d be no deposit on this place either. Damn again. Just a pretty much token rent. For a three bedroom place. He says he’ll have to make a call or two, but he really expects we’ll be able to do this. So, just like that, we’re touching distance from having our starter home in Ireland. It’s right up in the north of the country, so hardly optimal for touring around the place, but it’s a start, and that’s all we’re looking for right now. A house, somewhere in Ireland. Where, is totally irrelevant. Just something we can move to, start from, and maybe plan the next move to somewhere that would be optimal. But first, let’s just worry about being able to get there.

We leave Ricky, chill for a bit, then I go in for my Tuesday, which is every bit as busy as my Monday, but at least I know what I’m walking into this time. When I’ve finished, Maja arrives and we have drinks outside, again with Ricky, and a few other off duty staff members. This is where the only drinking outside thing hits its first real snag. It’s April, so the evenings can still get a bit chilly. To sit out there and drink cold beer, doesn’t really work so well. And this is the south east of the UK. This outside thing is going to bite a lot more up north, and let’s not even start on what it could be like in Scotland. We have a couple of drinks and realise that to stay for anymore would be to endure rather than enjoy. We’ve enjoyed this little tickle, but it’s time to get off now. But it’s been lovely for people to meet Maja in this way, and for us to tell them our plans, which are to plan stuff during this two week period while I’m at the bar, finish that two weeks, and then head off to Ireland, assuming our planning has gone how we would like. 

It’s a ten minute walk home. Half of that walk is downhill, all the way to the corner shop, pretty much where Kentish Town, Highgate, Gospel Oak and Tufnell Park all meet. That little street on the corner also contains the wonderful organic shop we just casually pop out to all the time. This corner is less than five minutes walk to the house.

We’re approaching it on the right hand side, hand in hand, walking at a pretty decent pace, me on the inside. I give Maja a little shove, to indicate that we should start crossing the road at a diagonal angle, to take in the corner as well, walking all the way across the road to be on the pavement walking past the organic shop. Maja responds and steps off the kerb. She goes immediately, with a scream. I react very quickly to try to stop her falling but nothing can be done. She goes all the way down, landing very heavily on her knee and just stays there, head down, not quite screaming, but scarily loud all the same. The speed of the fall has taken her deep into the road but she is making no moves at all to get out of the way of any cars that could be coming. But it’s very quiet right now and no cars are coming. I have no idea what to do. I go and crouch down with Maja to see what’s going on, but she isn’t responding at all. It’s just very clear something has gone very wrong. She’s sobbing quietly now but still no acknowledgement of any awareness of her surroundings, or the fact that I’m even there. I have no idea how long we stay like this, but eventually she at least manages to get up and be dragged somewhat to the kerb and somewhere a little more safe. I then ask if she can get up and walk. She slowly gets up, but walk, that’s another thing altogether. I support most of her weight, or as much as I can, and she hobbles very very carefully to the end of the street. There are no thoughts now of trying to cross the whole thing in one go, instead, we stay at this side, intending to cross just where the estate starts, about 40 yards down at a zebra crossing where we’ll have right of way and will be able to take our time. 

Just as we reach this pavement, at which would normally be five minutes from the house but now I have no idea how long this will take, a car stops. The guy asks if we need help getting anywhere. Yes. Yes please, we do. Except I don’t say that right away. I start by wanting go reassure him that we really don’t have far to go, that we just live a little way past that bridge over there. Before I can say anything else, he says, OK, no problem, and drives off. Noooooo. Come back. That’s not what I meant. Damn. We carry on the very slow, hobbly walk home. My first indication that this is bad, comes when we’re just 10 yards or so away from the house. Practically outside next door. Maja goes down again and says she simply can’t go any further. She takes a break for a while and we go again, pushing it for the last 10 yards. But then of course, when we reach our upside-down house, there are a whole bunch of stairs to negotiate downwards to reach the bedroom.

We reach the room and have by now decided that this is something pretty bad. Maybe a really bad twist. I call 111, the non emergency number and we get given an A&E (ER) appointment for 11am the next morning. Then we try to sleep, but for Maja, I know this is far from a comfortable night. I do what I can, but really, there isn’t much I can do.

Day 54

Wednesday April 14

Maja:

My ankle is broken. In two places. The tendons on each side of the ankle, the two little bits that stick out, were pulled so hard and fast that pieces of bone were pulled out of both of them. 

Mark:

When I hear that, a shiver goes through my whole body. And at the same time we realise we won’t be going to Ireland anytime soon. There’s no way Maja will be able to drive in any near future. And no, I can’t drive. Failed my test an embarrassing amount of times with the last one being far too many years ago to think of. Maybe I’ll get back on that particular horse, sorry, car one day. No idea when. 

But anyway, the hospital visit goes like this.

We arrive in a taxi and immediately realise we will need a wheelchair if Maja is to be in anyway mobile around here. I leave her by the entrance to go in and see what I can do. I speak to someone on reception and they tell me wheelchairs aren’t given out. You just have to walk around and try and find one another patient has vacated. So that’s what I do for the next five or ten minutes or so. I’m almost giving up until I realise that’s not an option. I don’t want Maja waiting too long wondering where the hell I’ve got to, especially not in the distressed state she must be in. I make my way back to the entrance just to let her know I’ve not found anything yet but am still looking. On the way I walk past the ambulance bay. And there, right in front of one of them, is a wheelchair. Wonderful. Job done. But it’s not one of those large wheeled things. No, this only has little wheels, meaning the person sitting in it can’t propel themselves, but always have to be pushed. Totally takes away any independence. But I get it. They don’t want drunken people, or non drunken people, finding wheelchairs and deciding to have races down the corridors Hollywood style. Little wheels it is. Sorry Maja. I’m in control now.

Back home and I leave Maja in bed to go off to shop. I get there and before I even start to have a look around, the manager asks me to wait a second because he has something for me. What could he possibly be talking about? He disappears out back, and comes back carrying a bass. Yep. He disappears out back, and comes back carrying a bass.

‘This was left here by someone about a month ago,’ he says. We kept it to see if anyone would come back and claim it but no-one did. I decided that if it was still here by around now, I would give it to you. Wow. Just wow. So this is what apparently happens now when I pop out to get milk. I also see immediately that it’s tuned B E A D. Very cool. You could say Maja’s a bit surprised when I arrive back at the room with a, ‘Guess what I just got from the shop.’ Just for the record, it’s a light brown satellite. Oh, and we plug it in and it really is super quiet, but we’re confident this is something that can be fixed.

Although she’s gone to the hospital and been well looked after, Maja is continuing to have pains. Luckily I wasn’t rota’d on at the bar for today, but I am supposed to be in tomorrow. I decide I won’t be and, if it comes to it, I will just refuse. But I make the call and give them a little time to cover me, hoping it won’t come to me having to make a flat out refusal. I’m also hoping to get Friday and Saturday covered, but Moni calls back after a couple of hours and says tomorrow is arranged but that’s all that can be done as we’re currently operating with such a tiny staff and Duran, the assistant manager, is also working at another pub while continuing to work with us. It really is a stretch to get days covered. Fair enough and thankyou. OK. Let’s deal with this.

We already knew our Ireland plans had been completely smashed aside with this. Today, as the shock subsides and reality settles, we realise Maja won’t be able to drive for seven or eight weeks. A driver needs to at least be able to do an emergency stop comfortably, meaning you really have to be able to slam down on the brake, so just being able to soft pedal the thing is no good. But in any case, it’s going to be a long drive. At least from here to Liverpool for the ferry to Belfast, then from there to we have no idea where in Ireland. This would be a tough drive at the best of times. With a recovering broken ankle? Forget about it.

London, The Last Two Weeks, days 55, 56 and 57

Day 55

Thursday April 15

Oh dear. I do my best to get out of the bar for the next two days, but with so many people having not returned yet, not to mention the fact that I can only be covered by another supervisor or management level person, I’m told with apologies that I can’t be accommodated. So, short of simply refusing to go in and damning the consequences for everybody, I just have to do this. Maja is not happy at all, but understands and my job now is to make sure she has enough food and drink in the room for the time I’m away because she simply cannot go downstairs to the kitchen. But at least I just happen to be off today. I think if I wasn’t with it just being the day after the hospital, I might just have done that rebellion thing and refused to go in and damn the consequences. At the very least, I’m grateful that it didn’t come to that. 

Day 56

Friday April 16

Mark:

I’m in from 1pm till 8:30. Maja can’t begin to think about stairs, and our bedroom is on the mid level, with the front door upstairs and the kitchen downstairs. The toilet, like we established a few days ago, is directly opposite the bedroom so that’s an easy reach. But the kitchen is a no no. So before I leave, I have to make sure Maja has enough food and drink to get her through the amount of time I’ll be out. It’s a very unhappy Maja that I say goodbye to shortly before 1pm as I leave for the bar for the day.

During the day, I tell Moni how things are and ask if she could at least get me out sometime early tomorrow.

Day 57

Saturday April 17

Mark:

Moni comes through for me and goes above what I asked for. Thankyou very much Moni. 

I’m due in from 10am till 5pm today. But at 8:30am she texts me to say that not only are this Sunday and my Tuesday now covered. Brilliant. I was already scheduled to be off tomorrow, so now after this short bit today, I’m off all the way to and including Thursday. Which means that after today, I only have two days left to work in the bar before I’m all done, and that will be Friday and Saturday.

When I get in today, it gets even better as Moni tells me I can finish at two today instead of Five. Result. She then adds that she has 15 applicants for my job, so if she gets to interviews this week, maybe even Friday and Saturday will go. 

During the day I tell one of our regulars I’m quitting the bar job. He naturally asks for the why and I tell him some of our story. As I get deeper and deeper into it, he collapses more and more in laughter at the continuing absurdity, not least the fact that right now this very moment, my girlfriend, who I met online and who came from Sweden to stay in lockdown London seeking temporary respite when her world fell apart, is lying in our bed, right above the room I used to share with my former girlfriend, who is still living there by the way, and is there as we speak. It takes him a while to grasp the fact that we are all actually living in the same house. And that I’m about to move to Ireland with this girl who I met less than two months ago and with whom I’ve already moved house twice, the second one back to where we started as we fled the crazy naked communal, musical living situation we’d walked into which just happened to come with an offer of a free apartment which never fully materialised. That’s all before you consider the fact that me and Maja became an item on the way from the airport to my house during what was supposed to be a friendly visit, and were talking about having kids together less than a week later, shortly after, deciding to get married and tour the world playing songs we haven’t written yet with Maja having never played a single live show in her life. We were planning on leaving for Ireland next week to get started, but of course a few days ago she broke her ankle walking back from the bar.

This guy is a head cameraman who works on top Hollywood productions. As I’m talking, he stops me and says, ‘You do realise this thing is just too implausible for a movie?’ I nod. I know. ‘But you’re telling me all this actually happened?’ Yep. He shakes his head in disbelief and acceptance. ‘If it’s a true story, that’s totally different,’ he says. ‘What I’m really reminded of is Catch Me If You Can, a story you could never get away with apart from the fact that it’s all true.’ This is a Steven Spielberg movie starring Matt Damon. Then my friend says, ‘You also realise that there’s too much here for a movie? It would have to be a TV series.’ Took the words right out of my mouth. That’s exactly where we think this is ultimately all going. We very much agree with him on the implausibility factor as well.

Maja:

I remember when we walked down the streets of Camden, joyfully giggling and shouting at times: ‘We need to fire our script writer, this is all too crazy!’ Just too many things that have been happening lately that it stopped making sense ages ago. One enormous development after the next, and I, for the life of me, would never have been able to foresee what would happen next. When Mark comes home and tells me about his conversation today, I feel oddly validated. Yes, it’s not only me. This really is a bit over the top.

Mark:

Just as we start to think we’re going to be OK with this, Maja says her foot is numb. Not good, so we call 111 who say we need to go to A&E immediately. Damn. Fine. We get a taxi and when we arrive, I’m told I can’t go in because of the Covid thing. OK but not OK. It is pretty cold and I’m not dressed for a long wait outside. I get it, but Maja is not independent at all right now and no-one had a problem with me being in with her the last time we were here. That’s not cutting any ice. At all. So I wait outside for the hour and a half it takes for this to be sorted. There really isn’t much to do so I content myself with sending silly messages to Maja.

London: The Last Two Weeks, days 58 and 59

Day 58

Sunday April 18

Mark:

We have a first rehearsal at the house today, just chucking some songwriting ideas back and forth with the guitar. Getting the musical feeling back really. I also hit the bass with pretty much the same attitude. Just getting back into it. What’s really nice is that I wake up just needing to play so I do.

Then, once we’re up and about, we’re in the garden for the first time since we got back. It really is nice to be outside and relaxed like this, and it’s here, reclining in deckchairs in the sun, that Maja first has the idea of maybe traveling about with a car and a tent. This could be an effective touring strategy – turning up at venues in which we could stay the night after a show, but demonstrating that we’re self sufficient at the same time. We kinda think that in touring, we could also stay at the houses of audience members, but we still like the idea of having a tent handy, kind of in the spirit of, people help people who help themselves. All in all, we’re just putting detail on the bones of how a life of musical touring could be possible.

Day 59

Monday April 19

Maja:

The weather is nice so we go on a walk around the block, making our way to the outdoor coffee shop where we have a nice coffee and chat with the locals. We meet a friend of Mark’s, also called Mark, by the coffee shop and he sits down with us to have a chat. I’m resting my superboot on a chair, so it’s only natural that he sits with us. He tells us about his filming project going on a motorcycle all around the island of England to interview locals, and I misinterpret it as a filming project about him traveling all around Ireland to interview locals. I really think it’s fun that he is looking at traveling to Ireland as well. Mark explains my misunderstanding to me as we walk back home at a super slow pace. He was actually talking about going round the UK, referring to it as The Island. 

Well home I’m exhausted. I haven’t been out and about in about a week, and it’s just exhausting so I go to sleep for a while, while Mark gets on with some phone calls. There’s always phone calls to be had. Always. Around 8 ish, we’re awake, hungry and annoyed about not being as productive as we’d like to have been. And we haven’t even played any bass today, or worked on any songs. At all. We eat something small, and I decide that we’ll do a bass session. Mark wants to do some music writing, but we start off with bass. It’s another one hour session entirely on right hand plucking technique. I start to somewhat get a hang on how to pluck more fluently. My plucking technique is now better than it has ever been before, and I am now using the same technique that Mark uses – free strokes. I’ve always used rest strokes before. After finishing a session on bass, we continue to finally get some original music writing done. Mark’s a brilliant songwriter. I’m not sure if that has been clearly written enough in these diaries, but he really knows what he is doing. So finally, after everything we’ve been through these couple of months, after everyone we’ve told about our project, we are finally in a mentally calm enough space to be able to even start to consider writing music. Even if writing music is our top priority, even if it now is our self chosen duty to actually write music, every disturbance that came along just put our heads further and further away from actually writing. We’d prepared a couple of documents with lyrics ideas in advance. So we take a look through our documents and start with the one that is most ready. And here the magic happens. Mark just does, well how to say it, his magic. I’ve never worked with a true professional like this before, and it is clear as day that he knows exactly what he is doing. Line after line just comes out, accompanied by his bass playing. I struggle to sing along and be helpful, it’s quite fun, but compared to him, I have no idea of what I am doing. I got one melodic idea during the session, to do with one of the lines, but he had so many. It’s truly wonderful to be able to work with him. Amazing really. I don’t feel pressed on performing very well in this situation, I know that it’ll come around when I’m more used to it. He has had a lifetime in music, and now he has decided that he wants to invest that in someone like me. I am truly flattered. I know that eventually, I am going to have more to give in the creative aspects, but for now, I’m going with the flow. Watching. Learning. Using what I have to do what I can. For me, it’s like I am a student, working with a colleague that is a star.

Mark:

What can I say? All the above is true. But seriously, sometimes ideas and melodies come, sometimes they don’t. Today they just happen to be exploding in me. But also, Maja really has woken the dormant songwriter in me and it’s so cool to be thinking about original music again. That’s not something I’ve really had an interest in for around seven or eight years, despite, for a long time, songwriting being all I wanted to do. I just hit a point when I realised so many of the impossibilities of songwriting as a profession, not least the fact that I needed so many different people to work with and could never get them all in the room at the same time. So I decided to make it as just being a bass player instead and totally dedicated myself to that and reinventing myself as how I played bass. This was around 2013, and in 2014 I took off on the adventure that would become Mark’s Diaries. Which ended about two months ago as Mark’s Diaries violently collided with Maja’s Diaries and became The Diaries.

Going way way back in time, in almost every band I’ve been in I’ve been the primary songwriter, which included writing about 80 per cent of Drunken Monkees’ album in 2010, the one that saw us take off to Hamburg to try to be rockstars. Going further back, I’ve run songwriter nights, including the legendary regular Tuesday night at Fred Zeppelins in Cork. I can claim absolutely no credit for its legendariness, that kudos all going to Ronan Leanard who ran it before me, couldn’t continue with it for reasons I can’t begin to remember and so handed me the reins. That, for me, felt like the moment I arrived in Cork as a true part of the music establishment of that incredibly musical city. At the time, I was of course a journalist on the Evening Echo, a job I had for four years but even then I had kind of morphed into the paper’s de facto music writer and so was totally immersed in all things musical in the city, both professionally and personally. Call it unprofessional, but as well as reporting on all the original bands of the time, I was also playing in a whole bunch of them, including my own, Fly On The Wall, playing mostly my songs although other members did make their own notable contributions from time to time. A lot of this happened in conjunction with running the songwriter night, for which I felt obliged to lead by example and have at least one new song every week; as host, I played the first two or three song set.

This whole original band thing continued until I had to leave journalism in the illness/fibromyalgia episode that lasted around five years until I had my breakthrough and moved to Madrid. During that five years, I couldn’t see myself doing any conventional work again, and so really put myself into becoming a songwriter trying to have my songs placed with other people. I worked with a producer on this, working from home and my own little studio and sending rough productions of my songs to him regularly, sometimes even at request for a particular artist of particular project. But nothing came of any of them. Then the move to Madrid happened where I tried to keep this thing going but it really just fizzled out. Then, after the whole album thing, I hit a five minute period when it looked like this part of my life might just be making a come back but again that came to nothing and I thought, screw it, just concentrate on being the best bass player you can be and go that way, which led to the Costa Blanca Diary and then directly to London. So there I was. All through London refusing to be involved, as a direct member, in any original project. If someone wanted to pay me for a studio session on their own stuff, great. But live, apart from jam sessions, if it didn’t pay, I didn’t do it. Which meant playing covers, although there was that interlude playing original songs with Dan, but I was also playing in The Insiders with him – our professional cover duo – so I was happy to help him out with original sets from time to time and it was something fun and cool to work on alongside our cover work, indeed we would sometimes do an original set somewhere in London, then run off to do a paid gig somewhere. And there was always the possibility his thing could take off, and we did manage to get some good representation in the form of Hot Vox, so it was really all good. But that was it, as far as I was concerned, until Maja came along.

All this new thinking about songwriting today seems to have opened my mind a little and I remember that I have some Irish running through my family in the shape of one of my uncles. I call him, bring him up to speed with some of our craziness, and ask if he might know anyone in Ireland who could just give us a heads up on houses or anything. He puts me in touch with a friend of his who just happens to live in Donegal. There’s Donegal again. Are we getting some kind of message here? Her name is Sarah and her and her husband moved to Donegal some years ago and she’s happy to give me some bits and pieces about how much she loves the place, but little concrete, so to speak. But it’s great to have made this contact and she says that now she knows we’re looking, and the kind of thing we’re looking for, if she should hear of anything suitable, she’ll let us know. Wonderful. 

London: The Last Two Weeks, days 60, 61 and 62

Day 60

Tuesday April 20

Mark:

Maja sits down to properly budget today to see how much time we can last on the money that’s available. Into this go a few things we can’t quite know such as the car we need to buy and how much rent we’ll have to pay for whatever we find in Ireland, including deposit. But we put figures here on the highest amounts we want to spend and factor that into the equations. What comes up is that if no more money came in at all, we have enough to last six months give or take.

A little cash injection would definitely help and I think it’s now time to make a suggestion I’ve been thinking about recently which could help us to pull in a chunk more before we set off. If it works and really comes through it could add four or five months to our viability. It might sound scary, but the answer is this. Medical trials. But really, not as scary or outlandish as you might think. I’m not coming at this blind. I’ve done two of them at the same facility in north London and the place in question was considered so safe that even the nurses working there would take out holiday and join a trial. Kinda like the workers in a sausage factory happily eating their own sausages or bar staff eating the food from the bar’s kitchen. Adds a layer or two of consumer confidence. It also helps that on my two trials I spoke to people with a lot of experience of doing them. Some even did them as their main source of income, and others saw them as a very powerful financial supplement to their self employed endeavours. The only financial restriction is that you can’t take a trial within three months of finishing one so you can’t just hop from one to another. But even so, it is still possible to do three or four a year if the jigsaw of schedules falls right. And if you get on the right ones, you really can make a liveable wage. I have a look and there are a couple starting soon that don’t take too long to complete and pay £3000 per person, so £6000 to add to our battle kitty should we both get on. Perfect if we could do that, especially as we have an enforced longer period in London now we have to wait for Maja’s ankle. It would also get us away from the house for a week or so. From what, I’m sure you can imagine, isn’t always the most comfortable of atmospheres. We decide to have a look at it just a little more, sleep on it, and if we still feel good about this tomorrow I’ll make the call. 

I also start to think further forwards and research, digging up and starting to remember contacts of mine from my time in Ireland. As do, I begin to feel like I’ve spent my whole life preparing for this. A few bullet points.

I’ve been involved in live music performance at many different levels for most of my life. Bass mostly of course, but a decent enough amount of experience on guitar, at the very least at a basic rhythm level, perfectly adequate for accompanying purposes.

I was a journalist for 10 years, covering a lot of different topics but I mostly gravitated towards music. There, I very deliberately researched that industry for around 10 years on so many different levels.

Four years of this journalistic experience was in Ireland where I built up the contacts and knowledge of the country and its music industry,

I have a whole bunch of songs I wrote over a period of years which we will now be looking at as we start to create our own set. Or at the very least, all that songwriting gives me a very solid basis of experience.

I spent six years as a full time English teacher in Madrid, and this is now being used to help Maja with her own English, meaning I’m able to answer language questions and explain language concepts to a deeper level than a layperson.

Then there’s Maja.

She’s a singer, or at least has already embarked on the journey of becoming one, along with already having embraced the possibility of fronting a band.

She drives

She has the very highest level of computer and internet skills, a vital component in any business that wants to make a real impact whatever the industry.

And for both of us

We share the same drive, ambition, work ethic and intensity. 

Here’s something we could both say: I’ve always had this intensity. I now feel there are two of me. 

It’s a cliche that any multiple of people can be greater than the sum of its parts, but we’re feeling even greater than a sum. Instead, we more have a feeling of things multiplying.

So basically, on a broad level, we very much share the same skillset and have the same ambitions and directions in which we want to take that skillset. But we also both have things the other doesn’t have and which complement and fill gaps in the others’ spectrum. As we contemplate all this we have a realisation. We are going to be famous. This is said as matter of factly as if we were saying we we’re going to pop out and buy some bread. It just totally feels like a totally unassailable, unstoppable truth.

Day 61

Wednesday April 21

Mark:

I get on the medical trial trail and speak to a person called Hannah who is very happy to hear from us and says that there’s no reason we can’t get the ball rolling from here. During these phone calls we discover that Maja weighs a little bit too much to participate right now, so she decides to go on a strict diet until the trial. Maja is also told she has to register with a GP but we are already looking at this so that’s handy. That happens today at our local practice Kentish town where I also take the opportunity to get the relevant medical records I need for the hospital.

We really start to dig deep today, looking at the modern music industry and how we can use it to actually make this thing work. It helps if you can break these things down into actual workable, tangible, realistic projects. With that, we realise we have our first goal: get a place in Ireland and organise the means to get there. Which means find a house in a country we’re currently not even in, and buy a car so that we can drive to wherever that ends up being. We also talk about what kind of music we’re going to write and play and conclude that it will be cute and poppy, maybe with a touch of attitude. We’re on our way. Kinda.

I call Per to say hi and then get round to what’s happening here. Kinda. ‘Remember that girl whose music we listened to and critiqued on the phone to her a few weeks back?’ ‘The Swedish one?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Well she’s living with me now and we’re an item.’ I might as well have just told him I’d built a rocket in my back garden, was setting off for the moon today and did he fancy coming. He reacts like it’s obviously a joke. A not very funny one, but, ‘Yeah yeah. Of course she is.’ ‘No, really, she’s here now. Upstairs in the house and asleep right now.’ This actually goes back and forth a bit – more than looks good on the printed page – until finally something breaks. His voice suddenly changes tone he says, ‘You’re actually not joking are you? What the hell’s going on? What happened?’ When I’m finally able to get clear sky to let him in on things and on what we’ve been talking about and what we’re planning to do, he couldn’t be happier. For me, for us, for himself for simply hearing this kind of story happening in reality to a friend of his. ‘You think things like this can’t happen mate,’ he says. ‘To meet a girl whose on the same page as you as much as this on the things you both want to do, and that you’re really making a plan to go to go off and do all that together. That’s just the best thing I’ve heard in years.’ Then, when I tell him about the ankle break and what that’s done to our plans, he goes slightly into overdrive. ‘That’s too much now,’ he says. ‘You know this is a movie right?’ Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot.

Day 62

Thursday April 22

Maja:

Neither of us sleeps very well, possibly with minds racing that this has all suddenly become very real and very doable.

This not sleeping would normally be OK and we’d just sleep more in the morning, but not today. I have to be at the hospital by 9am. We both go and the prognosis after it’s had time to settle is promising. It’s apparently healing exceptionally quickly. I also ask when I’ll be able to drive again and I am told in a week or two, which is great and may make our Ireland move possible at an earlier stage again. 

Mark:

Maja comes out all positive and almost ready to leave for Ireland this week. Now if we could, it seems to me. ‘When the doctor says you’re OK to drive, he’s probably thinking about a trip to the shops. Not a road trip of four to five hundred miles, without even thinking about how much driving about we might have to do when we actually get there. We have no idea if we’re going to get a place or where it’s going to be.’ A slightly sheepish OK comes back.

Maja:

I can now use the foot to walk with, even without the boot. We walk to hampstead heath and sit on a bench just looking. I am particularly affected by lack of sleep in general. Mark seems completely fine. The diet I started yesterday is affecting me kinda bad. I am hungry all the time and feel very dull, and it is not helpful that I couldn’t sleep last night. 

Mark:

Ambjorn, a friend I haven’t seen for over 20 years, gets in touch online today wanting to make a donation to the Diary. He says he’s read the whole thing, absolutely loves it and feels he really should pay something. Wow. I never even knew him that well. He was more a friend of friends, but yeah, you do the hang out thing and get on and all that, and now, here he is. The timing is perfect. His reachout makes it feel a bit like day one of the project as an actual person has got in touch and wants to make a payment into it. That’s real.

Per is delighted today when I call back and tell him I have someone here I would like him to meet. With that we’re on a three way call as Maja says hi. Before I know it they’re chatting like old friends and then then they start speaking together in a language that isn’t English. I interject to say I had no idea either Maja spoke Norwegian or Per Swedish. They both laugh and say that their languages are so close they’re able to speak Norwegian and Swedish respectively and be understood. That’s my thing learned for the day. As we chat, Per says they’re having a barbeque at his place this Saturday and would we like to come? Absolutely. Sounds wonderful. Thankyou very much. Here, I tell him that that’s my last day at the bar and I’m doing the early one so I’ll be done by five. Perfect, he says. I guess I’ll be seeing you guys around seven then. You most certainly will. So that’s my last day at the bar party planned.

London: The Last Two Weeks, days 63 and 64

Day 63

Friday April 23

Maja:

Last night we slept amazingly well. Mark had set an alarm for 7 am since he wanted to get some writing done before he had to go to the bar.

Mark:

I’ve always, always said, ‘to the bar, or at the bar.’ I’ve never called it work, as in, ‘I’ve got to go to work now, or, I was in work when…’ I’ve never seen it as my work, always as just part of what I do, with music and writing being the other parts. So, am I also not at work when I’m doing them? Do I say I was at work when talking about something that happened during a gig? Or a time a phone rang while I was writing? No. So I don’t say ‘at work’ when referring to the bar. Also, the other significant reason for me is that calling it work would make it seem permanent. Which would by definition imply that the other things I do fall into hobby and that thing at the bar, which is hardly the top of of the professional tree, is the thing I really do. It wouldn’t matter if I got right to the top of that particular tree,and yes I’ve had plenty of opportunities to climb that I’ve turned down. Because, well, that’s not what I do. It’s not my work. I’d much rather be somewhere on the rock’n’roll tree.

Maja:

Mark gently wakes me and asks if I’d like to have a coffee or if I’d like to go back to sleep. I look at him and say, ‘What have you done to me?’ He stares at me with big eyes. He has no idea what I’m talking about. ‘Well I want to have tea,’ I say softly. ‘I mean, you’ve made me coffee these last couple of days, but it doesn’t taste as good anymore,’ Mark starts to laugh and so do I. ‘You’ve made me a tea drinker!’ We can’t stop laughing about it. I can’t believe it. Mark has transformed me to proper British person. I drink tea now. Yorkshire tea. Or as I always said, that boring English breakfast tea that I don’t understand why anyone drinks. 

Tea made, and we’re up and about starting our next writing session. We take a look at the funding pool on paypal that I started yesterday for Mark’s diaries. And yes, the promised payment is there. So now we’ve made the first money on our writing projects. This is amazing, and is an important milestone in making them self sufficient. 

Mark is editing my diaries, since we need to get them properly edited to put in a more public forum. In the meantime, I am updating our shared diaries, the words you read right now. 

Day 64

Saturday April 24

My last day at the bar. My last actual day at the bar with a 10am open. And it’s right up there with some of the busiest I’ve ever seen, including some of the deepest days of Christmas. Certainly one of the most booked bars I’ve ever seen as we’re fully booked right up until 8pm. I’ll be gone by the time it calms down as I’m set to finish at five. What really doesn’t help is that one of our most on the ball members of staff, Kitty, comes in with a bad foot. I immediately tell her she can just stay on the bar as much as possible, which leaves me fully in charge of three, maybe even four sections with not a great deal of help – the back and front gardens which really are quite far apart, the restaurant, and the bar area which is, on really busy days, itself three sections. Yes, this is a big one to go out on.

In a rare lull, Kitty asks how I’m feeling about my last day and how I’m feeling about going out and doing our music thing full time in Ireland. I know she wants to hear a lot of adjectives in the ballpark of excited, but I really don’t know how to answer. Is it just too much to think about? The reality not sunk in yet? Or is it just that it’s more natural than anything else, just the next thing I’m doing and I’m thinking why not? Of course, there’s also a hell of a lot of uncertainty. The true reality is that all we’re doing is giving ourselves a chance. We don’t yet have any real prospects of making this thing work financially beyond belief, work ethic and hopefully a little talent and hard won  and hard practiced ability. But I don’t want to say any of those things either. I mumble something a little underwhelming and then duty literally calls both of us as things kick off around us again. Saved by the kitchen bell. 

But this has got me thinking. I really do not know how to feel about any of this. The thing is, it really does feel natural, which is just the most unnatural thing I can think of.

The place is still busy when I finish at 5pm so there are no big goodbyes. I just finish the last thing I was doing and I’m out the door. Back home and I talk to Maja about my inner reaction to being asked about all this. She says she feels exactly the same – doesn’t know how to feel, and also that natural feeling being the most surreal thing of all.

I don’t have time to flop on the bed following this last frantic day at the bar. Instead, we’re up and out again straight away. Off to Per’s for a Filipino barbecue, and where he will meet Maja for the first time.

We arrive and are joyfully greeted by him and his family, and then joyfully taken out to the back garden to join in with the generally eating and drinking thing, the centrepiece being a spectacular spread of fish, shellfish and squid. While we’re taking all this in and everyone’s getting to know Maja, Per says we can stay in the caravan in the garden tonight if we want. Brilliant. That’s made that simple. And in this warm environment as I sit, drink in hand and for the first time really stopped since leaving the house this morning and then leaving the bar an hour or so ago, I’m finally able to take in the fact that barworld really has ended for me. Who knows what may yet transpire, but for now, I really am done with it and facing a new future with Maja somewhere in Ireland.

The caravan we’re to spend the night in is pretty much as big as a conventional caravan can be and has been converted into a wonderful entertaining space complete with Per’s signature karaoke system. And in the front is a large double bedroom where we will sleep.

As festivities die down in the main garden, the three of us retire here for beer, whiskey and karaoke until Per leaves us to it deep into the early hours.

Day 65

Sunday April 25

We don’t emerge from the caravan until 1pm.

As soon as we do, we’re presented with an amazing filipino breakfast of pork, veg and noodles and take it in the garden in the April sun while we talk about our plans that we’re about to get onto tackling today. We say goodbye to Per and our hosts in mid afternoon and, on the bus, we’re online to look at cars. We find a great looking one being advertised in the West End, which is what the main central part of London is known as. Cool. We start a text conversation with the seller and all’s going well and we’re starting to make plans to go, have a look and maybe pick up. All’s left is to ask him exactly where he is. Just outside Bainbridge comes the answer. That’s strange in itself because, once in the West End, the areas are so small, you never refer to yourself as just outside somewhere. Always in somewhere. Intrigued, I look it up. Bainbridge. Glasgow. It’s in the west end of Glasgow. Over 400 miles away. I get back to the guy to tell him of the misunderstanding. I think, even from that distance, we can almost hear each other laughing as we sign off and both wish the other well.

Once we’re settled back home, for the first time we begin to look at houses in Ireland to see what’s available and what kind of budget we could be looking at. We’re looking at countryside Ireland because, first, it’s cheaper than the cities, and second, because we believe that with that we might just be able to find something a little isolated where we could make all the noise we wanted to anytime of the day or night.  

The first one that really looks viable is situated 20 minutes outside the town of Ennis, almost on its own. A three bedroom house for €470 a month in Frure, Lisseycassey. Which is £407. You couldn’t even get a room for that in Ktown for that, no matter how small. To recap, the tiny, just-about-fits-us-both-in room we currently have is £490 a month, and pre Covid it was £550, putting it at €640. The house we’re looking at now is slap bang in the middle of nowhere but by now we’ve decided that if someone offered us an affordable and viable house in Ireland we’d take it without asking where it was.

So if we think of our house as being in the ballpark of €5-600, and budget around €2500 for a car, this medical trial we’re thinking of doing would cover a house for six months, a car, and leave around three months living expenses. And that’s before we begin on the budget we were already looking at. This plan really is starting to come together and to look realistic.

I choose this moment to really drop something on Maja as I have a sudden realisation. ‘Maja, you know we’re talking about songwriting yeah?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Well, I might just have a whole bunch of songs sitting on a computer, The computer’s broken. But the hard drive might just be retrievable.’ Maja sits up with a start. ‘And you’re only mentioning this to me now?’ ‘Er, yeah.’ She laughs in disbelief and says, ‘OK. First thing tomorrow, we’re going into town and seeing if we can get that sorted out.’ If we could, that really would give us a hyperboost. I have no idea how many songs are on there but it’s a lot. We could use them whole, we could adapt them, we could use the musical ideas with lyrics we’ve written since we’ve been together. And that’s a lot of lyrics. Incidentally, this is the computer that I actually discovered was broken while chatting to Maja one time and I said I would just go and start it up and get up some files she was asking about. That was when I discovered it wouldn’t start, and it still hasn’t since.

London: The Last Two Weeks, day 66 to day 78

Day 66

Monday April 26

A trip down into Londontown to see if the files can indeed be retrieved. We find the right kind of shop, the guy has a look at it, and says that yes, this can indeed be done. Brilliant.

Day 68

Wednesday April 28

A call to the computer shop and we discover that the guys have been able to rescue the computer files. They’re still in the process of it though, so we won’t be able to pick them up until tomorrow. That’s absolutely fine. And wonderful news.

Day 69

Thursday April 29

This is the day as we head back into town and pick up the rescued disc containing the songs. This will be a fun project to get on and listen to when we get back.

Before we headed out, we received a call from the hospital that we’ve been confirmed for screening for the trial. This is where they check to see if you’re healthy enough. We’re seeing that as a formality so while we’re out we go shopping for toiletry and other supplies to see us through the two weeks of the trial. 

Day 70

Friday April 30

Mark:

The hospital thing for the trial screening is a bit of a trek, being in the middle of industrial far north London, up past Wembley stadium and a little way off any bus routes, but I’ve done this many times before and so am familiar with how to get there; as well as having come here for the two previous trials, both also included a number of follow-up visits after completion of the actual in-patient part. The beauty of this new trial is that there is only one follow up visit, so it’s two weeks and a bit, then one follow-up week or so later, then all done.

We get there and meet our friendly contact who is delighted to see we’ve made it, then it’s on for the formalities of the checks. For a start, by definition I’ve already been through this process twice, and Maja’s been able to answer yes to all the questions. They just have to make sure of it all then we’re on our way. They split us up into two rooms and we go through the tests. Heart rate, blood pressure, blood samples and a bunch of other stuff. Then I’m told Maja’s all done and I have to wait a while. I wait a long while. As does Maja, and I’m allowed to go and visit her and let her know I have some kind of hold up. What it is, we have no idea. So I go and wait back in my little medical booth. I’m a little alarmed when a doctor different to the one who’s been checking me out comes in and she looks a little serious. She informs me they’ve found some kind of heart defect in my results and I won’t be able to take part in the trial. What now? She pulls out the charts and goes through them with me. Apparently some electrical charge, or period between electrical charges in my heart are too close together. She says that in some people, this can actually be part of their normal heart function and nothing to worry about, but if it’s a new development it could be an issue. Something like that. She says she suspects it’s part of my normal make-up but they can’t be entirely sure and, until they are, I can’t proceed any further. That’s a bit of a balls. It’s suggested that, regardless of trial, I get on this, and we’re also left to decide what to do if I can’t, which means does Maja do it on her own. We’ve already decided it’s both of us or neither of us so are quite clear on that. They also show us some other trials we could do if we miss out on this one, but we’re also clear that we’re kinda on a deadline here and have plans to move to Ireland so again, it’s this trial or none of them. And this isn’t being churlish or missing out on a payday for the sake of it. None of the others coming up pay anything like this one, and the ones that are any decent are spread out over a much longer time frame. No. This is the only one that suits. We talk about this on the way home and while there is the possibility that we could also wait for the next consort group of this particular trial as it moves to its next stage, that’s simply too far off for us to wait around for so that doesn’t work either.

Oh well. We resolve to just see how all this plays out and, when we get home, forget all about it. Bars are of course open again, I’m no longer working in one so we have our evenings clear now, and we have options. With that we head out on what we realise is going to be our first actual date. We’re going to Rosella’s right across the road, run by my good friend Luca. Cheers. 

This really is a quite wonderful restaurant and, unbidden and unpaid by anyone, I’m going to chuck out their website to you. https://rossella.co.uk/ If you ever find yourself in London, or in the vicinity of Kentish Town in general and fancy something Italian, pop in and, if you see him, please tell Luca Mark and Maja sent you.

Now at the end of this entry, I’m going to say all is good with the heart/electrical anomaly thing. I don’t think it would be appropriate to treat such a potentially serious situation as cliffhanger material so I’ll just say here that over the next few days I do get it checked out and it comes back that this is indeed normal for me, so not something to worry about. However, totally understandably, after a few back and forth emails, the hospital says that with apologies, although they were happy to take me before, they’ve decided they still can’t take me on this one as the side effects of the trialed drug are unknown and they are reluctant to take someone with any kind of discrepancy like this. Fair enough and nothing to be done. But that is a massive chunk of money we’re having to say goodbye to.

Day 71

Saturday May 1

I’ve known this for a while but it only really hits me today when I get up sometime before 6am already itching to write. As I start to get down to it, I suddenly realise I potentially have the best job in the world and am setting out to do everything I ever wanted to do. Well really, I’m already doing it and am doing it right now. As a professional journalist, my main strength, the thing I loved doing most and the thing I was quite fortunate to do a fair amount of, was what I called experience writing. That is to go out, experience something and write about it. Beyond and above that, my biggest thing is music. But then, as this whole Diary thing attests, I love to take my musical inspired events and write about them. Today, to fill in a few details from the beginning that I didn’t realise at the time were important, I’m suddenly looking back over what has and is turning out to be the best experience of my life and I’m getting to relive it all again as I write about it.I’m almost jumping about in the kitchen too much to actually be able to sit down and put words on the page. Excuse me. It’s time to get up and go have another jump.

Day 72

Sunday May 2

Wow. Just wow. Today for the first time we go and have a look at what the rescued hard drive has to give to us. I had an idea of what was there, but the sheer scope is even taking me by surprise. And Maja is ready to do all kinds of bad things to me. I’d told her I might just have a few songs lying about. What we discover here is something approaching a hundred songs with well over 50 fully complete and too many sets of lyrics to fully appreciate. But then as we look into it, there’s more. Files within files within files, each one giving up more songs, or more ideas. Choruses, concepts, more ideas, sketches. One file is an actual book I’d kinda forgotten I’d written, or at least forgotten I still had. This was for a book of poetry related to the art collection of a notable artist. We managed to get a book deal for this thing at the time but then the publisher went under, both me and the artist moved onto other projects while we were waiting for this to get picked up by someone else and the whole thing disappeared. Well now we have it as raw material for songwriting and it’s just one piece of treasure among all that we’ve unearthed in this unexpected cave.

We get down to listening and pull out at least 16 songs that could be goers, but by the time we even make it there, there’s still so much more to go through. Oh, Maja is not happy with me, forgetting about this and even very very nearly letting it all just slip away.

Day 74

Tuesday May 4

Just a wonderful wander around central London today and back by 8pm, going through my old songs again. Beer, chill, and a wonderful steak dinner at 11pm. 

Day 75

Wednesday May 5

Maja’s feeling good about her healing broken ankle and it seems we’re starting to look at the final strait in London, or at least we think we can start to think about the next step. We then have a hit of reality as Maja faces up to the wrist surgery she needs on the ganglion that’s been bothering her for so long. Physio hasn’t been helping, it’s only getting more painful, and surgery in Ireland won’t be an option. Not without paying for it. Which won’t be an option. Like so many other things we’ve had to deal with since February, we have no idea how this circle is going to be squared.

Day 78

Saturday May 8

This house searching isn’t exactly going as we expected. We’ve called and emailed quite a few houses all over the country. Because we’re not there and can’t see the places or meet the landlords, we’ve been offering two to three months’ deposit straight up to take a place sight unseen. No dice. So today we just go for it, call a house and offer six months right now. They still say they want to meet us. What the hell is going on? I even have a phone call or two where people are downright confrontational when I try to up the offer to three, and then four months, with one saying, ‘You won’t be getting round me like that now,’ like this is some kind of competition between me and him. I hang up immediately when he says that and turn to Maja saying, ‘I don’t care. I will not deal with a guy like that. No way is someone like that going to be our landlord. I do manage to get one person to give me some time beyond business and he explains to me that demand for houses in Ireland is far outstripping availability, especially in the countryside areas which is where we’re looking. He wishes us good luck but warns me that there are so many people in the running for every rental that comes on the market that it’s going to be tough, maybe even impossible if we’re trying to do it remotely. 

Oh dear. We really thought we could do a deal on the phone, get a house sorted, and then take our time and move there when we were ready. But no. This really isn’t going to be as straightforward as we thought.

London: The Last Two Weeks, day 79

Day 79

Sunday May 9

A wonderful late Sunday morning on Hampstead Heath and for the first time I actually stop and watch a cricket match as Maja’s transfixed by this mad looking game played by men all in white. We’ve just bought ice creams and it seems just too perfect to be able to enjoy them in the sun while taking in this perfect scene of Sundayness. The ground is just off the main walking path a little beyond our entrance to the heath. It’s also behind a line of trees so this enormous playing area is almost concealed from the main thoroughfare. We find a free spot on the grass next to the boundary and settle down for an hour or two in the sun as gentle battle commences in front of us. As for the rules, rather than attempt to explain the intricacies of cricket, the fact that this game could go on for a whole day, and the fact that the highest level of the game can last for five days, I just answer questions as they come up from the action in front of us. How do they score? The two men in the middle run from that end to the other end, and back again if they can, and again if they really think they can. Why aren’t they running now? Because he hit the ball all the way to the edge of the field so that automatically gives them a score of four. And so on. A truly wonderfully lazy activity for a Sunday. On walks around when I’ve seen games happening, I have sometimes stopped and watched from the path for a little while. But this is the first time I’ve ever come in and really taken in a game. We stay for an hour and a half maybe until Maja’s decided she’s seen this thing now and we should carry on with our walk.

Back home and we resume our attempt to find a new one. In another country. And in the country. We’re thinking about budget and the fact that we really do need a house, not an apartment but a house. There’s no way our budget would allow for one in a city centre and most of the ones we’re seeing aren’t even near any towns. That’s fine. We’re thinking small, out of the way place. Maybe with at least one or two local shops so that we don’t have to drive everytime we need a pint of milk. You get the idea. We’re not expecting to be anywhere near anything that might resemble even a small town, but something with a near enough convenience store would be just fine.

We’ve found a place we really like in Mayo on the northern west coast. It’s a big three bedroom place, but because of its isolated location is well within budget. Although we’ve not had much luck with progress, we really can’t believe the size of the places we’re seeing for what we’re looking to pay. I call this house, have a chat with the landlady, and she says, ‘Yes, we can hold it for you.’ Wow. Great. I load up for the next part of the discussion/negotiation then she adds, ‘But if someone comes in the meantime we may have to let them have it.’ What? That’s not holding it. What if we offer to pay right now? ‘Why would you want to do that?’ she asks. What do you care? I think. You’re being offered money right now to give us the place. Six months up front. If anything, this only makes her more suspicious. ‘And you’re in London now?’ Yes. ‘And you want to take it and pay for it now?’ Yes. ‘And what would you be doing that for? Sure you’d have to see the place first.’ Oh here we go again. It’s like she’s trying to persuade us not to give her any money. Surely that’s our decision. I patiently explain that this would mean that we had a place to go to, so we could leave whenever we were ready and just move in comfortably. ‘But in the meantime you’d be paying rent for a place you weren’t living in?’ Yes. ‘What would you be doing that for now?’ Oh, I can’t get through here. ‘We’d have to meet you first, you know,’ she says. Oh dear. This isn’t going anywhere. ‘But we’re in England and are trying to secure a place in Ireland so that we can move there.’ ‘Well maybe you could come and see it before you decide,’ she says. ‘There are a lot of people interested. It isn’t only you.’ This just isn’t working. She then says she’s looking after it for her daughter. So negotiations are going on at a remove here. Never a good way to go. I feel we’re in the middle of a circular conversation so I thank her for her time, say that we may be in touch again and we hang up. 

We realise this just isn’t happening. We’re just going to have to go. People want to do the whole face to face thing rather than do a let on the phone. Fair enough. I totally get that. So that’s what we decide to do. Drive there and just turn up. Get ourselves in situ. I call the lady back, say that OK, we’ll come and try to meet, and she agrees that if we get there and meet her, we might be able to do something. 

But given her total refusal to commit, we accept there’s a possibility the house may no longer be available when we arrive. If that’s the case, we decide we’ll simply make a plan and get something else. What that plan could be we have no idea, but surely we’ll be able to come up with something.

So this is it. We’re going to start tomorrow by beginning the search for a car. Once we have that, it’s just a case of loading it up and leaving. Next stop, our possible house in Ireland. Mayo? 

Casting its shadow over all this is Maja’s upcoming but yet to be booked surgery. We’ve been toying with the idea of her going to Sweden for it, then coming back here, then we go to Ireland. We really don’t like the sound of that, so we come up with this wonderful plan. She books the surgery for something like in three or four weeks. In that time, we move to Ireland, get settled, then we both go to Sweden for Maja’s surgery in the knowledge that we have the place in Ireland to come back to. If, if if, we can get a car tomorrow, we think we can make the move this Tuesday.

With that, we go out to The Camden Head in Islington where we hang out with Alex, the chef and producer/songwriter I’ve played bass with, and his friend, Raul. We’re outside in the beer garden and we also chat with the bar staff as they pass by when they get a moment or two. Prominent among them Tom and Molly. I’ve known Tom years, mainly from Kristoff’s bar The White Hart, but also from The Marquis. And Molly we met at that part here a few weeks ago. When they’re finished, they come and join us and we then tell everyone our wonderful, foolproof plan. We’re going to move to Ireland. On Tuesday. In a car we don’t have to a house we don’t have on a ferry we haven’t booked. They all fall about in hysterics and the sheer audacity and adventure of it. Brilliant, they agree. Right? What could possibly go wrong?

London: The Last Two Weeks, days 80 and 81

Day 80

Monday May 10

I’m up at 6am today. No idea why, just felt like it. So there I am at the kitchen table looking at what cars are on the market. Cris, who leaves for work early every morning, comes down and is surprised to see me already there as he prepares to have breakfast. ‘What are you doing up this early?’ he asks. ‘Looking at what cars we could buy,’ I reply. ‘You want to buy a car?’ He sounds shocked although I remind him, ‘Yeah, we’re hoping to move to Ireland tomorrow.’ He kind of knew this, but is a bit shocked to hear it put in so many words. ‘I’ve been thinking of selling my car,’ he says. Now it’s my turn to be shocked. ‘Would you be interested?’ Hell yes. I know his car very well and me and Maja were both in it when the three of us drove in it for that trip to Crystal Palace a few weeks ago. And I know it very well. I’ve been on many drives with Cris for many reasons. It’s huge. A Mazda Sport 5. A seven seater in which all the back seats can be laid totally flat. Essentially a minivan and way bigger than anything we were thinking of. I’m almost scared to ask how much and can’t believe it when he tells me. Well within budget. Ridiculously within budget. Oh wow. I’ll have to check with Maja of course, but yes. Just yes. This is the car we decided we couldn’t ask to use to move all our stuff out of Sarah’s to here. Now we could be looking at owning it and then using it to move everything we have from here to Ireland. In a bit of a state of disbelief, I go outside just to have a look at it again from a totally different perspective. This could be ours. Really ours. While I’m out there I see Luca who’s also having an early start preparing his restaurant for the day. He comes and says hello and we have a chat about the car and our imminent move to Ireland. ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘So there’s a room coming up in your house?’ Yep. One of the small upstairs ones. Luca knows the house. He’s taken rooms in it before for workers of his restaurant. He says he’s now looking for a room again for a returning worker. A guy called Mike who we know well in the house. He lived with us before, was a great housemate and friend, and is apparently now thinking of coming back to work in the restaurant again. And just as Luca is thinking where he could house him, along comes a room in the very same house. This would work out very well for us; the move has come a bit sudden so we’re not leaving with the requisite month’s notice, meaning the rent really should be paid for this coming month even though we won’t be there, and there is every intention of honouring this. But if we are able to replace ourselves in the room almost immediately, this empty expense disappears. So it’s not even 7am yet and it looks like I’ve solved two of our big issues – a car big enough to move in and very within budget, and a new tenant to take over from us and save the next month’s rent from having to be paid.

I go back inside and ask Cris if I can borrow the car key for a few moments. No problem. With that, I go upstairs and into the room where Maja is sleeping. I gently wake her up and wave the key and fob in her face. She shakes the blurriness from her eyes and what is obviously a car key comes into focus. ‘What the hell is that?’ she asks. ‘That’s not a car key?’ ‘Yep, but not any car key. This is Cris’ car key. He’s said we can have it for a ridiculous price.’ Maja shoots up in disbelief and takes the key in her hand, regarding it in wonder like a precious, fragile treasure. She looks up at me again in something like shock. ‘And there’s more,’ I say. ‘Looks like we’ve got the room sorted as well.’

She says I should go downstairs right now and confirm the sale of the car with Cris. With that I say, ‘We’ve started the move haven’t we?’ 

‘Yes.’

While I was up very early, Maja also has to be up early enough herself for a phone call to check on a date for wrist surgery. This gets booked for June 3, three weeks and three days from today. This means that we now have to be in Sweden a few days before that, so three weeks from today. Which means we definitely have to have a house in Ireland sorted by then and already be moved there so that we can book a return flight to Sweden from Ireland. Oh this would normally be a huge ask, and it really is a huge ask, but mentally, and in real terms, we are already very much on it.

There’s a formality for the car before it can be sold, which is that Cris has to take it for an MOT. He says he can organise this for tomorrow, adding, ‘My worst fear is that I sell you this car without checking and it breaks down on you on the motorway. No way. No way. My reputation is to do things in the right way and of course I want to do that for you.’ This all means that we probably won’t be able to leave until Wednesday now, but yes, he’s obviously right. So now we almost have a car, which means we can make a solid(ish) plan to leave. Just to remind you, it is now Monday. Have I mentioned we still don’t have a house to move to?

Day 81

Tuesday May 11

Mark:

Insurance. Damn. I’d forgotten about insurance for the car. With things developing until close of office hours yesterday, this morning is the first chance we get to have a look at this. Maja begins the process and all of a sudden it looks like being a real thing and it starts to look unrealistic to think we could be leaving tomorrow. 

The insurance becomes a bit of a complicated, involved thing and we’re starting to think we might have to leave the car in Northern Ireland and rely on rentals for the Republic, but Maja discovers a Green Card system that we could apply for which would at least get us on the ground so to speak. Calling around and being recommended from one company to another and researching options becomes a full time project. 

While Maja is on this, I go into total denial of all possibilities of failure or setback and get on with the business of packing. I mean, there’s no point being ready to go and then looking around at all the stuff we have to organise. Might as well get as much in hand as we can. It’s a bit of a fraught day as Maja goes through the contortions of trying to secure insurance and Cris is having the car checked out. Somehow, semi miraculously really, by 5pm, the MOT and insurance stars have aligned and we have a car ready to go and legal for Maja to drive in Ireland. We’re not covered for the UK in terms of any pickup or roadside assistance, but we’ll have it here for just one day for the drive to Liverpool for the ferry to Ireland, so what’s the point?

With all that sorted, we’re truly on it now as Maja goes ahead and books the ferry from Liverpool to Belfast for 10pm tomorrow. She says she’s going to book a cabin so that we’ll at least be able to have a shower on the boat. Afterall, once we’re into unknown territory in Ireland there’s no telling when we’ll be able to have a shower again. Or a comfortable bed. We really are throwing ourselves out into the world here.

Now I have to get on with trying to make sure that doesn’t go as wild and feral as it could. I call the people with the house in Mayo to tell them we’ll be there Thursday morning. So with that commitment to being there, could they please hold it for us now? I speak to the husband/ owner’s father this time who tells me it’s gone. Balls. So now we really are going to Ireland with nowhere to live. We think about getting a tent and just camping where we can, and looking at houses that way. We discuss not getting a house at all this side of Sweden and just camping until then, and then resuming the search when we get back. We really don’t know. This is starting to look like a real adventure with so much unknown as we prepare to step into it. As we’re starting to organise the car for ourselves – cleaning it and such as Cris used it for work in his job in construction – Maja insists I call the house again, this time trying to speak to the lady who seems to know a bit more. She suspects the husband just told me it was gone out of assumption. OK. She was right. I speak to the lady again who says it is still available but that a lot of people are seeing it, but yeah, we can see if we can get there on Thursday and throw our hats in. So much for holding it. This really is starting to feel like a lottery. 

We have a kind airy dreamy delusional not-really-thought-it-through thought of arriving in Ireland on Thursday and then doing nothing but sleeping for two days. But the more likely reality is we’ll arrive in Thursday morning, rush to see the house sometime early afternoon, then have to wait a few days to see if we have it, in the meantime sleeping somewhere we have no idea of in a tent we might just be able to buy on the way. Or a B&B somewhere. Oh. Did I mention, Ireland’s still in Covid induced semi lockdown mode so no hope of getting a B&B there. Probably a tent somewhere then. Or, and we’re quite happy with this idea, if the initial house attempt isn’t successful, we could drive back to Northern Ireland, book into some kind of cheap hotel there and use that as a base from which to go into Ireland during the days to look at places that we’ve secured a viewing for. Oh, there’s seat of the pants, and there’s…this. As you can see, we’re making this all up as we go and we really have no idea. Absolutely none at all. And the clock’s ticking. Our ferry to nowhere leaves in less than 24 hours.

London: The Last Two Weeks, day 82

Day 82

Wednesday May 12

Mark:

Right. Before we get onto moving day, incase you’re coming to this late, or maybe it was so long ago we were writing about this that you’ve forgotten. We’re moving to Ireland because it really is the only place in the world me and Maja can legally live together. Her visa for the UK is only valid for six months – doesn’t have to be six months all in one go, but it is valid for only six months. Bottom line, she can’t legally settle there. Thanks to Brexit. I can’t go and settle anywhere else in Europe either. Thanks to Brexit. We examined other countries around the world and discovered a lot of barriers everywhere we looked, this time thanks to Covid. Yes, this is May 2021 and Covid restrictions are still in place in varying degrees all over the world. But travel and relocating is still OK between the UK and the Republic of Ireland and citizens of both are allowed to live in each others’ countries. And of course, citizens of Europe are allowed to live in the Republic of Ireland. Because it’s Europe. So Maja can live there. So can I. Problem solved. As long as we can get ourselves around all the other problems of getting there from London. Including finding a house, which we still haven’t managed to do. 

6:45am: We wake and see we have an email from an agent we’ve contacted who is up for the six month rent up front thing, but we really don’t like the look of the house he’s proposing for us. Maja also tells me now that, on a whim, she sent an email to a house she saw and is only mentioning to me now. No problem. She shows me the pictures and it really doesn’t look good. She even apologises to me for having made the contact for such a dingy looking place. Again, no problem. We dismiss it and think no more of it until I decide to check out the location. It’s bang in the middle of the country. Maybe we should just remain open on this. Later we get an email from a guy called Adrian replying to Maja’s email. He seems quite downbeat and says the location isn’t good at all for two musicians thinking of moving to Ireland from London. He suggests we try somewhere like Galway instead. Well, thanks for the heads up. We’re really not thinking that hard about this place anyway. But there is still that thing that it’s bang in the middle of the country.

7am: Maja and Cris have completed the paperwork. We now have a car and it is enormous.

While they’re doing that, I’m checking out new houses that have popped up. I email them now and will follow them up later. 

8am: Big news as we receive our Green Card authorisation by email. We are now insured to drive in Ireland.

9am: That paperwork for the car needs printing, as well as the Green Card. I go over to the restaurant to ask Luca if I can use his office to print it. No problem he says. We get on that straight away. 

9.30am: I’m walking across the carpark back to our house, I see a traffic warden three cars away from the car that is now our responsibility. And it’s not supposed to be parked in here. Cris would kind of chance his arm with it, but more often than not park it somewhere else. Today, it is not at that somewhere else. 

I run into the house and into our room. After completing the paperwork, Maja went back to bed and is now fast asleep. I wake her up without hesitation. ‘You need to get up right now,’ I say. ‘A traffic warden is about to hit the car. We rush out, Maja wearing slippers because they were faster to put on than shoes. The traffic warden is inspecting the car next to ours as we jump in and drive off. Maja’s first drive of the car and it’s a getaway drive. 

Me: ‘Are we ever going to have something happen that isn’t dramatic?’ 

Maja: ‘No.’

But the getaway isn’t at all smooth. She’s never driven a car this big before, and when she searches for the biting point in first gear, the revs suddenly go mad and the car makes a huge noise. But she gathers herself, finds the right balance and we ease out of the parking spot and away from the inquisitive warden. Out in the small streets and we just can’t believe the sheer dimensions of this thing. It seems to be far too big for the roads we’re driving on right now. But we get it a few streets away from the house and then stop and take in exactly what we have here. We can sleep in it, and we do exactly that for a 15 or so minute nap. Damn. We have our tent now as well, although it will have all our stuff in it when we get to Ireland so it might not be an immediate accommodation fix.

11am: We get back and Maja does some more cleaning on the car while I get onto house calls. I won’t detail them. It doesn’t go well.

3pm: We’ve finished packing and the car is loaded to the roof. Damn, we had no idea that we really needed something this big. We’ve said our goodbyes and we’re on the road and away. The move is officially on. We still have no final destination. All through the small, slow, winding streets of north London, Maja is learning the car and having trouble with the clutch. She assumes this is just because it’s such a big car and so has a different make-up to the smaller cars she’s used to.

5:30pm: On the motorway and we suddenly feel something bang under the car. We catch a glimpse of whatever it is as it bounces away and we think it’s a shoe.

6pm: We’re following a diversion away from the motorway for a little while which means slowing down and picking up speed at a few junctions and roundabouts. Which means Maja has to use the difficult clutch quite a lot. At a particularly tricky roundabout the rev counter suddenly goes crazy, the engine roars, and the car is filled with a horrible burning smell. Soon after this it starts to lose power. We get back on the motorway and Maja is able to keep it going. Just. I can tell she’s using all the concentration of a racing driver and is in hyper focus mode. While she’s doing that I’m my phone and trying to find mechanics up the road that we could possibly go to. But it’s late. The only one I manage to call and speak to says they’re closing soon so we won’t make it in time from where we are. He says all others will be saying the same thing. Thankyou very much. We’re on our own.

6.50pm: Maja declares that we’re going to try to make a run all the way to the ferry which, if we can keep this speed up, is just under two hours away. With that she gives me a job to do. Keep us on motorways. No junctions, no roundabouts, nothing that could remotely necessitate a stop or even a slow down. As long as she can keep us moving with minimal recourse to the clutch we might just be able to put in some real miles. She doesn’t care how far I have to detour us if that’s what it takes. Just keep us on uninterrupted fast roads. We might just make it to the ferry if we do that. Get this thing on the other side of the water and have it looked at then. The ferry leaves at 10pm and we have to be there for 9. By now I’m watching every mile of the GPS tick off and am watching every minute of the clock tick by. After an hour or so of this, Maja asks, ‘Are you bored?’ ‘I wish I was,’ I reply, and in the middle of this madly dramatic second by second drive we fall into hysterical laughter. I don’t think I’ve ever been less bored by watching miles or minutes go by one at a time. I’m in hyper focus mode too, and am thinking that if we can just keep on, one at a time, we can get there. Looking at Maja now, I realise I really have never seen anyone operating at this level of focus. We have a horrible moment when we have to stop at a toll booth and the car absolutely crawls away, accelerating at a tortuously slow rate. Enough to have cars behind us beeping in frustration. Oh, they have no idea. And their horns do nothing to improve the dark mood in our little world right now. We get to some kind of speed, but it’s clear things are very very weak. As we head round a downhill motorway bend we pick up some encouraging speed, but it’s an illusion. If anything, it feels more like freewheeling. 

8.30pm: We’re 10 minutes away from the ferry. A little more than 10 miles away and we’re starting to believe we might just be able to make it. But then the car starts to slow down. No matter how much Maja pumps on the accelerator, nothing happens. We’re going slower and slower. Soon the decrease starts to increase. Maja reluctantly pulls onto the hard shoulder. Down down goes the speed, as though the brake is being applied. Then we stop. Maja looks at me in resignation, then a little hope as she charges the car again, gets some revs going and we start to pull away. But it’s only a tease. We get a hundred yards or so, never getting above walking pace, and then that’s it. The car, which passed an MOT yesterday, really has gone. This is as far as we’re going to get. It’s dark, it’s raining. We’re on a lonely road. We’re slowly accepting we’re not getting any ferry tonight but that’s not even our biggest problem right now. We have no breakdown cover. We’re totally alone, abandoned on the side of a road somewhere in the north west of England.

Maja looks at me with empty eyes. She’s stunned, mentally exhausted, and almost emotionally broken. And lost. Both geographically and for any idea of what to do next. We’ve been together less than three months and have already been through quite a few crises. But this feels like by far the biggest. I saw an emergency phone a little way back and I’m going to walk to it and see what happens. We normally have pens and notebooks to hand all the time but we’ve somehow managed to neglect that on this drive. All I can find is a pencil and a single piece of paper and frankly, I feel lucky to have found that. And unfortunately, the only thing the hopeful burst of walking pace driving has achieved is to take us further away from the roadside phone. Worse news comes as I open the door and a blast of cold rain is blown in on a harsh, icy wind, instantly destroying what has been a lovely warm, if quite stressful, place until now. Moving day could not be further from fun right now. I jump out into the unforgiving weather and begin the dark, lonely walk back down the wrong direction on the motorway to the phone, wondering what’s going to happen when I pick up and if I’ll actually be able to talk to someone. I am, but it’s not an encouraging conversation. The lady on the other end is sympathetic, but all she can do, she says, is give the numbers of some breakdown companies for me to call round myself. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Reluctantly, I retrieve the paper and pencil from my pocket and do my best to write down the names and numbers she gives me. But the paper is slowly going soggy while also blowing about carelessly as I try to write on it. As soon as I hang up, I get to work calling the numbers as I walk back to the car, buffeted all the way by wind and rain. And it’s a slightly stumbly walk as well because this patch of ground I’m on has not been cultivated for strolling on and it resembles some craggy, alien landscape complete with deep grooves and gashes you could break an ankle in. I go back and forth between a few emergency companies, comparing prices and offers. This process of finding and comparing service providers can be challenging and frustrating enough when sat at a warm kitchen table with a laptop, pen and notebook and with a lovely hot cup of tea steaming away next to you. I can tell you now that it’s a little more challenging and frustrating right now. And I’m nowhere near a kettle. Oh damn. That reminds me. I am writing this from a warm kitchen table and I am very much near a kettle. My mind is right back at that horrible roadside scene but I can’t take my current cuppa tea making facilities for granted. Gonna go get that started now before I plunge back into this little bunch of misery.

Halfway through my calls and my phone rings. It’s a guy called Craig and he introduces himself as being from the RAC. I’d quite liked their offer compared to the others although it is still quite expensive. What makes them the most attractive, apart from the name recognition, is that they offer the furthest towing distance from the scene. I have no idea where we have to get to, so the biggest margin for error we can have, surely the better. Craig on the phone also represents a bird in the hand as opposed to the other companies yet in the bush. I accept his call and offer for help. I also had the awareness to write down the serial number of the standing roadside phone I used, so Craig now knows exactly where we are. Already I’m feeling reassured. I think I’ll say now that I’ve already refused another company, that I won’t name, not least because I can’t remember who they were. This is because the guy I spoke to on the phone sounded so unprofessional, unprepared and spoke with zero level of assurance. He was only a phone operator and front person for the company, but I thought that if that was the first impression they were happy to give, I could do without discovering what any of the other impressions could be. Our predicament is not a place in which to be nice or polite to people you think could make it worse. This is not the time to give someone a chance or benefit of the doubt. As soon as the guy started spluttering and hesitating I hung up. But now I have Craig, who sounds decisive, tough and eager to get on with the job. Before he hangs up, he tells me that we are not to stay with the car. We have to leave it and walk back to the barrier behind the hard shoulder. Will do. I feel as safe and confident in his hands as it’s possible to feel in a situation such as this. Totally independently, I take the decision to agree that all payments will be met and conditions agreed to. By the time I return to Maja in the car, I’m delighted to tell her we have the beginning of a solution, but not so delighted to tell her we have to leave the warmth of the car.

This means walking back over that pitted moonscape which Maja, with her newly healed ankle, is not happy about at all. Once we’ve reached the relative safety of the barrier, all we can do is wait in the dark, cold rain. Somewhere in this we manage to have a really big few laughs but I can’t remember at all what we talked about to make them happen. But even as we’re going through this horribleness I think it’s pretty cool we can have a laugh about it. But then, getting serious as our spirits start to dip, I say, ‘You just never know. Something might just happen out of this that wouldn’t have happened without it.’ 

While we’re waiting, we make the call to the ferry company to tell them what’s happened and to book ourselves on the ferry for tomorrow night. The ferry company happily transfers us onto tomorrow’s crossing with just a small admin charge, but unfortunately we no longer have a cabin. Not ideal, but given the circumstances, at least we’re starting to get the dots joined again. However, as we’re waiting here, one thing dawns on us. We told the guys in Mayo we’d be there tomorrow. Now we won’t be and we know they’re showing it to other people. Oh well, that house has really gone now.

The plan, as much as we can make it now, is to see if Craig can fix the car here, but we know he probably won’t. We’ve missed the ferry anyway so that part is irrelevant. At best we’re going to hope we can get to a garage and they can fix it tomorrow. In the meantime, we’ll be booking ourselves into a hotel somewhere in Liverpool tonight. 

9.20pm: Craig arrives. As I suspected by dealing with him on the phone he’s professional, friendly and quite brilliant really. He can’t tow the car as it’s too heavily loaded, so he winches it onto the back of his truck. Only then does he summon us to come and join him in the front cab. He confirms the callout includes a lift within a 50 mile radius. He’s already called a garage and says we’re going to drive there, leave the car there, then he’s going to drive us to whatever hotel we’re able to book ourselves into.

9.30pm: While Craig is sorting out the car at the side of the road and we know we’re rescued, I call Cris and tell him what’s happened. He point blank refuses to believe this isn’t a wind up, even when I send him a picture of Craig with the car against the flashing blue lights. It’s only our increasingly desperate tone that finally convinces him, at which point he has something of an emotional breakdown and can’t say sorry enough. He really thought the car had been checked enough to be totally solid but something has clearly gone wrong. 

10.20pm: Craig is done and he gestures us to come and join him in the cab. Finally. We’re ready to leave. Our feet are almost numb. We’ve been standing here in the cold, wind and rain for almost two hours. He tells us the clutch has burnt out and that only a garage job will do.

10.30pm: A short drive during which he asks about our story and soon can’t believe what he’s hearing, and we’re at the garage where Craig gets out and prepares to leave the car to be picked up in the morning. While he’s doing that we call hotels. The first one is full. Oh dear. Not good. The second asks why we want a hotel because we’re still in Covid times and you can’t just go and book a hotel apparently. It has to be some kind of emergency. I tell them what’s happened as briefly as I can and they relent. Yes of course we can have a room for the night. Oh wow. Now I call Paul who lives in Warrington, just a short drive from Liverpool. I tell him our story to stunned silence and then see if he fancies coming to meet us somewhere tomorrow, and in doing so, meet Maja properly for the first time. He’s well up for that, although he does sound a note of caution that we shouldn’t expect the car to be fixed tomorrow. Not really what I want to hear because we kind of need it tomorrow, but he does have a hell of a lot more experience of cars and repairs and garages than I do. I decide to engage the denial dial and concentrate on the real outcome which is that bizarrely, we now have plans in Liverpool for tomorrow. By the time Craig comes back we’re able to tell him we have destination. Before setting off to drive us there he gives us the number of the garage he’s just dropped the car off at and tells us to call the mechanic at 8:30 in the morning. Then it’s off to the hotel where we gratefully check in. Despite the uncertainty still ahead of us, we’re so so relieved to be in a warm safe place with clean dry sheets and a shower. Will the car even be fixed tomorrow? We have no idea. We have no idea about anything. But somehow, feeling calm and even joyful – how?- we settle in for the most wonderful night’s sleep.

London: The Last Two Weeks, day 83

Day 83

Thursday May 13

On our first 13th of the month together, which was March, we almost killed a cat. On the 13th of the next month broke her ankle, throwing all our plans into chaos. I wonder what will happen on this one. Surely we’re due a good one, if for no other reason than to balance out yesterday.

We’re up at 8am and at 8:30, just like Craig said, we call the mechanic. He goes against all Paul’s pessimism and promises they will have the car ready today. We’ll see, but right now I’m happy to take his word for it. We chill around for a bit, try to call a few house prospects but get either no answer or no luck, then at 12 we have to check out. In the meantime I call Paul and he says he’ll be here sometime around 4pm.

So at 12, all packed, we leave the hotel and find ourselves out on the street. We’re in a pleasant enough seaside pedestrian area called New Brighton but today is not a day for daytrips in the sun. It’s raining and a little bit chilly. And we’re out in this and homeless. And Covid restrictions are still in place, meaning we can’t even go inside anywhere to warm up. Not a library, not a cafe, not even a bar. Bars are open, but for outside table service only. We do the only thing one can do in such a situation. We go to the seaside promenade shops and get donuts. The kind that are made right there as you order them. They really are quite wonderful and we go and find a bench on a covered bandstand and settle down with our hot sugary paper bag.

This done and we call Cris. Last night, once he’d decided to believe us, and once he’d got over the shock, he offered to pay for the repair of the clutch. We don’t mention the cost of a call-out, or the cost of the hotel. It’s a well meaning, genuine gesture and I know he’s horrified and thought he’d done everything he could to prevent anything bad happening. A clutch repair is no small financial thing so yes, we’ll be grateful to accept a reimbursement for that alone.

Well, we’re on the seaside, so once the donuts are done, we might as well go for a seaside walk. There is an interesting looking fort type building and we think we might go and have a look at that, but closed. Of course it is. So we take a casual walk along the seaside edge and pretend it’s not raining. During this we try to call a few more house calls. Nope. Nothing.

We reach the end of the promenade and we’ve come to one of those newly built shopping arcade areas. The ones with a cinema and bowling and stuff. My phone rings. It’s a guy called Adrian calling from the house Maja emailed late Tuesday night and which she apologised for doing so Wednesday morning. He says he’s had a few viewings but he likes the short story we presented of ourselves on our email to him; all our emails have also included links to our website so people can really see what we’re about. It seems he’s actually gone that extra little bit and bothered to have a look. On the phone now we get into a bit of a chat and I tell him a little of what’s happened and a few encouragingly sympathetic sounds and words come back. I go for it now and say that our ferry leaves at 10 tonight. We’ll be in Northern Ireland around 6 the next morning and can be at his house sometime late morning, however long it takes to drive there. I promise we will absolutely be there. Would he give us a guarantee that the house is ours if we turn up as promised? He mulls this over and I almost break the phone from holding onto it so tight in suspense. Maja can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but she definitely has the gist of it. She’s also looking at me in the highest of anticipations. The silence seems to go on forever and I don’t want to break it and break this guy’s thoughts. I just have to wait to see what comes back. His thinking done and he replies. Yes. Yes I can do that. See you at 12 more or less. Oh thankyou. Thankyou very very much. I hang up and me and Maja hug tightly but not yet in celebration. But finally finally, we do have a destination. And hope. Realistic hope. 

Almost as soon as I hang up on that call Paul calls. He couldn’t have timed it more perfectly. He’s ten minutes away so it’s off to the pub where we’ll meet. We did have a little check on bars in the area on our walk earlier and so have our location all staked out. We tell him what it is and make our way there. 

The three of us all arrive at pretty much the same time and just manage to get the last table under the awning. Yep, it’s still raining. Him and Maja have a big hello then we sit down and have lunch while Paul hears a little more of how we got here, and the big news of our last phone call just a few minutes ago, not that anyone’s completely relaxing just yet.

While we’re here, we have a look at the map and think about where we want to cross into the Republic from Northern Ireland. There’s no hard border but we still want to avoid any stops from anyone. We just don’t want to flaunt that we’re trying to move there, especially given the fact we don’t have an actual address to give, which we know is one of the requirements when entering a country during these Covid times. We are still homeless. So we don’t want to cross the border at the first opportunity, instead we plot a route across Northern Ireland, planning to plunge south deeper into the country.

Final leg planned and we continue our joyous hang and catchup until we become aware it’s painfully close to 5pm and the garage still hasn’t called. I have been in touch sporadically but with no real news. Then at 4.30 my phone rings and it is the mechanic. Our car is ready. Wow. Guys, we have to leave. Like, right now. We finish our teas and cokes and Paul drives us to the garage where the mechanics lead us to the newly repaired car. As we’re doing this, one of them comes out with the broken clutch that was the cause of all our problems yesterday. ‘How far did you say you got on this?’ he asks. ‘A hundred and fifty miles give or take. About two and a half hours.’ All around us are small gasps of wonder and appreciation. I’m almost surprised they don’t break out in applause for Maja’s feat of determination and concentration. ‘It doesn’t seem possible,’ one of them says. Yes, we had a massive rev count somewhere in the detour that started all this, but they are emphatic in pointing out that this clutch is worn out to oblivion. ‘No way this happened in one incident,’ one of them says. ‘This is clear wear over a long period of time. Basically, you guys had no chance.’ Wow. And now it can even be confirmed that even if we had made it to the ferry, with all the stopping and starting and attendant clutch work in such a situation, the car would have just broken down right there in the queue. We were never going to get on that ferry. So really, just as well it stopped us when it did is the conclusion. 

We get in the car now and Maja has a quick go at driving it and is almost hysterical with joy at how different the clutch feels. ‘It’s like driving a brand new car,’ she declares. ‘Thankyou thankyou thankyou.’ While she’s speaking to the guys and they’re still in wonder at that incredible feat of driving, the payment gets processed and we’re ready to be on our way with one last thankyou. As our two car procession leaves the forecourt, they close and lock the gates behind us, while happily waving to us, their day having ended on such a positive note. Wow. We really did just make it in time. There’s still another few hours till we have to be at the dock, so we stop off for another cup of tea or two at a lovely countryside looking bar with a decent sized garden.

About 7pm we say our goodbyes to Paul and head off to the dock. Once on board, Maja takes charge of finding us a spot for the night and finds a lovely sofa type thing against a wall facing the front. This is as good as it gets, she says. Yep. It’s very comfortable and will definitely do.

On February 26, day seven, we each made a list of the things we would have have to accomplish just in order to be able to be together: ‘As an entire list, it’s impossible. Just impossible,’ I wrote at the time. ‘There’s no other word for it. We are totally deluding ourselves if we think we’re going to get that lot ticked off and somehow sail into the sunset.’

And now, here we are on day 83, Thursday May 13, 2021

It’s still daylight when we find our little area and settle down with something of a spark of hope. That hope, of actually having a house to go to, of having a home to go to, lies with a man we have never met, and with whom we have no written agreement. We are leaping into the wide blue yonder with nothing to land our feet on. But when we get to where we’re going, we believe we’ll find something there. When we do get to that house, and if Adrian does keep his word to us, it will mean that after everything we’ve faced up to, including last night’s actual breakdown, we will have ticked off our impossible lists. With rising feelings of almost overwhelming relief, tinged with a bit of realistic caution, we settle down on our sofa and gaze out of the window at the slowly moving city skyline. As the ship leaves the dock, we are literally sailing into the sunset.

The Ireland Diary, day one to day 52

The Ireland Diary

Day one

Friday May 14

Mark:

We kind of have a destination now but we can’t totally bank on the house being kept for us, or anything at all really. With that, Maja is being careful to sleep as much as possible. First, because we do have that drive ahead of us as soon as we get off the ferry, but second because we really have no idea what will happen if we don’t get that house. We have some vague plans, number one on the list at the moment, to drive back to Northern Ireland, find a hotel just inside the border and start a proper on the ground house search from there. Maja does pretty well with getting to sleep, but I don’t. Instead, I go off wandering around the ferry, and then settle down in the flickering darkness of the games arcade and write a whole bunch of lyrics, essentially detailing our story since we left London on Wednesday, up to where we are now, somewhere in the Irish Sea sailing to what, we have no idea.

6:30am and we’re off the ferry and driving into Northern Ireland. First we drive west across the country for a while rather than plunging direct south and the first border from the ferry. We just don’t feel like advertising that we’re attempting to move house into Ireland. As a result, we cross the border at Cavan, going over the tiny motorway bridge over the Woodford River. On our maps system we can see the border approaching. Five hundred metres, four hundred… and we count it down. Then, just like that, in a flash of waterway, we’re across and in Ireland.

It’s just after 10:30am and now we know we’re more or less on schedule to meet Adrian at the house as promised. In high anticipation I call the number. No answer. Oh. OK. Maybe it’s too early. I try again half an hour later. The same. And again when we’re half an hour away. Still no answer. Oh dear. This does not look good. It’s all stopped being fun again and we continue the drive with an increasing feeling of tension.

Just before mid-day we arrive at what we think is the house and park across the road next to a kids’ playpark and take it in. Could this really be the place? On the advert there were no external photos and I did look at a street view and see a detached house on a corner at a crossroads. Could that be the place on offer for the price asked? Didn’t seem right. Now we’re seeing it for real and yes, it’s the same place but I’m still not convinced. But maybe none of this will matter because the phone is still going unanswered. We keep trying for the next hour before reluctantly accepting that the promise wasn’t kept, the house has gone to someone else and this guy just isn’t going to answer to us. That’s it. The worst has happened. We left London with no house to go to, just throwing ourselves to the wind and hoping something would come up on the way. Something kinda did but yeah. That old one. Too good to be true. And here we are. Right in the let down zone.

We were a little mentally prepared for that and this process kicks in now as we begin serious discussions about what to do next. Now we really are thinking about buying that tent and just camping out somewhere while continuing the search. But maybe while looking for a place to do that, we could keep an eye open for any to-let signs. That’s literally what I did in Madrid when I was looking for an apartment one time. Just walked around the city and looking for signs saying se alquile (for rent). As for the tent, this is still lockdown Ireland and the stores are all closed. Or at least non essential places where one would expect to find a tent. We’ll probably end up falling back on the plan to go back to Northern Ireland, checking into a cheap hotel just inside the border and carrying on the search for a house from there, driving into Ireland for viewings until we get somewhere. We’ve arrived and this really is the nightmare scenario. So what do we do as we’re confronted with this face punching reality? After everything we’ve been through to get here. Do we breakdown and cry? Do we have a moment of total despair? Are we in a state of abject resignation? Nope. We realise we’re sitting next to a children’s park. So we decide to go have a play for a few minutes before beginning whatever the next phase of all this is going to be.

We run over and play on the roundabout. Well, it’s more of a bendy stick thing with a base that you spin directly around on. I don’t know what else to call it. We make it go really fast and are screaming in delight, heads thrown right back to the sky. Look at us. Not a care in the world. Just two grown up kids having fun in the park. 

Then the door of the house opens and someone walks out. Towards a car parked right next to the house. I suddenly turn serious and frantic. ‘Stop stop stop. Someone’s come out. but they’re getting in a car.’ No no no. Almost maniacally we jump off the roundabout. Whoever that is, we cannot let them get in that car and drive away. We’re running across the park and calling out. Hello hello. Stop. Over here. Mercifully, the man does stop and turn towards us. Great. At least he’s not going to disappear on us now. Oh this is all getting too much.

Breathlessly we run across the road. ‘Are you Adrian? Are you Adrian? Are you Adrian?’ Talk about making a calm, unruffled first impression. ‘Yes,’ he says calmly. Oh he has no idea. ‘And you must be Mark and Maja.’ Yes Yes. We’ve been calling for hours. ‘Oh,’ he says, almost absent mindedly. What number were you calling. I tell him. I know it cold by now. ‘Sorry about that,’ he says. ‘I left that phone somewhere and have been on a different number today.’ Oh wow oh wow oh wow. For that we almost just bounced ourselves off into the Irish countryside without a clue where to go next. ‘But you’re here now,’ he continues. ‘Do you want to look at the place?’ Oh, do we. Oh yes please. ‘Follow me.’

We walk eagerly into the house and immediately see that it’s not the dark and dingy place depicted in the photographs. Inside it’s really nice and modern looking and really quite spacious. And it smells of paint; Adrian, with a care free smile, tells us he’s been doing the final touches and was still in the process when we arrived. In the front door to a little hallway, then left and into a really big stone floored kitchen/ dining room. Back into the hallway and into the door across from the kitchen and you’re in a similar sized room, this being the front room with a black leather type sofa on one side and the two armchairs facing it, set against the back wall. These two rooms and the hallway make up the entire downstairs, meaning they both have windows front and back OK. Upstairs now, which means back into the kitchen which leads to the stairs. There we find a large double bedroom, directly above and the same size and shape as the kitchen, and then a smaller single bedroom with a skylight instead of a back window and a small bathroom – with a shower but no bath. And there’s a little more. First, there’s a small, very private back garden. Second, you reach this garden through a back door from the kitchen, and by passing a utility room out there containing the washing machine. Then round a tiny little outside passageway you come to another small but open space which contains a large fridge freezer, in addition to the inside fridge. So, even more stuff outside. Two more rooms essentially.

The place is truly perfect.

Yes, we’ll take it. Well, of course we will. What else are we going to do? Go bouncing back out into who knows where? Formalities get arranged, hands are shaken, and Adrian leaves us to it.

We can’t believe it. We live here now. We actually live here. We have totally landed. All the uncertainty and jumps into wide blue yonders, and everything leaving London and arriving in Ireland related. All done done done. Oh wow. Just wow. The relief, the elation. And the house. What a house this truly truly is. It’s perfect. We could not have possibly even come up with anything better. It’s really decent sized. Big even. It’s totally detached, so we can make any noise we want, day or night. 

It is with a huge amount of jubilation, celebration and still a whole lot of disbelief, that we start to unload the car and pile everything into the kitchen in the house in Ireland in which we now live. I have only two words. In. Credible.

It really is very special when, ridiculously early for us, we have a shower and then head off to bed. Oh. Oh, oh. And bed. And to have a shower as well. It’s almost too much. When, as late as 1pm today, we had nothing. And now here we are. We really still can’t take it in.

We’ve said it many many times, but surely this is the biggest.

What. A. Day.

Day two

Saturday May 15

Mark:

We were saying that when we got to Ireland we would spend two days doing absolutely nothing. And here we are. Do not expect much to happen in these next few days.

When we wake up, we can’t quite believe where we are. We live here now. I go down to look at the kitchen from the stairs, as they have a left turn at the bottom and then lead into it. I stand there in wonder, just taking in the scene of this fantastic and large space. Later, we get on internet map stuff and check out the local area a bit more closely using the satellite images. We’re in the centre of an actual town and directly behind the main high street. We hadn’t noticed that before; of all the other houses we were looking at, nothing that we saw in our budget was within walking distance of more than a single local shop. We’ve found a place with an actual high street. Alright, not that big a high street, but a high street nonetheless. Having come from almost central London, it seems a mad thing to say, but we can’t believe that round the corner, in this town in which we now live, there are two supermarkets. Two. They don’t look like they’re that big but…

We count seven or maybe eight pubs; as they’re all still closed due to Covid, we’re not sure which ones will be opening again, but still. And all the little things you could possibly want for when things do open up again. Cafes, takeaways, coffee shops, butchers, a very big looking hardware store – a must for anyone in a new place. And so much more. We really can’t take this in. A quick check shows that the population of the town is around 3,500.

As for location, oh it couldn’t be better for anyone looking to travel and play around Ireland like we are. We are right in the centre of the country. And I mean the centre. We’re the only house on a four road crossroads and look at a map shows that this is the most central crossroads in the country, meaning that we are very possibly living in the actual most central house in the entire country. On the whole island of Ireland. A touch of research bears this out. The actual centre is in a place called Adamstown, just 15 minutes north of here. But ours is the most prominent crossroads in the general area, so yeah, we have a good bit of a claim that our brand new house is the most central house in Ireland.

But back to practicalities, Dublin is just an hour or so to the east, Galway on the west coast is also an hour away, and just about anywhere in the whole rest of the country can be reached by car in three hours or less. And another look around the map shows us that just 10 minutes or so away we have Tullamore which is a pretty decent sized town, and little over 20 minutes away, we have Athlone, an even bigger town. Population check again here. Tullamore is just over 14,000 while Athlone is around 22,000. Comparisons. The population of the Republic of Ireland is just under five million, while the population of London is around nine million, with just little Kentish Town holding around 14,000.

Our own mental checklist of what we wanted of an ideal house and location wasn’t as comprehensive as what we’re looking at here. It ticks more boxes than we’d even thought of.

Day three

Sunday May 16

Mark:

We get on things today, cleaning the house a lot and really getting to organising, especially the room that will become the studio. This is the room on the ground floor that most people would consider to be the living room.

We also break down the past week. It went like this and it really doesn’t seem possible.

Monday: 6am, agree to buy a car from Cris

Tuesday: Insure car and book ferry for the next day.

Wednesday: Trying but failing to get house sorted, start packing by 12pm, leave at 3. Breaking down and missing the ferry.

Thursday: Meeting Paul and ferry that night

Friday: Arrive in Ireland, drive through the country, see the house and take it there and then.

So, from a standing start, with absolutely nothing in place, we organised and moved house – to another country, in five days.

Day four

Monday May 17

Mark:

Back on it today musically as I’m downstairs in the studio practicing bass by going through the Players Path tracks on Scott’s Bass Lessons.

And today, Maja gets her surgery confirmed for June 3

This gives us a bit more time than we thought we would have, and it was this imminent surgery of course that put so much pressure on us having to leave London and get to Ireland to get a house sorted out before having to go to Sweden. We’ve got the absolutely biggest thing done and out of the way now, and now Maja has a date for the next thing. So can start to plan and look forwards.

Day five

Tuesday May 18

Mark:

Now dates have been confirmed, Maja books the tickets for Sweden. We leave on the evening of Sunday May 30.

The timing of this is quite mad because way back when Maja was booking her ticket to come to London she had to give a return date because of the whole Brexit thing. She totally arbitrarily chose June 1. Well, given the timing of these flights, and the slight time difference, we’ll be arriving in Sweden from Ireland just after midnight as the calendar ticks into May 31. 

Day seven

Thursday May 20

A total crash today. Just exhausted. This has been happening quite a lot this week as we’ve woken with plans to organise this or that, had something to eat, and then just crashed. But today is particularly spectacular. Everyday so far we’ve been up early, sometimes by 6am or even earlier. Today Maja is up by 9 and in the studio playing, but Mark doesn’t even begin to emerge until 11:30.

Day nine

Saturday May 22

Mark:

The studio is looking really cool now!! And we’re starting to get the house in really good shape regarding total cleaning and organising. It’s beginning to look like a place to really call home now.

With this, we’re starting to think more about music, especially Maja, who is starting to play guitar more and more, saying, I think me and the guitar are going to be friends.

With the studio in good shape, we spend the evening in it listening to my songs which Maja has compiled. There are quite a few in here that could form the basis of any musical plans we have when we start to get properly on that.

Back and listening to the tracks compiled by Maja.

The house is now more or less ready and a lot of the settling in work is done, so now thoughts can turn to Sweden, which is now just over a week away. With that, thoughts turn to which song, or songs we’re going to work on from the compiled tracks. Although we’re calling ourselves a musical duo, we still have nothing we can actually play. We don’t want to go to Sweden, tell people we’re in Ireland pursuing music, and have nothing that we can play.

Day 12

Tuesday May 25

Over the past few days we’ve got into trying to play a few of my old songs. We got the list down to five from the 50 or so we have. Top of that list is Can I Fly and we’ve started tinkering with it to get it to a key Maja can sing it in, and then maybe adding a few more bits and pieces. It’s not quite coming together as quickly as we thought it would. 

Day 13

Wednesday May 26

As I’ve been working through my SBL Player’s Path course, Maja has been working through her own online singing course that she signed up to. We both have a look at that today and really get into it together. Well, I intend to be doing some backing vocals, so I need to get in shape here as well. 

Today becomes a bit more significant when we confirm that we now have a place to stay in Sweden as Maja’s brother says he won’t be at his apartment for quite a while, so we can have it while we’re there. 

Day 15

Friday May 28

It’s been a breathless and momentous couple of weeks, and now we’re saying goodbye to our new home for a while as we head to Stockholm for Maja to have her surgery, go through the full recovery process, and then tie up all the loose ends from when she left for what she thought would be a few weeks in London.

Ireland is still in lockdown mode, bars are still closed, and traveling is still a bit tricky. But because Maja is going for surgery, I’m able to accompany her on this trip. We get to Dublin airport and are met with the most surreal sight. Not a single person is waiting to get through security when we arrive. And it’s barely more inhabited on the other side. This really is the strangest of travel experiences and it’s singular bizarreness is a quite fitting end to what has been a ridiculous up and down adventure ever since we first met at Heathrow all those hundreds of years back on February 19. Really only a little more than three months ago. It just doesn’t seem possible.

Stockholm, May 30 to 27 July 

What to write about what becomes a two month stay in Sweden? Not much really. Family stuff and Maja tying up some loose ends left over from when she traveled to London. And the minor wrist operation which was the reason we came in the first place.

Music really doesn’t happen as much as we thought it was going to and that does become a bit of a frustration. We try, but it never really feels right and somehow we just never quite manage to capture any momentum. There are probably simply too many other emotions and general weights in the air, so Maja gets on with her things and Mark helps out where he can while basically just trying to keep up with music practice and maybe start to develop a little as a guitar player. Maja joins in this from time to time and some musical advancement does occur but it’s really just a time of treading water a little and trying to get things in order.

Towards the end of July and after what has been a very hot summer with some lovely day trips and beach trips as we’ve made the most of our time here, it’s time to head home to Ireland. Because yes, it really has started to feel like that, Maja even lamenting that she already misses the rain. And together, we have visions of the place we’ve only barely lived in for two weeks. Oh how we want to get back to it and start to explore what we could become. For whatever mysterious reason, we just haven’t been able to do that here. We can only hope that once we’re in our own space with our own studio and our own time, we can start to find our own sound, our own songs and our own music. 

The Second Ireland Diary

Day one

Wednesday July 28 2021

Maja:

The morning is spent packing as we finally prepare to leave Stockholm after what has somehow managed to become a two month visit.

We’re bringing with us three suitcases, a bass case containing my Fender P bass, and carry on luggage. It is a really heavy load. At the airport we discover we have overpacked the suitcases and have to get what we can into our carry-ons. We manage to get it all down to 23 kg, 23 kg and 28 kg. With the allowed limit per suitcase at 23, this means one extra fee of 450kr – around €45, which is great.

Mark:

Brilliant, but in the panic pack we keep out the biggest shoes for me, a pair of Doc Martens. It’s only now as we begin our walk to the terminal that I discover that they really are too small for me. I struggle for a while but it is too much and I end up having to take them off and hustle to the gate in my socks. Well, at least we’re on a smooth airport floor and not outdoor gravel but it still isn’t much fun and just a little undignified. This is how I leave Sweden.

Maja:

Arriving at Dublin it’s two buses to get to Heuston, the central train station. Between changes we have to struggle with the weight of all our luggage. Not a fun walk. Arriving at the station we have a nasty surprise. I checked train timetables last Sunday and saw there was a train leaving for Galway at 20:30, which would stop off at Clara. Great, we thought. What we didn’t see was that that train was only departing on Sundays. The rest of the week the last train leaves at 19:30. We’ve arrived at 19:50, missing it by just 20 minutes. What train has its latest departure on a Sunday? But a more important question is how in the world are we going to make it home now? Should we take a taxi? That costs 200 euro from here. No way. But a hotel will probably be the same price anyway, so maybe yes way. 

The customer service guy says there are no more trains even going our direction today so it really does look like taxi or hotel, so probably taxi. But then we find another station attendant who comes up with a town called Portarlington which is at least somewhat closer to home, and there is a train departing at 21:05, in 45 minutes. Great. That’s our new plan. Train there then a much cheaper taxi than expected to home. We have dinner at the burger place in the station, only managing that just before they close. Then it’s time to go catch that train to Portarlington. On the train I search like crazy for any taxi we can take. 

Just as I find a taxi company my internet connection dies. I’m crushed, and tired and exhausted and irate and all kinds of bad emotions, and it just seems like we won’t be able to get home tonight. Mark is equally crushed. After a little while we must pass through an internet wifi spot and the number suddenly becomes visible again. Mark writes it down quickly before it disappears again, and calls them up. And he is able to get us a taxi! The relief is immense! We’re on our way home now. The taxi driver will wait for us at the station, and we will be with him a little after 10pm. Arriving, we have to carry all our luggage across the bridge to the other platform to get to the exit gate. Which we discover is locked. It looks like we’ve made it this far only to get accidentally locked in a train station for the night. I feel panic coming on as we try to open the gate. Maybe a shout of despair escapes me because at the end of the platform a man suddenly appears and calls out that it’s possible to exit through where he is. We walk over there and see that there is a piece of the fence missing. Through this we’re able to walk out to the parking lot. There we find our taxi driver waiting, but with an ordinary sized car. Oh dear. Yet another challenge. How in the world will we fit everything in there?

So we start to tetris up the car, and eventually do manage to fit everything in with Mark squeezed in the back seat, half covered by the bass case. It’s really handy that he is so small. I sit down in the front seat, and we’re finally able to start the last part of our journey home. Home. 

The drive takes 40 minutes, and it’s hard to know what to speak about. We’re both exhausted beyond, and the driver has a little bit of a hard time with small talk as well. So mainly, we just enjoy the fact that we will finally reach home soon. 

Walking in, and dropping all our things in the kitchen we both feel this incredible sense of relief. We’re finally home. And it’s so nice here. Then, as we look through the place, we see we have everything we need. We really can’t believe how well stocked up it all is. It really feels as though the elves came and did a total number on the place, but of course the elves were us. Two months ago. Thankyou to us of two months ago. Courtesy of our elvish selves we even have plenty of cold beer in the fridge so we pour ourselves one pint of Guinness each. ‘Cheers Mark. Thank you for coming to Sweden with me, but I am so glad we’re back home now.’

We sit in the kitchen, drinking our pints silently, much like we did on that epic first day when we arrived from London. We’re both too tired to really say anything. It’s a moment of celebration, but equally a moment for us both to start to heal our wounds. Soul and body are both exhausted beyond, and there is no way for us to be alert right now. We finish the pint without saying many words beyond faint expressions of the immense relief to be back home, and then we go back to bed. 

I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow. 

Day three

Friday July 30

Maja:

How can you wake up and still be so tired? I don’t get it. And Mark is completely gone too, and he is probably feeling it a little bit more because he had his first Covid vaccine yesterday. I feel tired too, but I somehow also feel absolutely energetic and want to do something. But I am too tired to really want to do anything. What a dilemma. Anyways, waking up I just feel like I need to enjoy our music room a little bit so I leave Mark in bed and go down to play some guitar. It’s good to get my hands on an instrument. I haven’t been able to do that in a while. I practice some chords, and then just some power chords. I’m not really mindful of playing any songs, since I literally have no repertoire, but I know a bunch of music theory and some chords and how to groove. So I am able to make some nice sounding rhythms out of it. Then it’s back to bed to rest some more. There really isn’t much more to today than that.

Day six

Monday August 2

Today is the first day we’ve both really felt awake since we got back. So for the first time since we moved here we decide to go out and have a proper look at this town we’re living in. The Covid thing has moved on a little since we’ve been away and places have started opening again. Pubs in Ireland opened two days before we arrived. But we forget that it’s a bank holiday so all the shops are still closed. We still manage to have a decent look around. It doesn’t take that long. It really is a small town. We count nine pubs but only four look like they’ve opened. Some look like they might not reopen at all. Maybe they didn’t make it through the lockdown period, or maybe they were closed before even then. There’s no way of telling. In any case, with Mark only just having started his vaccine cycle, it will be a while before we can go into any of them and properly start socialising and meeting people. 

We can still see that we really have landed in a good looking town. It has everything you could ask for given how we were looking for a countryside place for a cheaper house so we could make noise and do our thing.

Day seven

Tuesday August 3

With the town now starting to open up even more, we’re delighted to discover the local library, which is right across the road from us. Oh, the little pleasures. Things like this really do make the difference. Now we both have library cards. It feels a little more like arriving.

Day nine

Thursday August 5 2021

Maja:

I wake up at 8 AM, seeing a message from a former colleague. That’s very unusual for me, but I am happy that he got in touch with me. It seems like something’s happened at the company I used to work at, and we take that excuse to have a catchup on the phone. I call him up immediately, and we chat about this, that and the other for about two hours. It’s really cool to hear what’s happened at work since I left, and to hear what he has been up to. But it’s also sad, since these kind of catch ups are usually prompted by some kind of problems happening. I am also able to tell him what I’ve been up to, which is refreshing. It’s always nice to have a friendly ear that listens on the other side, it really means a lot.

So I’m up and alert at 10am and go down to the studio where I find Mark equally alert, doing his morning stretches. ‘Hey, Mark. I feel like doing something… ’

‘Yeah, me too. What do you want to do?’

‘I’d really like us to get to music now. To actually do some of the things that have been bugging us for ages now.’

Mark lights up.

Mark:

It really has been weighing on us so much that for one reason or another we haven’t been really able to do any music. It’s like you know, when you fall out of practise; for every day that you don’t touch your instrument it just gets harder to pick it up and before you know it, weeks then months have gone by and you’ve almost forgotten how to even play the thing.

Maja:

Yes. This is kind of where we are. At our stage right now, it feels almost impossible to know where to really start. In the studio we start to look for the lyrics of the songs Mark wrote a long time ago. We have a couple of printouts, and we’ve been talking about working on a song called Wide Blue Yonder.

I start up by doing some vocal warmups, singing along to a video on my computer, and I hear Mark sing along next to me while he does some runs of his guitar. It’s quite hard to get back to singing, I haven’t been doing any singing whatsoever in a while now, so I feel like I am losing it. It doesn’t feel comfortable hitting low or high pitches and my voice almost feels hoarse. It really isn’t a good sign when you’re supposed to practise the songs to make them performance ready. And we’ve maybe not been approaching things in the best way. For example, when we were in Ireland last, we focused way too long on trying to play the song Can I Fly which I never was able to sing comfortably no matter how much we altered it. I mean, I am able to sing it, but it doesn’t feel comfortable and it really demands too much from my vocals leaving me feeling tired and hoarse afterwards. So what we’ve realised is that having overworked and rewritten and rewritten that song, we haven’t gotten really anywhere, and a lot of frustration has been built up over not nailing that one song.

So today we decide to change our approach. We’re going to start on a new song, see how it feels and not spend too much time on it. Give the song a go, and then we can continue working on it later if we like it. In between we’ll also try a few others, so we can find something that works for us and also feel like we’re working through different parts of our first potential repertoire. It’s a strategy that we hope will help us reach a set much quicker, and also save us from frustration when things prove to be hard. I’m not a professional level singer just yet. I am still learning the ropes so we have to adapt to that. We’re not going to be an act at all if I’m not able to sing our songs.

So Wide Blue Yonder it is to get things started. It’s a song that Mark has had recorded professionally and I’ve it loads of times, so I am fairly comfortable with how the feel of the song should be. Just as we’ve decided all this, the rain starts pouring down. It’s absolutely torrental. We suddenly abandon our as yet begun session and run up to our bedroom and sit down on the little cozy window sitting area we’ve made, looking out on our crossroads, watching the rain clash with the ground. It hits so hard,it splashes up several inches. Water starts to collect in the lower parts on the road, and it’s soothing to watch. Mark says to me, wait right here, and runs down. He comes straight back up bringing the lyrics and the guitar. And he sits down on the bed, holding the guitar ready to play and looks at me slyly. Let’s just go for it.

It’s hard. There’s no way around it and I can’t express it in any other way. It’s really hard work. I try to sing, and Mark stops me. ‘No that pitch is wrong, it should be like this. ‘ Or like this: ‘No, you need to take a breath here, and shorten the tone, let the words get more space.’ Things of that character. All. The. Time. 

It’s quite frustrating since as soon as I start I get shut down immediately, and it is really playing with my confidence in a bad way. But the great part with this is that I’m never let down. I’m never left alone to just guess how it should be. He has a vision, and he helps and guides me every step of the way to reach it. It’s really hard, but it is the right way to do it. I’m frustrated about it, but at the same time grateful. This is the way it has to be done. I just have to do it, and we are doing it.

The session goes by with a combined feeling of frustration and relief over finally getting somewhere decent. It’s not like we reach a perfect state of anything, and Mark’s constant critique is hard to handle. But what that really means, is that when he says that anything is OK, it’s performance ready. It’s harsh, but we’re able to feel that we’re getting somewhere. And it’s great to know that my voice is good. And at times, I’m even doing good parts of the song. It’s really different to work with an experienced songwriter. 

I’m really glad we’re taking the time to really work on this. We have longed for this so much but have never been able to really get to it. The ‘not getting to it’ has eaten on both of our confidences. After finishing our session we realise that we’ve been at it for nearly three hours. That’s incredible. We kind of drop down on the bed afterwards and look at the clouds racing over the sky through our skylight. It’s amazing what we did just now. We almost have Wide Blue Yonder, and we sang through Can I Fly again as well. It’s amazing to have finally started again. Or as we agree upon, finally started for the first time. We’ve been wanting to get to it for so long, but not really been able to. We’ve only really dabbled, and never truly got anywhere. So today feels like the real beginning of our project. It’s devastating that such a long time has gone by, but that can’t be helped. Now is everything we have, and we finally have momentum. 

We go back down to the studio after resting a bit and I start to look for the lyrics of the songs Mark wrote a long time ago. I have them on my computer, and we listen a bit to the rough home demos he has of them as I just print out every song that feels relevant for now. Which is a list of songs which Mark practised the guitar on while I was fixing with moving and divorce errands in Sweden. We need to have a list with things we can just attack so we don’t lose momentum. We can’t lose it again. I print out 14 songs, which I bluetack to the wall so they’re visible and ready to hand. It’s great to have what you’re working on visible. It isn’t really enough to have it on the computer.

This time, we have prepared the PA with a microphone for me. It’s good to get used to it, and using the PA means I don’t have to sing so loudly, which will save my voice so we can work more. 

Off we start, and I look at the lyrics in front of me. ‘I wanna give When I’m With You a shot,’ I say

‘Sure.’ Mark grabs the guitar and off we go. It’s just impossible. No matter what key we choose, when the verse sounds good, the chorus is off, and when we get the chorus to work, we discover we’re in the wrong key to be able to sing the verse. We soon stop and go for the next song. Run From Our Hearts, and it’s promising. It’s a hard song, a lot of timings that need perfection and it’s vocally demanding. Mark has to really think about how he wants to show it to me, how we should alter it. We work on that song in different keys, and I feel that using the PA makes it so much easier to sing prettier vocals, which this song demands. It’s really fun to work on this song. Frustrating when I don’t get it, but with the proper guidance Mark gives me, it really feels OK. Another two hours or so and our focus starts to drop. We’ve been able to get the first verse and the chorus to a good place. Wonderful progress and a great start off our project. 

We go to bed tired and happy.

Day 10 

Friday August 6

Mark:

The fence in our back garden was taken down while we were away. Which means the whole back area is now open to us. Which means we now have a river at the bottom of the garden. And we also have a huge garden in an old mill site containing the ruins of two large mill buildings. It’s mad to just be able to go out and walk around and contemplate hanging out here in the mornings, or whenever. A spectacular place to go, sit and have a cup of tea.

Maja gets her second Covid vaccination booked for Monday. I have to wait a little longer. Until we get this properly sorted, we won’t be able to play live at all, although to be fair, we’re still quite a long way off being able to do that anyway.

But we are on it, starting today’s session by working on We Run From Our Hearts, a song I was asked to write for an artist in Brazil way back in 2008 just as I was getting ready to move from Cork to Madrid. This song was begun in one city and finished in the other. Nothing came from it but it was still cool to be asked and I got what I thought was a really good song out of it.

As we get to it today, we totally rewrite the breakout section, meaning it’s at least a semi current song for us now as it has new stuff in it we’ve just created. Can I Fly did that too and I’m starting to think that as we continue to get to my back catalogue, other songs there could get the same treatment, hopefully improving them and also bringing them into whatever sound it is we end up making. Right now we’re very much groping but we do have a whole body of material from which to grope with which is a really great start to have. If nothing else, we don’t have to sit around struggling to write songs, forcing them out or waiting for inspiration to strike. No, we have a whole list to just dip in, see what we pull out, then see what we do with it. As it is now with We Run From Our Hearts. This is the first time we manage to put together a full version of a song that we’re at least kinda happy with. It’s still very rough but that’s OK.

We do the same later with Breakthrough, a song I actually managed to get on Irish national radio all the way back when this was a newie. That would have been around 2001/2002. Damn. Twenty years ago. So it’s a very very old song. But apart from friends of the time, no-one really knows it which makes it a new song. We manage a full run through of this one today as well. Between that, We Run From Our Hearts, and general song exploration, we’ve been in and around the studio all day.

Also, since we’ve got back, as well as the two kinda completed songs just mentioned, we’ve also put real work into Wide Blue Yonder, When I’m With You and Can I Fly, which of course we worked on before Sweden, and a little while we were there. We might just be starting to inch off the ground here. OK. Maybe not. But hopefully I can say we are at least now taxi-ing with intent.

Day 12

Sunday August 8

We don’t do much today, and yesterday’s efforts just seemed to lead to a lot of dead-ends through frustratingly unproductive sessions. The same is happening today. We’re pushing the cart but we’re just not getting anywhere. We’ve been pushing hard this past week and we have to admit it’s caught up with us a bit. 

So we decide to develop things physically instead. We go out and buy a big screen which will be better for studio and production work rather than trying to stare at a small laptop. When we get back, we go to work setting up the studio, with this new screen as something of a centrepiece. When we’re done, it looks like we have a respectable looking studio. Brilliant. But that’s it for us today. No attempt at any further practice.

Day 13

Monday August 9

Maja gets her second vaccine, and we’re straight back home. Our small green shoots of momentum may take a hit here as the vaccine gets a hold and knocks her out for a few days, but before that happens, we’re right back on it again. A one hour session on Breakthrough really is a bit of a breakthrough as it produces our best work and sound yet. The song feels almost complete after that as we tinker with long established parts and it starts get get moulded into something that might just sound like us. As yet, we still have no idea what that is.

Like We Run From Our Hearts, Breakthrough is another song that straddles countries. I started writing it while living in Orpington, a town just inside the very outer edge of London. So outer, in fact, that it wasn’t even a part of London at the time. Soon after beginning this song I’d made the move to Cork where I’d been invited to become a feature editor on the Evening Echo after being recommended by a London headhunter consulting for them. So Breakthough began in Orpington and was completed in Cork, going through a few versions and rewrites before it became the first song recorded by what would become my own Cork band, Fly On The Wall, which began with just myself and my friend Aibhlin, who I met at Fred Zepellins’ open mic night. A night I actually ended up running after I’d been in Cork a year or so.

Me and Aibhlin recorded that song, along with Can I Fly. RTE had a national radio office in Cork and the DJs were quite accessible and relatively easy to get hold of, plus I was in the media myself which made it even easier. I got these songs to John Creedon who had the mid afternoon show on RTE Radio 1, and he gave Breakthrough it’s first ever radio play, putting it on immediately after the midday news bulletin. John Creedon predicted big things for us as the song played out, and then soon after, 96FM, the city’s leading music station, added us to their playlist. Then we got a record deal. With a subsidiary of a major. But nothing happened. We just didn’t push our tiny opening enough. We tried to get a band together around ourselves but just couldn’t really get any of the lineups to work. And that version of Fly On The Wall petered out. But here we are again with Breakthrough being the first song of our potential repertoire. The first song we might actually be able to perform for people.

Later we go out for a walk and end up on a kind of date, sitting on a bench overlooking Clara’s green, with chips, curry and beer. Here we work on some of the vocal aspects of Breakthrough as we continue to polish what we have.

When we get back home we go straight into the studio. I pick up the guitar, smash through a few chords, just messing really, then some lyrics and something of a melody start to fall out of me. When I take a toilet break, I ask Maja to see if she could pick up where I’ve left off with lyrics. She does, and when I return we realise we’ve really got a hold of something here and we just keep hammering it out. All the time we record what we’re doing so that ideas can be found again but we really just keep going. Exactly an hour after I first picked up the guitar in here and started blasting those chords, All Kinds Of Wonderful is finished. We didn’t even sit down with a concept or a single lyrical idea. Now we’re sitting with a whole new song in our hands. The first full song we’ve written together and I feel tremendous relief at that, just the fact that something complete and new has finally been created. I didn’t write it on my own, but this is my first song in over seven years, the last one written sometime in the spring of 2014 when I essentially gave up on trying to be a songwriter and decided to become a professional bass player instead. As with anything new from the creative process, this might prove to be no good at all, but just to have a new song feels massive. I am giddy with joy about it.

Today really has been a breakthrough.

Day 14 

Tuesday August 10

After last night’s burst of activity, the vaccine catches up with Maja. She spends all day in bed and I spend all day taking care of her. But we have a new song. We have our first very own brand new song. I still can’t believe it. We’re also starting to think it might not be as finished as we might have thought, but that’s absolutely fine.

Day 16

Thursday August 12

We return to working on All Kinds Of Wonderful, trying to sort out the bridge. This never felt quite nailed. Late night, we struggle with one of the verses, trying so many different variations of one line that just don’t work. Then Maja comes up with an idea while Mark is the shower and that’s it. 

Day 17
Friday August 13

Mark:

I’m up early. Not long after 7am. I’m straight to it in the studio, working on All Kinds Of Wonderful for two hours, during which I fix the bridge and add an ending. Then Maja comes down. I play her where I am, and we then decide to take a break from this and go out and discover the country a little. This leads us to a drive out to Portlick Millennium Forest, which Maja has discovered online this morning.

What most people do when arriving at a beauty spot is stop the car, get out and start exploring. We don’t do that. When we stop, I reach behind me and pull out the book containing the lyrics to All Kinds Of Wonderful. There’s one little piece I still don’t feel right with and we go over it now, basically songwriting while sitting in the front seats of a stationary car, haggling over a single word here and there. We do this for about an hour until we feel we really have it, changing a few more bits while we’re at it. It might have taken a single hour to feel like we had a song back at the beginning, but it’s taken days and hours and hours to really feel like it could be considered something even nearing complete. 

We’re now ready to go out into the forest and we discover it to be a truly magical place, complete with a fairy walk designed, it appears, by local school children, with signposts and little fairy houses and ornamental displays hanging from trees. Just a totally new experience. Then we come to a clearing which contains the ruins of a huge house. Nothing left but the first metre or so of perimeter wall and some vague outline of where rooms might have been. In the same clearing is a rope swing and of course we go and make the most of that. This whole little secret area could be a great video location. We store it in the mental bank. This is also a walk that we could return to again and again.

Back home and we hit the studio again for a five hour session. This takes in Breakthrough, When I’m With You which comes together very quickly after our painful earlier experiences with it, and of course All Kinds Of Wonderful. Then, over dinner we continue listening to other songs from my back catalogue to see what more can be reconnected with or brought out for us to play with and incorporate. Once again we marvel at how I’d almost let the entirety of this songwriting trove disappear as it sat under a bed in London on a broken computer until Maja came along.

Then, on the computer we’re listening to it all from now, I go on a bit of an impromptu explore and discover a hidden file containing a whole bunch of lyrics and seven more completed songs. Seeing these now I’m like, ‘Oh yes, of course.’ But they’d evaded my memory totally until now.

Day 18

Saturday August 14

We get All Kinds Of Wonderful somewhat finished. We thought it was a full, new song on Monday, but it really has taken the rest of the week to tinker, craft and bash it and get it into real match fit fighting shape. 

Day 19

Sunday August 15

Mark:

While out and about on my own shopping for a few bits, I come across a bar in town called The Trap which has a poster advertising live music for last night. No idea what kind of music it was, but I tell Maja about it the second I’m back. She says she never imagined we’d have ended up in a place with live music just around the corner. 

Then we get talking about experiences of playing in Ireland and the general positive reaction here to original music. Here, I tell her of a great day I had with my songwriting friends in Cork when we decided to go on a pub crawl, but would play our own original songs in each place, each person playing some kind of instrument to accompany the lead songwriter with each person taking it in turns to be the lead. During the whole day, only one bar told us no. This was when we walked into a large place, which was totally empty except for the one barman who was clearly very hungover. He took one look at us with our instruments and just called out, ‘No.’ Fine. The place was dead anyway. 

Once we’re on it, we log another five hours of studio time including more writing. Nothing that truly sticks, but we’re really starting to feel a momentum building now.

Day 20

Monday August 16

Maybe with yesterday’s session swirling round in my head, I have no idea, but I wake at 6am with a start and a new song already forming. I have to get up. Now. 

I go down to the studio and this thing just falls out of me. Melody, rhythm and lyrics all spilling out onto the page so quickly. Too quickly. I take a pause from writing after I’ve got about a page and a half of A4 paper down. Going back to the beginning, I realise with dismay that I can’t remember anything of the rhythms I was writing so confidently into. OK. Some of the rhythms. But some of the lines I just can’t get to fit into the one line they really should fit into. But I still feel what I had and I stick at it, writing with no musical accompaniment. By the time I sit back to survey what I’ve done. It’s called Baked Honey. What’s baked honey? I have no idea but I’ve just written a song about it. Give me baked honey/I’m so sunny I could melt a radiator. It then goes on to talk about how the terminator tickling protagonist invented science and stole the S from maths.

When I sing it to Maja – without guitar because it has no guitar part yet, she has no idea what to make of it. But I think as the day goes on it grows on her. I think. Finally, she says, it’s a children’s song. It just has to be. It would be perfect on a kids’ TV channel.

Late tonight we’re sitting at our kitchen table. Which has become our hang out place of choice in the house when we’re not in the studio, although the floor window in the bedroom, complete with ground throw and cushions is also very cosy.

Maja’s sketching parts of my face absentmindedly as our thoughts meander and another bottle of wine gets opened. Then she looks up, as though taken by a sudden idea. Dreamily, lazily, she stares at me and then says, ‘You know, I really do like you better when you’re naked.’ Oh my, oh my, oh my. I have to write that down. Suddenly other phrases start coming. I pick up the guitar and a whole chorusey type thing emerges as we bounce ideas backwards and forwards. We feel we really have something here and carry on at it. After half an hour or so of frenetic activity we have a chorus and a verse, and of course an idea of what the whole thing is about. That will do for now. I really do take this as a session. It’s very rare a whole song comes out in one go, although it does feel like that happened with Baked Honey earlier. But as we’ve seen, even with the one hour complete song of All Kinds Of Wonderful, it still took days and hours and hours of actual work to make something we could consider finished. So yeah, I’ll take what we’ve done just now. This really is something to come back to.

Day 23

Thursday August 19

Every band I’ve ever been in has had one dilemma. What to call itself. It really can be a horrible little period as people come up with all kinds of inappropriate or just boring names. Here, I often mention bands like Guns’n’Roses. Or Suede. Or Oasis. I know where it came from but I think Guns’n’Roses is just the worst name for a band ever, and the others aren’t much better. It can be like naming a pet. Does it really matter? Just make it simple and memorable. Biscuits. That’ll do. Or AC/DC, after one of the guys saw a label on a vacuum cleaner apparently. LIke every other project I’ve ever had, we’ve been struggling to come up with a name for ourselves. Well, Maja has an absolute flash today and suddenly calls it out to me like it’s the mosts obvious thing in the world. ‘Mark, I’ve got it,’ she says, full of the confidence of knowing. Go on. The Diaries. Now, this is the thing for me. A band name has to be something the whole band goes, yes, yes, that’s it. Otherwise it doesn’t work. Just my opinion. Well this, it just hits me like a rocket. Like, how could we not have thought of it before? It’s just perfect. It’s what I started way back in July 2014. It’s what Maja started in May 2020. And it’s what we combined to start together in February 2021. And our life, pretty much, is what we think will inspire much of our songwriting. 

So, just like that, ladies and gentlemen, I introduce you, and us, to…The Diaries.

That finally decided, Maja gets onto domain names and finds thediaries.band is available. And here we are today.

Day 25

Saturday August 21

Maja gets busy creating our new website. While she’s doing that in the studio downstairs, I’m upstairs working on I Like You Better When You’re Naked. While I’m doing the dishes, I have a flash of inspiration for one of the verses, and with that the song is done. When we’re finished with our respective tasks, we get together in the studio and just sing through a whole bunch of songs and have a general mess about with them. This is exactly where we’ve wanted to be for so long. To have something of a repertoire we can just have fun with. It’s been a hard place to get to, but here we are.

And now, in our studio, we have all our prospective songs up on the wall which is full of lyric sheets of songs existing and to be worked on. You could cal it our Wonderwall. 

This becomes even more fun when we watch our first full movie in here – Yesterday. The one about the guy who discovers he lives in a world where he’s the only one who knows about The Beatles and sets about learning all their songs to claim as his own. There’s a scene where he contemplates a wall full of lyrics. As he does so, we look around our own little place. Yes, it’s exactly like that. Except, these lyrics and these songs belong completely to us.

Day 29

Wednesday August 25

Rehearsal hits a new level today as we finally run through a few songs in performances that we would be happy to put on a stage. Breakthrough is one of them, but the first is We Run From Our Hearts. It’s so amazing to hear the way Maja sings it. So delicate and so absolutely inside the song. Now we just need another eight or nine like this and we’re ready to go. This really is a hard, hard, process, but we are getting there. Today really feels like a milestone on the journey.

Day 30

Thursday 26 August

Maja:

It’s been really hard to get to a place where I can finally perform any song in a comfortable manner. And I just feel amazing regarding my performance yesterday. I did great finally nailing that piece. When I wake up, the first thing I do is to hit the studio with Mark. I go downstairs and am ready to go again. Mark’s been up writing or doing something like that since around 6am I think, so I make two cups of tea for us. Tea in one hand, Mark in the other, I drag him out to the garden singing my vocal warmups I try to do everyday. We go to the river by the mill, the water is flowing very nicely and we sing together. I am getting stronger. I can feel it. My coordination is up and it feels easier to hit the notes, and I sing more powerfully. Mark isn’t doing a half assed job either. He is getting better at hitting pitches he used to be uncomfortable in and is generally singing much stronger than he was a few months ago, so that’s all good. It’s a bit surreal, you know, standing there, beneath the ruins of the mill, looking at the river flowing at such a fast speed. It makes you understand why they chose to build the mill here over 150 years ago. We get back inside and start working with the songs. First up is Run From Our Hearts, the song I finally had a breakthrough with yesterday. I now know how I should sing that song. We listen to the track once before starting, and I am absolutely amazed. I sound good! The voice holds everywhere, and yes I am making mistakes, but that’s OK. In a few recordings my voice has sounded a bit strained making it uncomfortable to listen to. But that’s not the case now. It sounds smooth. Melodic. Lovely even. I had never sung the song like this before. It’s nailed. Spot on, but I can still hear how at places I struggle with phrasing and lyrics. 

I’m ready to go again. We start up with the same song, and work on it for an hour or so. And we’re finally getting somewhere. It sounds decent. Phrasing and lyrics are improving, but most importantly, we’ve found the key and the voice I should sing it in. 

Finally.

Finally finally finally.

Finally.

We take a break, and feel wonderful about ourselves. This is finally getting somewhere. When we’re back at our next session, we decide to approach it by just going for any of our songs we think we can get. Mark wrote down a list with songs we could try that we kinda have in our repertoire now there are seven songs on that list. We go through all of these songs, some of them only once, some of them a couple of times. And they fit. I’m just able to sing them. It’s absolutely wonderful. Mark plays around with different keys, and I am able to do something I’ve never been able to before; everytime we decide to try a new key, I am able to go with it immediately and am spot on in tune with my vocals. I’ve always felt confused how to do this when keys have just been changed on me. But now, I just need to hear the new pitch of the first chord and I know exactly where to place myself. It’s like something just unlocked in me. 

By the time we finish this session, which clocks in at two and a half hours itself, we’ve been at it for more than five hours today, and we have almost seven songs ready. From not having had a single one just 24 hours ago that we felt was near. It’s enormous.

Day 33

Sunday 29 August

Maja:

Mark’s up at 6:30am and working on various songs, setting up studio equipment, writing, stuff like that. But really, we’re both too tired for any real recording

Early evening and we’re just chilling in the studio. I’m reading and Mark’s chatting to people on FB. Just catching up with people, while also having one eye on who to maybe talk to to get something of a tour started. We’re thinking about Spain.

Then we have a eureka moment, which shoots adrenaline all over the room and wakes us both up. We’re alert now. Rather than think about a country and see who’s touring that, we have a moment of clarity and decide to see who’s touring, anywhere in the world, and see if we can get ourselves onto that.

We almost have everything sorted for that but decide to wait until we have a seven to nine song set and then really go for it. We now realise that we could end up anywhere in the world.

This wakes us up enough to start to think about recording to be able to have something to show people, but we both know energy levels like this could drop as quickly as they arrived and we could just get frustrated. We decide to leave it, relax for the evening and tackle it fresh in the morning.

Day 34

Monday 30 August

Six studio hours in the studio today as we try to get things recorded, and also try to write a few bits and pieces. 

Day 35

Tuesday August 31

We very much put the time in yesterday but really didn’t feel like we got anywhere. So we just take a time out today.

Day 41

Monday September 6

We’ve spent the past few days trying to record things and it’s been equal levels fun and frustrating. Not much we’re going to keep, but it’s all good experience and studio practice, not to mention good general music practice.

But after all that, today we feel a bit flat so we dial it down a little and don’t push ourselves too much. It’s a day for yoga, swimming pool and basic chilling.

Day 45

Friday September 10

For the first time we’re able to play through our whole first set of seven songs and we get onto that first thing in the morning, working through to early afternoon. Mostly these are songs from my back catalogue including Breakthrough, When I’m With You, Wide Blue Yonder and We Run From Our Hearts. But we do now have our first own original in there – All Kinds Of Wonderful. It’s a rough performance with some edges that need to be smoothed out, but we really feel we are almost there with something of a set in the 20 minute mark. Enough for a support slot should the opportunity arrive. We still have a little way to go before this whole thing is stage ready, but it’s a huge deal that we can stand here and play through 20 minutes of repertoire covering this many of our own songs.

There’s another huge deal today as we receive our new business cards and our very own Diary beer mats. Yep. We have beer mats now. Absolutely brilliant. 

Day 46

Saturday September 11

We’ve decided we’re going to London. We have to sell the car we bought to move here with and it has UK plates, so London it is. I call my friend Kristoff who, among other things, was a big fan of The Insiders, my bass/acoustic cover duo with Dan who played in Kristoff’s bar The White Hart and a few other bars in central London, most notably The Marquis just by Trafalgar Square and run by Kristoff’s friend Tommy. 

Kristoff suggests a place we could stay. A mutual friend of ours is now executive chef in a central London bar and also happens to be an ambitious and very talented songwriter, music producer and bar DJ. His name is Alex, I know him very well, he was also a big fan of The Insiders, and my bass playing in particular. So much so that I played sessions on his own tracks. We get onto Alex and he confirms that yes, we can stay in his place. Brilliant. Sorted. His place is on Upper Street, Islington, one of my favourite places in London.

We think about dates and agree we will go sometime around the 20th, with Maja then to go to Sweden on the 28th and me to return to Ireland the same time. 

We talk about where we are and agree the target is to have three tracks recorded and ready to go by the time we go to London. This will mean we will go there with everything ready for us to be able to present ourselves. We’re going in probably nine days time, maybe a little earlier. So between now and then, the focus is just to get songs ready and recorded. It still isn’t fully up and running, but Maja will finally be able to see and experience a little of my London. Of real London.

Day 49

Tuesday September 14

Full studio day. Start 10am, finish 6:30

Day 50

Wednesday September 15

Pretty much the same as yesterday. Full studio day in preparation for recording

Day 51

Thursday September 16

Maja:

We’ve been at it for ages. Ages. And today, we are finally ready to start to record our first video demos. I’m feeling very tired and spend most of the morning in bed. When I finally manage to drag myself out from under the covers, it’s well after noon. Mark’s been on it the whole morning, organising the studio for the recording, but I felt like the best I could do was to rest. I take a shower and put on some clothes. For today’s recording I think I’ll go for neutral and smart. So, no makeup, and just something easy when it comes to clothing. 

Mark:

The plan for today is to do one takes. Just us, song and guitar. Turn the camera on and go. The idea is that we just get stuff in the can today. A kind of safety net of recordings that just work. Then tomorrow, we’ll really go for it, confident in the knowledge that we at least have something useable to present ourselves with. Once we’ve got safeties in the can, we can just go for every take and if we blow it all, we’re still good. Maybe we’ll even get to that today.

Maja:

Setting up, we now amplify both of our voices, since Mark has started doing backing vocals now. Using the voice in this way, with a microphone even though the songs aren’t that loud, means I’m able to sing almost in a whisper at times. This gives me more melodic control, and it just sounds so much better. It’s been a theme that’s been very present these last couple of weeks as I’ve been developing my own way of singing. I’m not a trained singer, I’ve not done anything like this ever before. Choir, well yeah, but nothing else. I’ve also been working on an online singing course but for now, I’m still really just doing it my way.

Yesterday I had a breakthrough regarding this. Usually when I sing songs like our song A Listing – our reworking of an old Drunken Monkees song that Mark wrote with Rick – it’s like my voice kind of breaks. I go for a pitch, and sing it powerfully, as I imagine it should sound, and my voice just breaks in the middle of it. It doesn’t feel very nice. It’s a bit painful and singing like that doesn’t seem sustainable. So I’ve known for a while now that my singing technique is lacking, and it’s been one of my priorities to figure out how to sing better. So yesterday, after a long day of rehearsing, I just sat at the table as Mark fingerpicked the guitar and gently, gently sang. That’s how it should be done. At least for now.

Mark:

It doesn’t quite go as smoothly as we were hoping and it’s take after take as red light syndrome, or something, kicks in. If we were hoping for the safeties to come quick to get onto the real thing we were kidding ourselves. It takes a full day to get three songs just about right, even if the performances aren’t quite ready to break Youtube. A bit flat to be honest, but we have something of ourselves and our songs ready to go out there now. Breakthrough, Your Smile Is Going Round and A Listing. We can have another go to really nail this tomorrow. For now, we’re done and with London coming up the day after tomorrow, it’s time for us to go out and finally start meeting some of the locals round here. Yep. We’re finally going to the great Irish pub, starting with The Trap.

The Covid hangover is still here which means you have to sit at a table, even at the bar, where tables are set up with a perspex screen between the bar and customers. Walking into The Trap for the first time and we see it’s pretty decent sized and quite traditional looking. Stone floor, plenty of TV screens and a few different seating areas, although basically an open design. A semi square U-shape with a an area to the left of the door, something of a stage area to the right, the main bar in front, and then off to the left of that, another area again. We will learn later that there is quite a bit more to this place, but this is what we have for now. There’s a decent crowd in. Not packed, but enough to provide a bit of atmosphere. There’s also an available table at the bar with a couple of guys at the next table over by the wall. We take the free one, order our first Irish pints, and cheers to today’s recording. We’ve got at least this far. It does feel a bit of a milestone.

There’s quite a cool vibe in here and we hear the guys next to us talking music. After a while we turn and say hi to them and are welcomed by Seamus and Mick, the latter being from Clara but with a strong Manchester accent. As we learn that they’re strong music fans, so they learn that we are too, and that we take it a bit further than that 

As we continue talking, Mick says, can we hear any of your songs? Could you sing anything? Way back I told Maja this kind of thing could happen. That people in Irish bars would sometimes just sing. I’m not entirely sure she ever believed me, but now, in her first ever outing to an Irish bar she is actually being asked to sing. We confer a little and she somewhat reluctantly and shyly agrees to do Breakthrough. No guitar, so just Maja it is. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and begins. It’s a gentle song and as soon as she’s into the first few lines, the people around the bar start to go quiet. Someone even gets shushed as they attempt to keep talking. Maja has immediately got the attention of the entire place. But with her eyes closed, she doesn’t at all see what happens next. People start to leave their places and walk over to us, over to Maja. She’s now got six or seven people in something of a semi circle around her, with a few more people sitting around the place paying full attention. Total silence all around. She comes to the final chorus and I can just feel the weight of the audience. Maja’s first ever audience. Captured. She finishes and the final words tail off. She opens her eyes and looks round in surprise as the place erupts into applause and compliments. I look over at Mick, who made this happen, and he’s nodding in approval and all but winks at me in appreciation. Well, that’s one way to say hello to the neighbourhood.

Day 52

Friday 17 September 2021

Nope. No chance of any real takes. What we did yesterday is what we have. How does today disappear from us? It totally does. Between shopping, packing and organising the house, we somehow manage to not get a spare moment and don’t finish the last chore until around 11pm when we collapse in bed in exhaustion. OK. We return to London tomorrow. This could be emotional.

The London Sweden Ireland Diary, days one to 20

Day one

Saturday 18 September 2021 

We’re out the door by 6am and straight in the car. The route is Clara to Belfast for the 10:30am ferry to Liverpool. Arrive in Liverpool at 6:30pm, then drive through England to arrive in London whenever that happens, but scheduled for four hours.

On the ferry we find a lovely spot by a window near the front and immediately get ourselves sorted out with tea. Yep, we brought all the necessaries with us.

We have a few internet plans including uploading yesterday’s videos and maybe some Diary writing, but the ferry’s internet isn’t too clever so we have to just sit back and enjoy the sea view instead, and then the fantastic scenery as the docks of Liverpool slowly come into view. 

We make decent time coming to London until we hit the city then of course the traffic greatly slows us down. Then the memories come quicker and quicker for both of us as we go first through Archway and then Holloway. Then it gets really tricky as we hit the much more central area of Angel and have to find our way to the back of the pub through very unco-operative traffic. Trying to get your own parking space in London is incredibly difficult. For a visit, almost impossible. We’ve been told we’re able to park round the back of the pub for tonight, and will be OK tomorrow as it’s Sunday. But we’ll have to have it out by 8:30am Monday. Great. That’ll do. Especially as we’ve also managed to get a permanent place through a phone call to Per a few days ago. He told us there was free parking in the streets around where he lives in Turnpike Lane, quite far out in north London. We won’t see Peron this trip though as he’s away the entire time we’re here. 

After the heavy London traffic we arrive at the bar just after closing time which is perfect actually, as it means Alex has finished and he lets us in. The staff are also just settling down to after work drinks and we already happen to know some of them, including Tom and Molly. Molly we met last time we were here, and Tom used to work at Kristoff’s bar The White Hart, where I also worked a few help-out shifts. Tom also saw my duo The Insiders loads of times and we hung out a lot too. Other staff from The Marquis/White Hart axis have also found themselves here, in the way London bar staff do tend to spread around the place and find each other again and again. Get involved in London bars for long enough and you’ll know staff all over the city, as I do. Know the staff, and you have a short cut into an introduction to the bar’s social scene.

And here we are getting introduced to this one with a few of the trusted regulars staying behind for drinks as well. We’re introduced to them, and to Matteo the manager. We show everyone our beer mats and it’s fair to say they’re very impressed. Alex immediately says we should put a bunch of them up on the bar. So there they go, and with that we have our first presence in London. 

A few drinks down here, then the regulars leave and the remaining bar staff and myself and Maja go up to Alex’s apartment. By the time we make it to bed after this little after hours extra it’s gone 4am and we’ve been up for 22 hours.

Day two

Sunday September 19 2021

We’re up late. Of course we are. Out of the window of the front room of the apartment we’re looking down on a cool little sidestreet of Angel and we can’t believe we’re here, on our own in an apartment right in the centre of London. Leaving down the outside stairs, the city buildings of London almost loom over us with St Paul’s Cathedral almost dominating the scene. We really are bang in the middle of things here.

We’re not ready to go anywhere until two in the afternoon. I want to show Maja The Marquis and The White Hart and hopefully catch up with Tommy and Kristof respectively. Neither of them are around unfortunately, but we still manage Sunday roast in The Marquis.

Back to the apartment to rest up a little, then we take the car to Turnpike Lane where we find a free parking spot. Great. That’s that part taken care of. Then it’s time for The Blues Kitchen jam. Wow. It really is special walking back into this place, and with Maja this time for the first time she’s seeing the inside of it after walking past it so many times during lockdown.

It’s an amazingly nostalgic feeling to be walking back into here for the first time since March last year. There’s not a massive turnout of regulars, but I’m able to catch up with Freddy, Dre, Joe, and of course regular host Kez. And Mikey’s here; as with so many people new to The Blues Kitchen, he’s the person Maja’s most keen to meet so after saying a massive hi to Mikey myself, I introduce Maja to him and leave them to it.

Then, as I introduce Maja around to a few other people, and then inevitably to Kez, he happily tells me there aren’t many bass players in tonight. Yes, normally I would have been all over that, but instead, I reply now, ‘Could I please not play too much? I don’t want to leave Maja on her own too much.’ He looks at Maja, here for her first time, and says, ‘Of course. Absolutely.’ The one set I then get is with Rose McGowan, who goes and talks to Kez and requests me specifically. Yep. That works.

Normally after a Blues Kitchen there’d be a whole host of people heading to the next place, which would usually be The Elephant’s Head. But by the time it all finishes, there aren’t many people left around tonight. Maybe London still hasn’t yet hit full swing post Corona. But we’re still out so back into Camden it is and I introduce Maja to the late night club Joes. Swinging, rocking music and a great vibe. Welcome back Camden.

When it’s time for home, my automatic pilot sees me heading for the bus stop for Kentish Town. We’re almost at the stop when Maja says, aren’t we supposed to be on the other side of the road and going the other way into London? Oh yes. Oops. 

Day three

Monday September 20, 2021

We’ve been hearing in the media about how bars just can’t get staff anymore. A lot of foreigners work in bars and a lot of them went back home when the Covid lockdowns started; in my house, Camilla, Spanish, went home, and Maria, Portuguese, did the same. Neither returned. Camilla worked in a shop, Maria worked in a bar. So my own anecdotal experience reflects this. The same happened in The Lord Palmerston with a few people being slow to return. And yes, Brexit is a factor. Now, as we meet bar staff and talk to them, we’re really seeing the effects as we’re constantly hearing that people cannot get days off and are working themselves into stress and exhaustion. I think back now to the Costa Blanca when I went into every bar in Javea and shook out nothing. Well now the bars are the ones doing the looking and they are shaking out nothing. The shoe really has gone to the other foot.

Round here, Sunday night means Blues Kitchen. Monday night means Ain’t Nothin But… just off Regent Street in central central London. It’s just so cool to be able to take Maja here, especially as it’s one of the first places we got a picture together not long after we first met at Heathrow Airport and when we were walking through here to get to Kentish Town. I made a very minor detour to bring us down Kingly Street so that she could see this iconic venue that I’d written so much about from so many jams, including my own very first jam in London.

Now she’s finally seeing the inside of it for herself and, with the place as crowded as I always remember, we’re delighted to somehow be able to get a seat at a central table right near the front of the stage. And just like last night it’s great to see a few old friends including house drummer Felipe who I played a gig with once upon a time. It is a pretty cool kudos point when Felipe finishes his set and comes straight over to us to say hello. And again, a set of two songs for me tonight, then we sit back and enjoy the rest of a great show. And Barry the bar manager, after saying hi, says it’s fine to put our beer mats about the place. So now The Diaries get an airing in this most central London of venues. Thankyou very much Barry.

Day four

Tuesday September 21

We’re thinking of getting some recording done while we’re here so it’s a chilled rehearsal day at Alex’s before heading off out to meet my old friend Amy for dinner out by Trafalgar Square. 

Rehearsal day today at Alex’s then out tonight for dinner and a London walk with Amy. And, while walking through Trafalgar Square, we bump into Kristoff who we’ll be meeting tomorrow.

Day five

Wednesday September 22

The bar we’re staying above has a full on venue above it, which is below the apartment. This holds about 100 people and has a really cool stage. Alex has told us we could use this to record a video if we want. Brilliant. We make a plan to do this on Sunday.

Back to Traf Square territory tonight for a night out at The Marquis. A whole host of regular faces including Shane who Maja knows from that party a little while ago. It’s just a basic central London hangout as we happily mingle about the place. 

Day six

Thursday September 23

It’s Alex’s birthday tomorrow and we’ve found the perfect present for him. An actual bass. Second hand, a brand we know well and perfectly affordable. It’s in East Dulwich, quite a trek away from here on a couple of buses. We had quite a late night last night, but I’ve made a plan to to and pick that bass up early enough this morning. I’m out and back by about 11:30am and the bass gets stored in a discrete place. 

With us staying at Alex’s, I’ve made it clear that he has me for free if he wants me for any recording on his album material. I’ve already played on I think five songs of this for which he paid a good session rate. He asks now if I wouldn’t mind having a go at a song or two of his. No problem. Let’s have a look. We go into the studio and run through a few songs. I’ve never heard them before but there’s no need to really learn them properly. Instead we go through section by section. I learn that bunch of 16 bars or whatever, get a good feel, red light, record. Next section. This is how we get through it, and two hours later he has two tracks with bright and shiny new basslines. It’s 1:30pm. We’ve arranged to go and meet Fred Pala today. We have some lunch and leave around 2pm, arriving in Ealing around 4. Yes, it really is another trek. Wow. Out to East Dulwich to buy a bass, back to Angel to record a session for two tracks from scratch as I’d never heard them before, and now we’re in Ealing by 4pm. If we’d had this schedule planned and written out, it would have seemed impossible.

It’s wonderful to see Fred, who I shared so many great moments with just hanging out, rehearsing, and then playing all those shows all around London and a touch beyond at times. We hang out now in a hotel bar on the River Thames near his place and all is good. Evening descends and we continue into the night and all is good. We have a guitar and he’d love to hear a song or two from us. Great. We play Our mid tempo song Smile Is Going Round to a luke warm reception. Fair enough. You don’t have to like it. But then we go for breakthrough and Maja is really concentrating and giving a lovely, heartfelt performance when Fred just stands up and walks away and goes chatting to some random people he’s just seen about 20 metres away. We carry on for a little while but then I slowly stop, Maja opens her eyes and suddenly sees we’re alone. Not good. Not cool at all. We look at each other in disbelief, tinged with some level of disgust and disillusionment. I’m frankly embarrassed that a seemingly great friend of mine could do something so ignorant and disrespectful. We barely even have to say anything to each other. We just pack up and walk away without even looking back. Fred, I’d really like to say it was great to see you again, but…

Day seven

Friday September 24

Me and Alex try and get a recording session done but I’m really not as much on the ball as I was yesterday. Sometimes it flows through your fingers and sometimes it’s treacle and just not there. This is the second kind. No worries. We leave it and think maybe we’ll have another go later on. The main issue here is a part of a song, a kind of finale which Alex isn’t too sure what he wants to do with and I’m being absolutely no help. It could be a big bass part to really lift it, but if that is the case, I’m totally unable to deliver right now. It’s not that I couldn’t play something, I just can’t get a vision of what it could be, and anything I play, however decently sounding and technically well executed just doesn’t have any inspiration and neither of us is feeling it. I just can’t get my head around what would work here. To be fair, he’s been a bit stuck with how this part of the song could sound and was hoping I might be able to break the ice with it, but no. It just isn’t happening.

After all of yesterday’s running around and activity, me and Maja take it easy in the apartment until around 5:30 when we go for a wander out and about, including a perfectly leisurely chill in the nearby park with grapes which just seems right.

There’s a vague plan for the birthday tonight, involving starting sometime around 6/7. We get back there around 6:30 and no-has turned up yet, so it’s back to the apartment. When we arrive Alex is having a tinker in his studio and has been looking at what I recorded today. He’s decided a lot of it is really quite good and works well with the track, but he still has nothing for the end, the bit we were struggling with. Now he says he has an idea that it could be a real just let it go lead bass part finale for the last 16 bars or so. He just mentions this casually, but when he does a light goes off in me. I know exactly what to do. I tell him I can do that now. He says we should just relax and do the party, but I really want to have a go and I insist. He finds this amusing and a bit ridiculous because it’s come round to time to leave and we really should be down there in ten minutes or so. I’m all over this and tell him just to let me have a go. Shaking his head in a little incredulity he says, OK, let’s try. I’ve never tried soloing over this section before and I get myself mentally warmed up, thinking of the modes and chords that are required, as well as the feel. I launch myself into two takes. They’re actually OK, but I do kinda trip up over myself a little in the experimenting. We have to go. We really have to go. Come on Alex. Just one more try. I have this. OK, go for it. I do. And damn I nail it so hard. I finish, look up a little breathlessly and Alex is standing there just stunned. Maja’s been allowed to sit on in this session as well and she just looks like, ‘Oh wow, what just happened?’ Alex launches into hugging me and says some sweary words like, you had no right to play like that you… I just smile back and say, ‘Happy birthday.’ With that he declares the track done. What perfect timing and what a great way to see ourselves off. A jubilant threesome, we all go downstairs to join the party.

By 11:30, everything is still going strong. The bar is closed and we all help a little with the clearing up to allow the barstaff to get everything finished just that little bit earlier so they can all join us upstairs in Alex’s apartment. This will ultimately see 15 to 20 people all crammed into the place. Once upstairs, there’s a little present giving session and Alex is suitably bashful about getting so much attention. Then, just when he thinks it’s all over, we announce that we have something. We reach into the pile of clothes and bags, all strategically placed against the wall and pull up a large black case and place it on the table. A reaction of disbelief sweeps the room as we say, ‘Happy birthday Alex. This is for you.’ He’s like, ‘Oh no. You didn’t. It can’t be.’ Well, open it and find out. There’s suddenly a wonderful silent tension as he slowly unlocks the clasps and gently swings the top open. And then, there it is. A beautiful black perfect condition Cort bass. Yes, it really is quite a moment and I don’t think it’s just Alex who gets emotional.

As soon as present giving has somewhat calmed down, attention turns to us. Among a lot of my old friends tonight, such as Kristoff and Jess, we have met a lot of new people and they have been intrigued about our story and marvelled over our beer mats, with one girl saying, ‘You keep putting these around and the right person will see them and will call you. It’s a great, great marketing idea.’ Well, brilliant. But now they want to see if there is anything behind the great marketing idea as everyone now wants to hear what it is we can actually bring to the table. Me and Maja are standing alone in the kitchen, just off the main room and mentally preparing ourselves for this. We’re about to play our music live for the first time and we’re kind of checking each other to see if we’re ready. This is about to happen. This will be the first time anything we’ve done has made contact with reality to see if it can truly stand up like we believe and hope it can. And friendly or not, we’re doing it in front of a central London audience. We say we have one song for them. Everybody sits back. We stand at one end of the room, wait for them to more or less settle, then we hit it and launch into I Like You (Better When You’re Naked) for the first time.

We finish and there’s no applause. No-one saying, ‘Oh yeah, that’s a really nice song.’ No. None of the polite friend stuff people might do when someone they know, however vaguely, plays a new song. There’s none of that at all. Instead the room just explodes in screams and cheers like their soccer team has just scored the most important goal of the season. 

This. Does. Not. Happen.

I’ve been around a lot of songwriting events and someone playing a brand new song to mostly strangers, to get this reaction. Does not happen. Even the politiest, most supportest of friends would not cheer and whoop like this. Does not happen. Or at the very least I’ve never seen anyone play a brand new song in a singer songwriter context and get this type of reaction. But then, if it was possible, things go to even crazier levels. For the next half an hour or so, it seems all anyone can talk about is this song we’ve just played. To me, to Maja. Even to each other. We keep hearing people talking about our song. Right down to thoughts and breakdowns of the lyrics, taking the subject matter to existential areas we’d never even thought of. Way over an hour later, every now and then we hear someone humming it. This is our first contact with a London audience. With any audience. And no matter what we could have imagined, or hoped, even my biggest hopes of how our music could be received, nothing I could have thought or dreamt of could have even come close to this.

Day eight

Saturday September 25

Yes last night was a late big one, but we don’t think it’s just that. The non-stopness really catches up with us today. Hits us like a wall in fact. And we have somewhat ambitious plans for tonight. For a start I’m heading back to the Palmerston. We’re going to meet Chris there for dinner. Then after that we have plans to hang out with some of my old workmates there. Duran, Joe and Eraldo and maybe others if they can make it. This could take us all round Camden and beyond if we really get stuck into it. But halfway through dinner with Chris we realise we’ve just piled on too much. It’s so cool to see him again and we have a good laugh about the disastrous car journey to Ireland which definitely was not funny at the time. Neither for him or us. Iza’s in today and it’s great to see her too but she’s too busy to be too sociable. Moni’s kind of around, but again also busy. Hey, it’s Saturday night. 

By the time we’re heading off to meet our guys after saying goodbye to Chris we’re just about hanging on and I’m starting to feel guilty about this. I know they’ve set themselves up for a big night and I know there’s no way we’re able for it. I was hoping to meet up in Aces And Eights, just by Tufnel Park station, then head into Camden. But by the time Maja and I arrive we barely have it in ourselves to speak. We summon up enough energy to hang out with Duran, Joe, Eraldo and a few other guys, but we don’t even make it to a second hour. I’ve not felt this socially tired for a long long time, Maja’s totally feeling it too, and we have to very regretfully bale before the night is even close to getting going. Back to Alex’s and we join him in watching a movie. Ten minutes in and I’m asleep on the sofa. A big fat miss of a night and not at all what my old work friends were thinking off. Really sorry guys. 

Day nine

Sunday September 26

After last night’s failure we have success today as we head out early and achieve what we came to London to achieve. The car gets sold. The wonderful seven seater Mazda that we bought in London and moved to Ireland with has now returned to London where it will stay. We’re back at Alex’s by 10:30am and have vague plans to rehearse and record, but oh, that just isn’t happening. As we go through today, things get cancelled and chucked off our list. We were hoping to do The Blues Kitchen tonight and have Maja play. But for that she needed to practice a little during the week and maybe get a few pointers from me and that just hasn’t happened. We also are just so tired and way past trying to do anything really. We’ve been meaning to go the comedy club in the bar we’re staying in, but it’s clear we’re not up for that either. Instead, we settle for having a late Sunday roast in the bar here and stay here and hang out with the off duty and coming off duty bar staff instead. 

Day ten

Monday September 27

Last London day today and it’s Monday and we’re still kind of in recovery mode so we really don’t try to do much. A little look and hang out in a bar or two around the wonderful Angel area we’re in the middle of, then back to the bar and a wonderful hang out with Alex and the bar staff. Then up to his apartment for a few more drinks and fun, and where he has one more surprise. He wants us to have one of his really good studio microphones. This will become the microphone we use for our podcasts. The fantastically chilled atmosphere up here with some of the guys we’ve been hanging out with during the week is a great way to end our London trip. 

Day 11

Tuesday September 28

Maja’s off to Sweden today and I head off to the airport with her. It’s a very emotional goodbye as she heads into the terminal. Tonight, and then tomorrow, will be our first time apart since the day we met – February 19, just over seven months ago. Now I’ll be heading back to Ireland to be on my own in our house for the first time.

Day 20

Thursday October 7

This week has been me recovering from London, catching up on Diary writing and getting to know the studio a little bit more and practicing with some guitar tracks to be a bit more ready for recording when Maja’s Sweden visit is over. The main thing here is that we have plans to hopefully get a strong demo recording of I Like You (Better When You’re Naked).

And today Maja says her trip will end on Monday. Her flight will leave at 8:15 Sweden time, so 7:15 Mark time. My train from Clara to Dublin leaves at 7:14am. Which means that her plane will be taking off the same time as my train leaves.

So we plan to meet in Dublin, maybe have a few early pints in Templebar, and then a gentle journey home. It’s fair to say we don’t plan to be very productive that day.

The Second Ireland Diary, days one to 23

The Second Ireland Diary

Day one

Monday, October 11

Maja:

I’m up very early – 4:30am swedish time. Taxi 5am, airport 6am, flight 8:15. Mark meets me at Dublin airport, and I surprise him by appearing behind what appears to be a touring polish football team. We find a hostel near Heuston train station where we’re able to leave my bags, then get a bus back into town.

Once there we settle on a bar called The Norseman where we settle in for a couple of beers and also go for their whiskey taster tray. Then we head off to find another bar, this time for lunch and we end up at Fitzgerald’s. There we’re looked after by Katie, a wonderful waitress on her first day of work. A few more pints here accompanied by a fantastic meal of Steak and Guinness pie with mash. Then we’re on our way. The 5:30pm train gets us back to Clara by 6:30. I’m exhausted by the time we get back. Pretty much straight to bed.

Day two

Tuesday, October 12, 2021

Maja:

I’m excited. It feels wonderful to be back home and I have had a very restful time at my parents house. I just feel so positive, but before me and Mark get real productive there’s a couple of things we need to do. Unpack, take a lovely walk for me to rediscover our little town, then we catch up with the rest of the world by binge watching Squid Game and drinking beer.

Wonderful.

I’m back home!

Ireland, Day three

Wednesday, October 13

Maja:

Yeah, I’m happy to be back here. In Ireland. The country of rain and beer. When I finally wake up, I feel like I want to take on the world. So of course, before doing anything, we need to finish up watching Squid Game. I can’t leave that hanging, so we make a cup of tea and watch the last two episodes. Amazing. And now, I just feel like I’m done with watching things for a while. I want to get started. So in the studio I get going while Mark starts to cook us some pasta bolognese. I get on rearranging the studio, setting up the workstation and so on. Right now my priority is that I want to get a little bit better at producing, so I need to put in some hours at the computer. 

Mark:

Out at The Trap and I head off for a toilet break. On the way I bump into Angela and Jimmy, the managers. They’re doing renovations out back. They take me there to show me what’s going on as they revamp what will be the function room. There, we get speaking about music. This starts to look like it could go on for some time so I excuse myself, go and get Maja, and bring her back and introduce her. Now we’re told that Clara is a very musical town and we’ve really chosen very well in coming here. Crazy. They have the Clara band and Clara musicals, loads of other acts. And we’re told we should come tomorrow and meet Alan who runs their sound and other bits and pieces. 

Maja:

Only Mark could go to the toilet and come back with something like this. Only Mark. 

Day four

Thursday October 14

Mark:

Ross, my London agent calls. He’s wondering if I can start up quizzes like we were talking about pre lockdown. I have to stop him and tell him I don’t actually live in London anymore. I fill him in on a little of our story and he absolutely loves it. And he confirms my theory about lockdown; which was that a lot of musicians would have left London and, had I still been there, I would have been able to clean up. Well, things like that are actually happening for some people all fair play to them. 

Maja:

We go to try to meet Alan at The Trap at 2 pm. We manage to say hello, shake hands and give our card but he’s deep in conversation with the bosses and we soon realise they’re not going to finish talking or checking things anytime soon. If anything we’re a bit in the way. So we back off a little bit and take a little walk to the back of the pub. We start to see it really is an enormous place as we head out beyond the function room and into the back garden. Just huge. Right at the end of it, possibly 60 to 70 metres from where this thing start, is a large raised area. We discover this is the stage area for summertime shows. We’ve seen the whole place now and the serious talk down there is still continuing so we take ourselves off for a walk around the countryside surrounding the town.

Day six

Saturday October 16

Maja:

‘Mark! I’m buying the car now!’ I inform him after I’ve managed to crawl out of bed and come to the computer in the studio downstairs. I’m not especially alert. I’ve been quite tired since yesterday. It’s like everything is just a tad bit too slow today. But we need to buy another car after recently selling the last one in London, and I don’t want to put that off any longer. I’ve been here now for almost a week, and we still haven’t got to it. Living here, we pretty much need a car for any travel and for any kind of decent shopping. Anything, pretty much. The car I want to buy is a Ford Galaxy 2010 model for 2450 euro. It’s in Roscommon. I call up the seller, Tony, and he tells me it’s available and that I can take the train there during the day. I look up train times, and find a train leaving in one and a half hours. Perfect. I can go there, buy the car, and we can drive home. Everything done during the day. I tell Mark who takes a shower and starts getting ready. Then to look up car insurance in Ireland. I start with the first site, and I get a quote. 3700 euro for a year. 3700! And that’s 25% off with an online signup offer. So it’s already reduced by 25 per cent. No way this is true, this is just too much! I pay like 50 euro a month for my Swedish car. This is an infuriatingly high price. How can it be this expensive just because I’m not irish? I’m still a European citizen, and I’ve had my licence for nine years by now. But no. Here, I’m treated like a new driver because I’m new to Ireland. I’ve driven all around the globe. It’s not like I’m a beginner at all, but apparently none of that matters here. I continue searching for other options, but most companies won’t even give me a quote. And I found another one for 4500 euro. That’s even worse than my first option.

This is ridiculous. It now means that this car isn’t happening.

I have to call Tony back. “Hello, how’re you doing?” “Grand, how bout you?” and all of that. “I’m not able to come today. I can’t find any decent car insurance.” That’s that. End of story. We can’t buy an Irish car. It’s just too expensive. Balls.

Well, I’m still going to try to call insurance companies next week to see if I can get something affordable, because this is just over the top. Completely. Surely there has to be some option.

So here we are. Not having a car in the Irish countryside for the foreseeable future. What a fun life. We can’t do anything here, and if we go to any town by train, last trains back to Clara from anywhere tend to leave sometime early evening with only occasional later ones. This is really not an optimal situation. We can’t really live here without a car. 

How are we going to manage now?

Both me and Mark are frustrated beyond. This was not the turn we expected. What are we going to do now? Our little town is nice and so, but we can barely buy decent food here, not at a good price at least. Doing most of your shopping from the local shops is not a sustainable way of being for two musicians looking to play music live for a living. It’s not fitting. We need something else. But what?

Day seven

Sunday October 17 

I wake with what sounds like a crazy idea and I tell Mark so. ‘You know, I still haven’t sold my Swedish car,’ I tell him with a sly look on my face. ‘Which means we do actually have a car,’ ‘OK,’ he says cautiously. I’m thinking like this. First off we can use my Swedish car in Europe for six months. That will put off the problem for quite a while. We have a car that we can use for six months. It’s just that it is currently at my parents place in Sweden. But I have to go there soon anyway for hand surgery. So I can go there, have the surgery, heal, and drive the car to somewhere in Europe where Mark can meet me. We could meet in Copenhagen, or Gdansk, which is a place I can get a ferry to from Sweden. Or we could even meet in Stockholm. Or consider a few places even further south. Like Hamburg, Berlin, Amsterdam or even Prague. Then we could just go and find places to play. We’ll find our hunting grounds somewhere. It’s going to be an adventure.

I can’t believe it where it looks like these thoughts are taking us. To our first European tour. Yes. Not buying a car would well be the beginning of our first European tour.

Mark is getting all excited about this. He is great at talking to people, and I’m sure that if we’re prepared and just there, we’ll find some opportunities. We’ll just turn up, check in at the cheapest hostel or at a friend’s house if we have any friends around where we end up, and look around for places to play. That’s our game plan right now.

Mark:

Yep. That’s does indeed appear to be our game plan right now. We’ve literally, right here, as we’ve just woken up, begun preparing for our first European tour. Just so that you’re fully up to speed, we’re not yet even ready to play live. Considering what we’re considering, we should probably get on it.

We do this with a two hour rehearsal in which Maja really finds her power voice. We get through four songs and make real significant progress. 

Into the evening and we go out and discover Nigel’s Bar – this place is only open at the weekends so tonight is the first time we make it in there. We’re warmly welcomed to Clara by Michael, the bar manager, then we have a look around and the sheer size of the place takes us totally by surprise. It’s one of those places that just goes on and on. Out back is a nightclub and games area, with another bar upstairs overlooking the whole thing. This could be a cool place in any full size city. It’s not something I expected to find in our new five pub town. Now we’ve discovered the games room, Maja challenges me to darts. Bad idea. For me that is. Because it’s now that she finds out just how pathetic I am at this game. She’s hardly smashing in the 180s either, but what follows is quite possibly a level of humiliation the Romans would have used for public punishment.

What happens next is just out there, unbelievable ridiculous. I’ve been writing quite a lot of Diary catchup today, and tomorrow I’m going to reach the day of Maja’s ankle break when she stepped off a kerb on the way home from the Palmerston and it just went. Well, we get home from Nigel’s  Bar and Maja decides she wants fish and chips from town. So we head back out to the actual fish and chip place, which we’ve never been to before. When we enter, we’re surprised to discover it’s a cash only business. They might just have to rethink that with the only cash point in town having closed just last week. We have no cash, and can’t get any so we leave empty handed to head over to the only similar take out place in town. As we leave the door, there’s a step of around six to seven inches. Kind of like a big kerb. Yep. Something in me miscalculates the distance to the ground and I go down hard, feeling pain in my ankle, in exactly the same place where Maja broke hers – although she did it on both sides of the ankle whereas I have it on just the one, but even so. Come on people. Hours before I’m due to write about Maja’s drama, which meant we had to postpone the whole Irish adventure, I go and do exactly the same thing. But again, not quite the same thing. It’s OK, really. No breaks in sight, just a bit of a sprain. But it was a bit of a worry for more than a second or two there when it happened, and the horrified sound Maja made as she saw me go down just like she had. Oh it must have been scary. I was well aware of that because I immediately called out from the ground, ‘It’s OK. Nothing’s broken. Just hurts. Give me a minute.’ 

Day eight

Monday October 18

The day I write about Maja’s ankle break, I’m wearing the exact same moonboot she got from the hospital and which we brought with us to Ireland. Just in case. Well, here we are at that just in case. Talk about symmetry. Damn.

Now onto the next ridiculousness, as The Diaries, an act yet to even play a half hour gig, an act not yet even ready to play a gig, discusses – in full earnest I may add – their first European tour. We’re alternating between the idea of starting in Hamburg or Poland, but the more we think about it, the more Hamburg comes into focus. Northern Germany, working our way down through western Europe. 

But we can’t start until Maja gets back from Sweden which will be possibly be December 1. But the other thing is that she’s leaving for that Sweden visit on November 6 so we also don’t have much time to get ourselves sorted and ready to play a decent length of set of seven or eight songs. Then, with Maja gone for the whole rest of the month, we’ll somehow have to keep in touch with what we hope to have achieved by then so that we can hit the ground, if not running, at least not falling over, when we arrive for our first European shows, wherever they might happen to be.

Day ten

Wednesday October 20

Mark:

We’ve tried comping vocals for I Like You (Better When You’re Naked), which means recording multiple takes and then putting the best bits together to make one coherent vocal. For one reason or another it just didn’t work. Not helped by me making a silly mistake after an hour or so of comping and managing to essentially delete all the work I’d done and then having no idea where I was with the thing. 

So today we decide to try another way, which is to do the song section by section, singing each line until it’s right, saying yes, we have it, and then moving onto the next part. This means we won’t have to return to compare and edit. When we have a section, we have it and that’s that. This is the theory at least. This doesn’t work too well either. We eventually get through it all, but again are not satisfied with the results. What we’ve ended up with is a track with a total lack of spontaneity. It just isn’t a performance. After yesterday, I just can’t take any more of staring at the screen. My eyes have just gone. I take a complete break while Maja works alone, trying different takes and ways of singing it.

After a while she declares that she has something we can work with that just needs a few edits.

Day 11

Thursday October 21

After really thinking we’d made a breakthrough yesterday, and after all the efforts of the past few days, we delete everything and start again. But so much has gone into this that we feel really confident with it now. I guess we thought we were recording when what we were really doing was practicing recording. This is borne out when we get back to it today; within three hours of starting, we have a full track ready to go. This really is a breakthrough, both in terms of learning to work together in the studio, and in Maja’s vocals. I think this week has been her biggest leap forward in improvement since this whole thing began.

Day 12

Friday October 22

Maja:

With something real finally in the bag, there’s a new calmness about things now. Mark has another session of double tracking guitar, playing against my new vocals, and then has a go at some backing vocals. All that’s left are a few minor touch ups and then I go in for mixing. With this I work with Alex who’s been super kind enough to offer his help on all things technical. I send him what I have and he replies with thoughts on how things could be improved and I incorporate those thoughts and so on.

Mark:

With all of this, I think Maja is really going to get into this production thing. Our pool of skills is definitely building.

Day 13

Saturday October 23

Maybe for today, Sunday and Monday, look through the Alex Whatsapp thread and get into studio bits a little

Maja’s first live band experience at The Trap.

Day 14

Sunday October 24

Day 15

Monday October 25

Maja has the idea of renting an apartment in Hamburg or Berlin and going there for December to play around those areas. Then we’ll take a break for Christmas which might just see us go and visit my family in Devon. During that time we’ll leave the car in Germany. In this plan, New Year will be spent back in Berlin while we decide where to go next. Maybe something like Holland, Belgium, northern France, and then western Germany from there. It’s a plan. 

Once we’ve discussed all this we get stuck into a rehearsal which ends up going on for three hours. We start in the kitchen reworking an old song of mine called Can You Be. After hitting that for a while we head into the studio to have a really solid go at everything we have as we aim to get the set nailed. Tomorrow sees us continuing to just go through the set as we work on more and more details and transitions within songs. Not to mention just trying to make ourselves sound like a single unit that can play together.

Day 17

Wednesday October 27

Ditto.

Day 18

Thursday October 28

Today it just isn’t happening. We try to rehearse. We really do. But it just sounds flat, uninspired, and it’s full of all kinds of mistakes that we just shouldn’t be making. It would be a waste of time to try to iron all this out. Most of it we already do have ironed out, we just aren’t proving it today. No. This is all coming from tiredness. We really have been hitting it hard lately, and rather than that manifesting itself in good, solid playing, exactly the opposite is happening. Frustrated and tired, we decide to start the weekend early and recharge.

Day 20

Saturday October 30

We’ve had a thought about maybe doing a gig before we set up so we can have at least on show under our belts before tackling Europe. If nothing else it would get that first one out of the way as we see just how much of our image of ourselves and our songs can survive contact with reality. And if things do go well, we could maybe justifiably go into Europe with something resembling confidence in what we have, beyond our own stubborn belief.

So we go into The Trap in the afternoon and see Angela. She’s happy to give us a gig this Friday, November 5, the day before Maja sets off. By definition, the very last day we have available before Europe. Brilliant. Job done.

Day 21

Sunday October 31

We really have no desire to see what happens on Hallowe’en here, especially as we live in a very conspicuous house right on a crossroads. With that, Maja’s had the idea of us going off on a day trip to Tullamore, probably taking in the night as well. Actually, that would kind of be the point. Before heading off, we have a run through of the set. For the first time we get through the whole thing in one go, complete with backing vocals. It all sounds very lively, and it’s encouraging that we’ve now got through the whole thing, which means the week ahead of us can be spent on consolidation. It’s also perfect that we hit this milestone before our first real day trip out to our nearby larger town of Tullamore. As a comparison, Clara has a population of around 3,500 while Tullamore is around 14,500.

We make the 2:30pm train.

Once in Tullamore we start to get a very different feel to the place than we ever have before. Up to now it’s been a functional town for us. Come and do the shopping, which mostly happens in the bigger stores slightly out of town anyway. But we have been to the shopping centre here, which hosts a Dunnes supermarket. And with that there’s been the occasional walk around the place, maybe popping into a cafe or two at times. But now we’re checking out bars and restaurants. We wander around and get our bearings for a while, also seeing if we can discover any live music. The most obvious place we see is a huge bar called Fergies, but they tell us their music starts at 10pm. Our last train out of here is 9:30, so no good.

Before hitting our first bar for a drink we need lunch, which is really breakfast. A little more of a walk and we find a wonderful Indian restaurant, just a tiny bit off the beaten track. We’ll be back here again, we decide. Now it’s time for the wonderfully guilty pleasure of daytime beers.

Our first bar is The Brewery Tap where we watch documentaries of old Offaly hurling glories. We get talking to John, the landlord and he knows Clara very well. He tells us there’ll be a party in The Mill later on, the bar behind our house. This will be a celebration for yet another victorious Clara sporting team. We’re really getting  a sense that this town is full of talented musicians and sports stars. I think this is the fourth victory we’ve heard of in the past month or so. 

Out of here and we head to the top of the town where we find Eugene Kellys, a wonderfully large bar where we have one drink in the main bar, then discover their spectacular lounge bar out back. What a contrast of atmospheres. The front bar is all bright and full of local joviality. The back bar is intriguingly dark and the cool music vibe is much more upfront, slightly louder than the other bar. It really has the feel of the cool chill place in town. We have to stay here for another. Afterall, this is like finding a whole new bar anyway.

Out of here and it’s approaching 7. We can maybe take in one more place before last train time. People have been telling us about Digans. That’s straight down the hill from here. On the way we walk past a musician unloading his car and call out good luck to him. He thanks us and we carry on our way to Digans. Oh dear. We don’t get this vibe at all. Very nightclubby and already a bit uncomfortably full and rowdy. No thanks. But we just saw that musician down the road a little way back there. Let’s check him out.

The bar is The Goalpost and we walk in and see our man setting up in front of a speaker someway down the middle of the place. Kind of at the back of the front part of the bar and just in front of a few steps leading down to the back area. We go and say hello and he introduces himself as Pat and invites us to sit down with him while he sets up. We chat a little and we give him our card. ‘Oh, fellow musicians. Very good,’ he says. He then introduces us to his friend, Colm. Cool. We’re suddenly a little crowd.

After about 20 minutes, Pat says he’s about to start, so we settle down at a table nearby and are soon bouncing along to his up tempo pop and rock cover set with a good amount of traditional Irish thrown in. A half hour or so of this and we wait for Pat to finish a song before standing, thanking him for the show and saying our goodbyes to him and Colm. ‘Where are you off to?’ he asks? Last train. It’s half past nine and it’s a 20-30 minute walk from here to the station. ‘Where are you heading?’ Clara. ‘We’ll have none of that,’ he declares. ‘I’m driving that way after. I’ll give you a lift. Stay and have a proper drink.’ Well, who can refuse? So we do, and get totally into the growing raucous atmosphere of the place, all the while hanging out with Colm a little more. And singing along when we know the songs. This day really has warmed up. Now we’re going deep into the evening as well. 

When his set finishes, all four of us pile into his car, me and Maja in the back and Colm up front. They ask what kind of stuff we plan to play if and when we’re out and about and we tell them we’re songwriters so will be planning on that, although we tell them now that we’ll be heading to Berlin and then wider Europe soon to see how we can get on. ‘You’ll be having to play a few covers if you want to play around here,’ Pat says, totally matter of factly, totally as a statement of obvious fact. No no, we say. We’re going to play all our own songs. ‘Oh, you can’t be doing that now,’ says Pat. No-one will be interested, If it’s not Wagon Wheel or something similar, they don’t want to know. Colm chimes in now. Originals, forget it he says. The general thought coming off both of them now is that it simply can’t be done. Colm turns round now to face us. All serious, he says, ‘You have to throw a few covers into your set. You just have to. I’m telling you now.’ If you didn’t know he was in fact offering friendly advice and from a totally well meaning place, you would think he was giving a warning. ‘What you guys are planning, you can’t do it,’ he continues. ‘You have to play covers.’ We hold our ground. No. We’re doing this. The atmosphere is in danger of descending a little in here.

‘It’s nursery rhymes for adults,’ Pat calls out. ‘That’s all they want. Songs they know and that’s the end of it. I’ve got my own stuff too as it happens, but it just doesn’t work with the kind of audiences you’re talking about.’ We really are being told here. Pleaded at almost. Like, ‘Guys, please don’t do this to yourselves.’ They are totally telling us for our own sakes. As I said, their thoughts are totally coming from a good, well meaning place and, for all the hard sounding words, no-one’s falling out here.

We decide to give Pat the last word on this subject. He then says that he and Colm are playing in The Trap on Wednesday with another friend or two of theirs. Oh wow. Our own local and we tell them we’re playing there on Friday. ‘Why don’t you guys come along on Wednesday,’ Colm suggests now, again nudging the atmosphere to more friendly territory. Maybe you could get up and do a song or two with us. Yep absolutely. Sounds absolutely brilliant and another continuation of our fantastic little daytrip to Tullamore.

Day 22

Monday November 1

We’re up relatively early and surprisingly very fresh. The main priority now, apart from rehearsal, is to think about what we want to do between now and arriving in Berlin.

I need to have a working studio set up here so that me and Maja can maybe send tracks to each other. One of those projects will be me recording backing guitar tracks for the songs so that she can have something rehearse with on her own.

And we have to decide what to take and maybe see what we might have to buy when we get there. This includes thinking about what Maja has in Sweden which she can bring in the car. But really, it looks like we’ll have to buy quite a few things when we get there, including a new guitar, at least one speaker, and a mixing desk. Of course we have a guitar here but it’s only acoustic meaning it has to be mic’d up. Not ideal, even for now, but there’s no point buying a guitar here just for one gig. For The trap on Friday we’ll mic up the guitar, then have a whole new semi acoustic one by the time we start in Berlin.

And of course, up front and personal on that to-do list is me researching venues and promoters and emailing and calling them. Generally trying to get us gigs to actually play when we get there.

Day 23

Tuesday November 2

After rehearsal we really get down to trying to settle touring plans. We decide to take in five or six cities. The plan will be to arrive in one, play in and around the place and get known around there as much as we can, then move onto the next one. That three to four week thing is also fluid and could shorten or lengthen depending on what was happening in any given place. For the first destination, we settle on Berlin. I’ll fly there at the beginning of December, and Maja will drive down from Stockholm, probably getting a ferry on the way, maybe to Poland. 

It’s looking something like this:

Berlin – with a Devon excursion

Amsterdam

Zurich

Paris

Madrid

Then possibly, possibly London. We’re not totally convinced about Madrid – too far out of the way for a start – and Hamburg could yet make it into the mix. 

But of course, who really knows? We’re open to anything else happening in between that could take us anywhere else. But with this, we now have a solid plan to talk about and aim at.

Day five, the tour diaries prologue

Day five

Sunday November 7

Mark:

I want to go and see Pat in Tullamore again. First, just because I want to go and it would be nice to keep up with a new friendly face. But cynical me really does want to take news of what happened on Friday, bearing in mind the insistence we got last week that we were going to get nowhere round here playing originals and no covers. Granted, we still haven’t actually got anywhere. But neither is two encores and autograph requests nowhere. I really really want Pat to know this, and hopefully from there, maybe some word of this to other musicians he knows because he’s someone who seems to know them all.

My first surprise of the night is that the bar staff remember me and Maja from last week and are wonderfully friendly. Wow. That is impressive from them. About ten minutes after I’ve arrived and settled down, Pat shows up. We have an enthusiastic hello and the first thing he asks is how Maja’s getting on. Thanks for that. The second is yes, he asks how the show went last week. He’s delighted when I tell him, but I also think a little surprised. I can’t deny that I do enjoy telling him after last weeks’ insistences but to be fair, like I said at the time, I really think we did get a new found respect from him after he let us sit in on his set in The Trap. 

Maja: 

I arrived safe and sound at my parents place yesterday, and I am going to spend the time there until I meet up with Mark next time. Wherever that is going to be. It’s wonderful to be back home for a little while, and I get to hang out with my family and hopefully some friends as well while I have surgery and recover from it. My surgery appointment is on Thursday, and then they are going to remove the troublesome and painful ganglion I have on my left wrist. For the second time. I hope it’ll disappear for good this time. But who knows. It certainly has been restricting movement in my left hand for about a year now, and I’ve barely been using it since last spring. Which is a real shame, since I have really wanted to play both bass and guitar. I’m only just starting out with guitar, I know some basic chords and rhythms, and it would be a great tool for me to have especially in songwriting, but no. I have a messed up left hand instead. Balls. But what this actually means is that I won’t be distracting myself with what really matters for me and our project right now, which is training myself to be a great singer. I can do that. I am doing that.

But I still grieve the lost mobility of my left hand. I want it back. I hope it’ll come back soon.

I’m not going to go into details on day to day life here in Sweden. We’ll get back to that when the tour is properly starting. Oh boy, am I looking forward to that. 

Days six and seven, the tour diaries prologue

Day six

Monday November 8

Mark:

On the way back from the airport bus to Dublin city centre I have the radio on my headphones. Out of nowhere, the DJ starts talking about a show he saw in London’s West End recently. Pride And Prejudice (Sort Of). Says it’s the funniest thing he’s seen in a long time. 

MJ calls me today. He’s an old friend from Cork and is one of the most positive, talented and hardest working people I’ve ever met. Apart from it just being cool to get in touch with him again, he is someone I would like to know about what we’re doing simply because he’s always all over the place in all kinds of interesting creative projects so you just never know what he’s into or who he’s dealing with. I don’t plan on asking for anything, I just want to give him the heads up and leave that to settle. He totally gets it and is thrilled to hear of everything that’s been going on and basically gets a real kick out of hearing the story, where we are with it and what we’re planning to do next. But after the initial hellos and how the hell are you doings and all that, I ask what he’s been up to. Well, that Mr DJ’s favourite new show, MJ’s only the sound designer for it, developing the songs. There’s kudos. My old mate. All the way to the West End. Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person. So yeah, he is quite well positioned. And of course, as you’d imagine, a whole load of other stuff going on as well, including an independent record deal and an actual vinyl album on the way. I’ll give that a little plug when I hear all things are finalised and it’s available.

This is a really wonderful and energetic chat and we cover a lot of ground. But it’s also cool that we don’t get nostalgic at all with talking about old respective glories and adventures – among other things, he was once in my band and I depped with his.

Later on me and Maja are on the phone for four hours. It’s a full on hang out and an evening in itself. Once we’re done, not far off midnight, it’s movie time. Some Kind Of Monster, the docu-movie that almost inadvertently ended up covering the break up of Metallica. Before I put it on, I go and bring the guitar up from the studio. I think it will be good to just have it to hand.

A little way into the movie, maybe inspired by all its studio vibes, I pick the guitar up and start to work on a little idea we called Shine, from the two hour random material listening session we did on Thursday. Snatches of ideas start to come. For the following three hours I alternate between the movie and the song. Write till I feel there’s no idea left, back to the movie. Oh. Idea. Back to the song. And on it goes. I continue with this until I feel totally dry and really can’t do anymore. By the time lights go out, I’m nowhere near the end of the movie. They haven’t mentioned looking for a bass player yet.

Day seven

Tuesday November 9

Mark:

I’m woken sometime around 8:30am with ideas rattling round my head for the break in When I’m With You. This was supposed to be in Friday’s set but a few things with it just weren’t sitting right and the issues centred around the break. By 9 I’m up, pen, paper and guitar, and within a few minutes I have a new break. Oh man I feel ON. Today will be just songwriting. I can really feel it. Shine is well on its way and there are so many other ideas flying about that I just have to get hold of.

Yeah. It worked to have the guitar in here. If I hadn’t, I’m not sure I would have got to my writing session last night. And it was really nice to have it just sitting there this morning to get up and hit it straight away with what was in my head and to have the idea come out like that.

There and then I realise it’s not enough to have the guitar here for whenever I want it. I want the full studio setup. So I go downstairs and, in relays, bring up everything else for recording. It’s not a huge mission to be fair, but it’s so cool to now have it all here at the end of the bed. Mic stand and mic. Music stand. Interface and cable, headphones and external speaker monitor. Along with guitar and stand. And of course the computer. I also bring up the small coffee table to use as a desk and the wooden mini step ladder that also serves as a chair. This would not work if the two of us are here. Bedroom is bedroom and studio is studio. For very good reason. If one of us wants to go do something at 2am, we can, by going downstairs to a whole other room. Completely defeats the purpose to have it all in here. But with me on my own, I’m not disturbing anyone so I can have it here. Also, while the studio does get natural light from the back window out to the back garden, the front window is on the street. Not only do we want privacy in here, but we also don’t want to advertise all the music stuff we have. The basses, the amps, and other bits and pieces. Upstairs, I can have the blinds open and all the natural light you could want. Our studio is simply the coolest room I’ve ever had in any house I’ve ever lived in and I know it’s the same for Maja. And she’s just the tiniest bit sad when she hears later I’ve done this. But I’ve always thought it would be nice to have the window, and for right now, it makes total sense for me to have studio and bedroom as the same space. 

Set up like I am now, I get right to it examining and playing through the ideas I came up with last night. By 11:30 I’ve got a song written and done a one track recording of it on my phone to send to Maja. I love it love it love it and I know Maja will too. I just know she will flip when she hears this.

My plan now is to take a break, and then get onto some of the other ideas. I fully expect to get another song out of today. Maybe even another two. And in between I plan to get a few guitar parts down for Maja of our existing songs. 

Maja’s on the phone. She says nothing about the song. She doesn’t know I’ve sent her anything. But then she says she’s listened to it. This is not very encouraging. Then it gets even less so. ‘What do you think of it?’ she asks. This is not a good sign. It’s like when you finish a gig or a jam and someone says, ‘Did you enjoy that?’ They didn’t like it but don’t want to hurt your feelings so they fill the gap with something they think will be nice right where their opinion should be.

Maja:

Oh, I only got time to listen to it once and the recording was a one track demo so I didn’t really want to give an opinion about it even before listening to it again. I tell Mark ‘The first time was a bit meh, and I remember so vividly how it felt when we were working on the songs in progress a couple of days ago. I want it to feel like that. I’m not even sure what’s wrong, please let me get back to you.’

Mark:

Oh well. I’m honest about it and tell Maja I was really excited about this one, and that I’m crushed. She in turn says she’s heartbroken to hear that but I rush to tell her I’m actually encouraged. It shows the honesty and that she’s not put off by hurting my feelings although it’s clear she’s not enjoying this. ‘Look,’ I say. ‘When people go around in music creation trying not to hurt people’s feelings you end up with St Anger.’ This is the album Metallica ended up making in that documentary I was watching last night. It’s pretty much unanimously agreed that it is a terrible album by a great band. But one of the reasons it happened, in my opinion, is that they decided to be too nice to each other. Brutal honesty disappeared and total mediocrity entered. 

So we get into a chat about what’s wrong with it. Maja thinks I’ve lost the vibe of the original idea. Fair enough. So we talk about how we could get that back without throwing the whole thing out. She says she’s going to have another listen and get back to me with some more specific ideas. One of my thoughts here is that I should have let the song sit for a day or two before sending it, then I might have come to the same conclusions. One thing about songwriting is that so many times you can get so excited about a new song you think it’s the best thing you’ve ever written, and then the next day listen to it and wonder what the hell you were thinking.

About half an hour later Maja calls again. I love it. Forget everything you were planning on doing today and record that for me to work on. We break down what’s just happened in the past half hour. Maja sat down to listen to it to analyse what she didn’t like. As she listened, she thought, ‘Actually, I like that part. I like the way it does that. I like that bit that’s totally different to the rest of it and makes it sound like two songs mashed together. Oh. I like it.’

Maja:

I just love it. Yeah. It is true to what I already knew it was and could be. Now I have something to work on. Brilliant. Well done.

Mark:

Wow. I get on it. But it proves a really hard guitar part to get down. It has to be really energetic but tight and it’s so hard not to speed up, even on the metronome. And I’m not sure if it is a difficult song to remember – not technically, but there are a few dips and changes to go through – or if it’s just so new I’m thinking about too much to be able to play it cleanly. Also, as I’m playing without vocals, it’s so hard to internalise what’s happening and when to hit changes, especially in some of the longer passages. In the end I decide to record a really boring one-two-three guitar part. All just down strumming exactly on each metronome beat while gently singing the song to keep myself in place. The idea then is to record a vocal over this. Not a good vocal, just a perfect in-time vocal with every single syllable exactly where it’s supposed to be. It’s enough of a job just to get those two things done, complete with vocal drop-ins to correct every tiny timing mistake, to make sure the vocal matches the metronome. Because when I come to play a guitar take, any vocals not right on the beat will throw me off. 

Later that night I get to it again, transposing the guitar part to a different key to open up the chords a lot more which also has the effect of moving it up half a step; I’d written it in F# with all barre chords. It’s now in G with all open chords. A whole lot more dynamic. I record a one track version on the phone like this then two more versions in different keys to give Maja options when she listens to it. 

By the time I’ve done all that it’s 1am

Day eight, the tour diaries prologue

Day eight

Wednesday November 10

Mark:

First thing I send Maja the three versions I recorded last night and then hit the studio. Damn it’s hard. All the songs we’ve recorded so far I’ve gone into the studio and just laid the whole guitar part down first time. Or hit a minor bubble, started again and nailed it. I’ve even been recording multiple guitar parts for songs – the same part tracked. Again, in and out. This one, I just can’t get it to work. Either can’t stay on the metronome or forget how long parts are supposed to be, all kinds of stuff. It doesn’t help that. Oh, and having changed the chords from barre to open last night, the first thing I have to do is redo that simple recording concept I did last night before I can even get started.

By the time I’ve got that done and am taking a studio and screen break to get ready to go in again, Maja has other ideas for us. This very prologue thing you’re reading right now. She’s been writing her bits and pieces to get us up to date with last Saturday, meaning she’s now finished her parts covering the gig, and the next day and everything up to all that. And she’s been reconfiguring the website to include The Tour Diaries, and made whole chunks of the thing easier to use and more attractive to look at. It’s all astonishing work, not least because she’s done it while being preoccupied with surgery first thing tomorrow morning, but yes, she also wanted to get it done before then so that I could start contacting people and basically sending us out to the wider world. We’d already agreed that if she hadn’t got to this stage I would have just started running with what we have, but she has done it. So now she needs me to do a final thing myself which is to check her writings for English and to add any reactions I might have to what she’s written into the actual Diary. Once I’ve got onto that, we are done. We are ready.

Maja:

I’m just absolutely delighted I was able to finish writing the tour diary prologue, and update the website to actually feature it in a nice way. I also did a couple of improvements and I think the whole thing is becoming even more user friendly. I have a couple of more ideas of improvements I want to do to optimize usability, but I don’t know if they’d be doable without too much effort. I have a European tour to prepare for so my time is really limited.

Mark:

So what we have now is:

The Tour Diaries prologue up to and including our first gig.

The Diaries. Admittedly a long way behind, but they are there.

The website itself.

A whole bunch of different pitches written for different disciplines which can be easily personalised. 

A back of the book type presentation, which I’ve just decided I’ll give you in here in a minute.

Tracks recorded and up.

And a gig that went pretty well which really helps in the confidence stakes when I’m telling people what we can do.

Which, by definition means we have the set together to do a gig. It’s around half an hour with a few more songs in touching distance of being ready.

On top of that, we have our cards and beermats and a whole lot of merchandising ideas for stuff we can easily put together and transport in bulk in a car.

That back of the book thing

Maja’s life is falling apart. Living in Sweden, her marriage is crumbling along with her fledgling dreams of playing music professionally. 

Mark is an experienced professional musician living in lockdown London. He becomes Maja’s online music tutor and mentor. He has no idea of the turmoil in her life.

With nowhere else to turn, Maja confides in Mark who says, ‘You could come here.’

Exactly one week later they meet for the first time at Heathrow Airport. Before they arrive at Mark’s house they are an item.

Problems

Brexit. Maja can’t stay in England long term, and Mark can’t live in Europe.

Corona. Travel restrictions are in place all over the world, removing any other options.

Solution

Realising they can both live in Ireland, The Diaries move from central London to a tiny town in the Irish countryside where they set up their own studio. This becomes the staging post for songwriting and recording as they prepare for their next step – touring the world.

The Diaries series is a true, inspiring, and living story of love, music, and travel set against impossible odds, all told with an unwavering sense of fun and optimism.

Day nine, the tour diaries prologue

Day nine

Thursday November 11

Maja:

Today is finally time for my dreaded and anticipated hand surgery. I arrive early and get to meet the hand surgeon who explains the procedure; they are planning keyhole surgery, and depending on the findings they might not need to reopen the old incision. They are removing a ganglion, and that ganglion is just under my thumb, next to a big artery. Usually ganglions have a root, and they hope to find that root, remove the root from the inside and then it hopefully won’t reappear again. The ganglion will then disappear in a couple of weeks or months. I feel very positive about this as I go into surgery. I get dressed in the hospital gown, and wait for my turn in the assigned bed in the wakeup area. I get to chat with the nurses, and have a nice chat with the nurse from my last surgery. She remembers me and we chat about what’s been happening with the music and my move to Ireland since last time. It’s nice to be remembered. As the time drags closer it’s my turn and I follow the nurses to the operating theatre. The room is quite big and I don’t really get a proper look around since everything goes so quickly. There’s a small board/bed like object in the middle of the room which I am instructed to lie down on. They cover my body in a couple of blankets because the room is properly cold, and I am shivering. They strap me in with a safety belt on top of the blankets, I guess in case I start to roll over or move or something. On my right arm they check my blood pressure. I also have an IV inserted into that arm. My left arm is getting disinfected and I’m asked to hold it up in the other direction. After it is properly disinfected, it gets covered in a sterile cloth and I lose sight of it. It feels very awkward lying here in the same position as Jesus on the cross. Without any control over my arms. The nurse holds the gas element over my mouth, and I focus on her eyelashes as I breath in the gas. Her eyelashes are slightly lumped together with mascara.

Next thing, I am in another room feeling completely dislocated and my hand is enormous. It takes quite a while before I am able to properly wake up. When I am more awake I get a cup of tea, apple juice, a sandwich and chocolate which I absentmindedly eat. I’m still groggy. When the surgeon comes by I am finally awake enough to have the conversation. He had opened up six holes on the back of my hand for the keyhole surgery, but he couldn’t find the root of the ganglion. But he found some other tissue injury on the back of the hand which he fixed. As for the ganglion, he had to open up the wrist up where the old incision was and remove the ganglion. He then said that he burned the area to prevent it from coming back again. But there’s still a chance it might come back again, and then he might not want to surgically remove it again. 

I am absolutely devastated. It might come back and if it does, he might not want to take it out again. I can barely call a surgery like this a success. 

When I get home, I’m sad and in pain. It might be fixed, but I am mourning since it might not be. I don’t want to live with that thing on my hand, restricting my movements. Please. Let it never come back. Please.

Mark:

Maja’s into surgery first thing this morning so I know I won’t be hearing from her for a while, although we do have an early morning call and keep in touch right up to when she goes in.

Now I start to send pitches. The bulk of this will just be researching who to send it to and just sending it and hope they get back. I’m looking at sending to different types of publication, both on and offline proposing a regular feature of The Tour Diaries once we get on the road in December. And there will also be book pitches to be sent and literary agents. And I’m also trying to get us on an established tour, either something to make us change our plans for December or, more likely, something starting hopefully early next year.

What I can say is that the people I want to get our stuff to really do not want to be called. I get it. You work for a music publication. The world and his mother either wants to be writing for that publication or being written about by it. That’s a lot of people looking for their attention. If you were able to call, they’d never be off the phone dealing with just that stuff. So, email us please. If we like it, we’ll call you. Fine.

But there is one person I can speak to. I hope. I know we’re not right for him, but he might just know someone we will be right for, then I can go to them with his name and his blessing. And it will be nice to start with at least one friendly phonecall where I might just get the time of day and a little more besides. This is to John Dolan who was my boss when I was a music writer and general feature writer on The Evening Echo in Cork.

The mad thing here is, he was already going to be my first attempted point of contact today. He popped up on my social media last night and we had a little hello and I let him know I was living in Ireland. Which he said he would be interested in knowing more about. Well, he’s about to get the full lowdown.

I message him first thing saying I have something I would like to talk about and I leave my number, and he’s back to me almost immediately with his number saying I can call anytime. I’m on it immediately and we have the most wonderful catch up and chat. He’s hugely enthusiastic about all that we’re doing and says that yes, it really sounds like something the right kinds of publications would be very happy to work with and would pay for. Not his as they have a more specific brief, but then I knew that. What he does do is give me the name of the right person to speak to on one of the nationals. And I can drop his name in there. Brilliant brilliant. Thankyou very much. I’m on it. I call that newspaper office, expecting to be put through and to tell that person I’m an ex colleague of John’s and a former fellow journo and all that. But reception tells me all journalists are working from home, can’t be called and here’s her email address. Great. My one solid contact, complete with reference, and all I can do is email and hope it gets picked up. At least I’m able to mention my association with her friend and colleague in the subject field but that really isn’t the impact I was looking for.

After this, it’s onto the numbers game of identifying publications, trying to identify the right person if possible and sending the right kind of email.

Out of office hours and it’s back to recording, finally succeeding in getting a vocal down that’s absolutely on the line for every single syllable. 

Day 10, the tour diaries prologue

Day 10

Friday November 12

Mark:

7am and I’m up and on the guitar to prepare this song for recording. In the kitchen with yesterday’s vocal track playing and the metronome on. I’m working on internalising this guitar part and getting it totally locked. A lot of this is just looping the intro and the first verse, really nailing it with the vocals.

I get that done, complete with double tracked vocals, and send it to Maja, she loves it and asks for another version in a different key. This means repeating the whole recording process all over again. But I have this now and little more than an hour later I have that too. Then I decide to learn the next song she wants for recording – an old one of mine called Does It Matter. 

Maja:

With very few exceptions, there are no proper studio recordings of Mark’s old songs. It’s mainly simple demos that he recorded by himself which I have listened to. And recently, listening to them, I have really started to feel Does It Matter. I want to do that one, and feel confident that I can perform it in a good way. I want to blow life into that song. 

Mark:

In a way Maja has blown life into so many of the songs. She really is making them feel brand new, even to me and it’s really mad to be hearing and especially playing some of them again, while at the same time adding new material to the pile that we feel equally good about.

After a solid day of practice and recording I’m totally done. And it’s bar time. This will be the first time I’ve been to The Trap since we played.

I am in no way prepared for what meets me. At first it’s kinda gentle. Just chatting and hanging out with a few of the regulars, mainly Breda and Mick. Then out of nowhere, Breda says to me, ‘Your song, I Like You Better When I’m Naked. That’s the best song I’ve heard for years.’ And I won’t say who, but someone asks if I’d be interested in selling them the rights for it. I won’t say how much for either, but I think they’re actually serious. No no and no. Breda again. ‘That song is a hit. You really should sell the rights.’ I really think I shouldn’t. She then tells me that last week we absolutely blew up on Snapchat. Wow. OK.

Maja:

No way we’re selling those rights. As a 50% shareholder, I am putting my veto in. Not happening.

Mark:

Meeting adjourned. Rights stay where they are.

Then the landlord Jimmy suggests I go and see what’s happening out back. So I do. Damn. It’s a full on wedding afters. The band is really cool – just acoustic guitar, cajon and a frontman but they really make it work. I say hi to a few people I know then go back into the front bar. A little while later, our new friend Eileen grabs me and leads me to the buffet area where the band are taking a break and hanging out. She introduces me to them as a songwriter. Cool. So we have a bit of a chat there before they go back out, and we’re joined by Adam, a well known DJ in the town who’ll be doing this thing later on. 

When the band kicks off again, I feel like checking them out so back in I go. I’ve been in a few minutes when Cyvina comes up to me. She’s the girl who first got Maja to sing in here a few days before our show. She didn’t make it to our Friday night, but she says to me now, ‘Do you know you guys have gone viral?’ Sorry? What? Your show last week. It blew up on Facebook. She shows me some stuff now. Three videos, all with hundreds of comments, a combined total or around a thousand likes, and whole bunches of shares. One video of our A Capella song Bang Bang, which we wrote the night before the show, has had well over 500 likes and over 50 shares. I don’t know what really constitutes as viral, but if you consider the local numbers, this is quite significant. This town has 3,500 people and the biggest town in the county, Tullamore, ten minutes down the road, only has 15,000. And to put it into even more perspective, when The Trap announced it was reopening after lockdown, that post got just 20 shares. It’s now that I start to realise that I’m kinda being recognised. A girl I’ve never seen before comes up to me and says, ‘I thought you guys were on tour.’ To which I reply we soon will be, but Maja has gone to Sweden and we’ll be meeting in Berlin in a few weeks. OK. She’s satisfied with that answer. 

As for the ‘viral’ videos, I’m really sorry to report that I don’t have the Facebook links. What I subsequently learn is that Cyvina just happened to be looking at a message as she saw me, scrolled down that person’s feed, and found the videos and then grabbed me and showed me. She’s then very quickly off before I get the chance to ask her to copy the link and send it to me, and I think I’ll see her later on but I just don’t. Moving forwards, she was later unable to remember whose page they were on and so far, I’ve not been able to find them to see what else is going on or to engage with people. It feels like a big missed opportunity and I’m kicking myself for not being quicker in the moment, but it really didn’t feel like an urgent enough thing to try to stop her from running off, and she will tell me she’s kicking herself for not being more on the ball in the moment as well. But it’s fine. I saw it, and I can just feel recognition in the air. Being in here tonight, I can see that we really have tickled some kind of consciousness.

Maja:

I’m so envious. Ridiculously envious. So I’ve been performing and been grabbing these peoples hearts, but, really, I have no way of knowing that except through Mark. He tells me all kinds of stories when we talk in the evening. I’m lying in bed, trying to rest and am feeling sorry for myself with my hand resting on a pillow. It hurts too much to have it on the bed. So someone tried to buy the rights to our song at the bar? Wait what? That’s just mad. And people are recognising you? And asking about me? Wait what? I don’t even know anyone there. I mean I’ve kinda half chatted to some people at the bar, but not even that much. This just feels strange. And amazing. I wonder what people would tell me if I was there. Would they care? Would they love me? Try to take photos? Would heads turn? Would whispers spread? Am I having hubris, or would those things actually happen? I have no idea. Maybe they would demand a performance like last Wednesday? That was just crazy and I really didn’t wish to sing that night, but it was still amazing to be so popular that I couldn’t refuse a request like that. Everything feels so unreal as I lie in bed, fantasizing about fame, the very same bed I slept in as a teenager. The very same room I lived in as a teenager. I remember so many nights lying here, speaking on the phone, dreaming about the future. Dreaming about my next trip, my next adventure. So here I am, once again, lying here, dreaming. But this time the dreams feel so unreal. So I am dreaming about becoming something of a pop/rock star. It just feels so unrealistic to even type, but it just feels like it is going to happen. It feels like I’m telling you we’re expecting rain tomorrow. It’s just going to happen. Of course I don’t know that, as you never know that it is actually going to rain.

Mark: 

We live in Ireland. It’s going to rain tomorrow.

Maja:

But right now, speaking with Mark about what happened at the bar today, it feels like it’s going to happen. And thinking about that feels just mad. It makes me excited, but also very sad that I am not there to see the reactions for myself. It would be amazing to see, but I can’t. But that might be for the best, who knows? What I can do is just to lie here in bed, rest and dream. Dream about everything that can be. Everything I will make happen.

Day 12 to 27, the tour diaries prologue

Day 12

Sunday November 14

Mark:

Sometimes if one of us can’t get to sleep – normally me – one of us might go to the other room for the night. Again, normally me. When I wake up I’m surprised to see Maja isn’t next to me. My immediate reaction is to wonder why she slept in the other room last night. Then I suddenly wake up properly and realise where she is. Oh. Silly boy.

Once I’m up and awake, I decide to get a pretty significant job off my to do list. Record the set for Maja on just guitar so that she’s able to practice by herself with this to run through. I go into the studio for that and it actually turns out to be really good practice for me as well, playing the songs through without any vocals. And also just playing the songs through because if you don’t do this every now and again, they can disappear from your mind and be a hassle to get back again. Also, seeing as one of my next things is going to be to start getting to recording all these for Maja to make actual demos of in Sweden, it’s great practice there. 

Maja:

We’re optimistically thinking that I’ll actually be able to record any of the demos and yes, I’d love to do it. But I’m not in shape to start yet, but maybe I’ll get to it either here in Sweden or maybe in Germany, so it’s great to have them. 

Day 13

Monday November 15

Mark:

I really thought there would be a lot more publishing opportunities than there seems to be. I’m not talking books, more magazines and newspapers and their online equivalents. I thought there would be almost countless opportunities to target and maybe build up some kind of syndication or portfolio that could serve as an instant income stream and constant publicity, but now I’m looking up close, I see that we really fall through the gaps of so many; not quite completely music and not quite completely travel. And when you’re looking at publications around the world, they generally have one thing in common. They feature people from their catchment area. So American press, if they were to feature anyone abroad, would feature Americans and so on. We just don’t seem to be hitting the buttons hard enough and pretty much falling through the cracks. 

Maja:

It’s just great that Mark’s on this. Hopefully we’ll be able to catch someone’s eye. I think we have something cool going on. If this is not worth publishing, I honestly don’t know what is.

Day 14

Tuesday November 16

Mark:

I settle into a pattern over the next few days of recording tracks for Maja to work on in Sweden and contacting venues in Berlin. And looking at all the Irish bars they have there that might not have music regularly or at all, but we think we could go in and persuade them to let us do our half hour thing. There really is no point contacting them though. I have enough experience of this with bars through my years booking and hustling with The Insiders. Music venues, yes. Email them, or maybe even call them, but most don’t like being called as I’m seeing here. But bars? Forget it. You have to walk in, find a manager, and talk to them. Then, maybe, just maybe.

So my thing now is mostly being in the studio for recording and calling and emailing. With this, I move everything back downstairs and start utilising our wonderful studio space again. It really was fun to have it all in the bedroom but equally, it’s feels great to be back in here again.

The plan now is for everything to have two identical guitar tracks to thicken that out, then under there, bass which may well be barely audible and just enough to lift the guitar tracks. Then we’ll have some light percussion and of course the vocals. The idea is to be able to present a representation of us that is big and lively, but not so much that we’re selling ourselves on false pretences. You know, wonderful grooving basslines locked into supercool drums, people hear it, book us for their band night, then we turn up with just a single guitar. 

So yeah. Next few days is just totally on that. I have work to do.

Maja:

And I’m just sleeping. Glad someone is doing the work.

Day 18

Saturday November 20

Mark:

I’m not really one for going out to a bar with nothing going on on the offchance. If there’s a gig on, or a jam, or sport, or anything really, great. Then I can happily hang on my own and get talking to people, either strangers or people I know however vaguely. Tonight works as a go-ey out thing. Saturday night in The Trap is band night so yeah, I’m there

Almost immediately I bump into Adam, Steve and a few of their friends. They start telling anyone around us that I’m in the next U2, and they ask about Maja and how she’s doing. Then Adam sings, ‘I like you better when you’re naked,’ at me. Wow. This thing has really hit. Now there are a whole bunch of guys at a table behind us and Adam and Steve want to introduce me to them. There’s a band in here and it’s a bit loud so no-one can really talk much and we can’t even really do introductions. But the guys at the table make it clear they know of me. Before I know it, I’m centre of a whole bunch of guys and pictures are being taken. Then I’m picked up like a trophy. And pictures are being taken. Or video. I have no idea. Is this a ‘we’re with the guy in the band’ moment or a ‘Let’s make fun of the guy in the band’ moment? I have no idea but it all feels like good times Saturday night times. And just like last week, a few people come up to me and ask when the tour’s beginning and ask where my girlfriend is. And just like last week, I don’t know anyone who’s asking. Seems like we’re getting around this town.

I settle in and basically have a great night among the regulars, mingling in and out with people. And afterwards Maja calls to hear all about it. Once more she’s feeling thrilled and totally left out at the same time. And once more, I tell her she’s the coolest person in town precisely because she’s not here.

Maja:

Come on. This is just mad. What’s even the deal with this? Someone just picked you up? To take photos, or videos? And I was the one singing? No-one has ever done anything even similar to me. It’s mad. And amazing. I am envious beyond, but at the same time so happy that it is happening. It’s absurd being here and just hearing about all the cool things that are happening in Ireland. 

Day 19

Sunday, November 21

Maja:

Mark is really trying his best to find publishers and magazines to monetise this project as quickly as possible, but I’m thinking we should focus a little more on what actually matters, the tour, producing music and writing diaries. We can’t allow ourselves to be derailed too long from the core project that is the diaries. We live life, do music and write about it. Right now, the music needs more attention, and we need to focus on that. Doing too many administrative tasks before we really have the music in place could be a little bit counterproductive. It’s important to stay focused, and I don’t think that we can do too much until we’re on the ground. People are about meetings, and it’s easier to explain to someone when we’re there, face to face. I know these things take time, but we agree Mark should be focusing on music right now. We’re going to make this happen. We’ll find a way. We have a couple of ideas. Let’s see what we decide to do next.

Day 20

Monday November 22

Yep, and as we move into the last week in Ireland before Berlin, I’m really focussed on contacting venues to see what can be shaken out, and really just getting ourselves introduced. It’s pretty much that and prep work to make sure all the packing is in order, and the house is left in as good a shape as it can possibly be before I leave.

Day 22

Wednesday November 24

We have our first gig offer for Berlin. The Artliners, December 19. This quickly gets agreed and confirmed. We have lift off. 

Maja:

Just amazing. Someone actually got back to us with a gig offer. And it is going to be livestreamed, so anyone following The Diaries can actually tune in. Amazing. I can’t believe it is true. And no, I have absolutely no concept whatsoever of what it is actually going to be like to play it. But I look forward to it. A lot. It’s probably not that big, but surprise me. It’s going to be an amazing to experience. And I also think we’ll meet other musicians that are going to play there too, which I have never done before. I’ve never been to a gig like this before, not even as an audience member. My experience is a couple of concerts and rock gigs in Stockholm over ten years ago, but I have no idea if this is going to be similar in any way, shape or form. I just don’t know and that excites me. I hope we get a big audience, the bigger the better, but honestly I’m going to perform the same way regardless.

Day 23

Thursday Nov 25

Mark:

All the other replies coming in is from venues saying they’re not currently doing gigs because of Covid. This is a little concerning to say the least as it seems a real danger that Berlin could close down before we even get there. There’s already talk of other places in Europe talking about lockdowns. This is a bit of a concerning time and, while I know many other people have suffered much more from Covid, it would really be a blow to cancel our European tour this close to heading off after planning this for so long. Right back to that conversation on March 17, eight months ago. And all the preparation in Ireland. This really has been in the works a long time and it would be heartbreaking to have it all closed down before it even had a chance to begin.

Maja:

I guess this is the only thing that worries me. Eventual lockdowns and other impossibilities because of covid. But if that happens, we’ll just go back to Ireland and produce our album. Another thing I am nervous about is the hustling. Actually going into pubs and bars and asking for a gig. Could it really happen just like that? But this is Mark’s speciality so I’m going to leave the talking to him. I’ll command the room at our performances instead, that’s my job. That somehow feels easier right now. But I might learn how to do the hustling, who knows?

Today it is finally two weeks since the surgery and I get my bandages off. At the hospital, they cut off the bandages and I can finally see how my hand looks. It actually looks quite alright. The new incision follows the old one really nicely. It’s going to look like only one scar when it’s healed. As for the keyhole surgery, I find 5 holes at the back of my hand that kind of look like staples. They’re black and straight. It is really painful on both the backside of the hand and the front, and a lot of bruising. But that is going to go away real soon. I get to meet another surgeon and talk a little and then I get two wrist supports. One for more day to day activities if I want to use it, and one for training, so that I won’t hurt it doing more strenuous activities. Such as push ups. The surgeon expresses a lot of anger regarding push ups, and talks about how bad it is for young women with soft joints to do sports like that since it so easily wrecks their wrists. She’s apparently seen many people like me. Young active women with wrecked wrists. Which is quite sad since we’re encouraged to do push ups, but no one is talking about the dangers with it. Only the benefits. So beware, if you have soft joints, push ups can actually be bad for you and wreck your wrists, and then you’ll have surgery. Twice maybe more. As I had. But an encouraging thing we spoke about was guitar/bass playing and she doesn’t think that that will make the ganglion come back. Which is great. 

I just hope it won’t come back full stop.

Day 24

Friday Nov 26

I’ve decided I don’t really want to go out tonight. So I don’t Instead, I stay in and write Insanity. This is from a fragment of a song idea I started messing about with a few weeks ago which was centred around lyrics we wrote back in London in Maja’s first few weeks there, with the concept coming from Maja’s own thoughts and experiences. I’m now bashing and shaping this few pages of lyrics into melodies which fit what I’m working on now. I get it finished, roughly recorded and send it to Maja. She gets back to me immediately. 

Maja:

Insanity! It’s insane. It’s just amazing. And I remember very well when we started with the lyrics back in Carol Close, in London. It was lovely being next to Mark. And now, I’m struggling with multiple feelings. I really really wish I was there so I could be more present in what he is doing, but I am also so happy that he finds the motivation and time to write music. It’s great. But I’m still sad. I feel left out. Left out of something that feels so incredibly personal to me. But I’m going to get the opportunity to put my spin on it as soon as we meet up and start working on it. I just wish I was there.

Mark:

With this I decide I will go out afterall. Off to The Trap where, as soon as I enter, a girl sitting at the bar who I don’t know insists on buying me a drink. Five minutes later, she and her friends leave. I’m now hanging out with a few of the regulars we’ve got to know quite well in here and who were at our show.

They start to talk to me about a bar in New York which is pretty much the Clara bar where a lot of people from Clara go and people from Offaly, who live in New York, frequent. They give me their surnames and say that if we go in there and mention we know them, and say we live in Clara, we will be assured of a warm welcome. With this, we suddenly have an in to New York.

Maja:

Every time Mark goes out something completely unexpected seems to happen. Which is amazing. So we have somewhere to begin in New York now. I’m not sure how much that actually means, but it is something that we definitely didn’t have yesterday.

Day 25

Saturday November 27

Band night at The Trap and I’m out for it. The place is packed when I enter around 9pm and I know a few of the guys around the bar in front of the band. Immediately they’re asking me if I can get up and do a song tonight. I bat the requests away, saying that no-one wants to hear me sing. Yes, me and Maja have spoken about it and agreed I won’t do any performances without her. Still, the insistences continue and I continue to politely refuse. But I can’t deny that this is really cool. 

Day 26

Sunday November 28

It’s Pat’s Sunday in The Goalpost in Tullamore but I can’t get hold of him and don’t want to assume I can just turn up and get a lift back. He might have canceled for any reason for a start. Or he might have plans for later. But really, I just don’t want to do him the dis-courtesy of just turning up expecting I can get a lift home without asking. And there really is no point taking the train because, by the time I’d arrive at the venue, I’d have already missed the last train home. 

I decide I’m quite cool with staying in and am getting well settled when my phone rings about 8:30. It’s Pat returning my call. I thank him very much for getting back, but say it’s too late now. I’ve already missed the last train out. No problem he says. He’s five minutes away, he can give me a lift there and back. Brilliant. Best get my proper skates on and get ready then. So I do.

We arrive and as he goes to his spot to set up, he sees someone at the table right in front that he knows. Hang on. I know him too. It’s the drummer from last night and Pat formally introduces us. His name’s John by the way. This is cool. Pat gets started, nice and lively so it’s not really possible for me and John to talk too much, but we do the clinky glasses thing and snatch little, inconsequential chats in between songs.

Later, we move over to the bar and it becomes a little easier to talk. We chat about John’s drumming experience – he really has a lot – and the live scene in general in Tullamore and the county. Then he asks what I’m up to musically. When I tell him I’m heading to Berlin to start a European tour the day after tomorrow, he totally recoils. ‘Oh wow,’ he says. ‘I’m talking to a celebrity.’ ‘No, no no,’ I assure him. But he won’t be dissuaded. We go back and forth and have a laugh about this and eventually, he concedes. A little. ‘OK, I’m talking to someone who’s going to be a celebrity.’ I’m happy to leave that one there.

Day 27

Monday November 29

Maja:

I’ve been fixing so much with the car recently. There are different laws and regulations in different countries in Europe, so I have to make sure I’m prepared for them. My car currently has winter tyres on, and the summer tyres are broken so I have bought new summer tyres that I am going to put on the car today. Which is crazy enough in itself. To put on summer tyres when it has just reached minus 8 degrees. But apparently it’s illegal to drive with the studded ones in Germany, so I guess I’ll have to drive around here with summer tyres for now. In the middle of winter. It’s still better to have the summer tyres on, because when I finally reach Ireland, it’s going to be summer weather. At least as far as tyres is concerned. I just hope it won’t start to snow until I leave, because I don’t think the hour drive to the ferry will be very safe otherwise. I also get the properly serviced. We’re planning on driving all over Europe and I don’t want it to break down on us so far from home.

Mark:

Nice little tickle, also while on the subject of cars. Our landlord, who’s always been super helpful when anything has popped up, has offered to give me a lift to Dublin airport tomorrow. He has something on there and says he’s happy to make the little detours to pick me up and then make the airport drop. So that’s me sorted for tomorrow. And it’s not even one of those early flights, so a nice, chilled, 11:30 departure time from the house. Absolutely brilliant.

The Berlin Diary, day four

Day four

Sunday December 5

Maja:

I am making a homesite for our musician friend Alex who we stayed with when we were in London recently, and who Mark has done session work for. He’s helping me with some production tips and tricks to help me be our producer and general sound engineer. It’s a great friend collaboration, where I do my part and he does his and we both get something we want out of it. Kinda like when I first met Mark and built his homesite as he mentored me through a few bass projects. And of course, both me and Ales love helping each other out since we’re friends. I’ve been quite busy recently with preparing for the tour, but we planned a little phone call this morning. Apart from talking about those projects, we also talk a little bit about us playing together in maybe March/April. We’ve not completely worked out in what way we’ll play together yet, but that’ll inevitably mean that me and Mark will take The Diaries to London as a continuation of our European tour. I can’t wait.

Mark:

Oh dear. We go out to get supplied up and maybe bring back something for breakfast, only to discover today that all shops in Berlin are closed on Sundays. We do subsequently learn that a few do open a little later in the day but for now we have no idea of that. All we encounter is locked doors and dark premises. The bizarrest part of all this is when we get to the shopping centre near our hostel and it’s totally open. But when we go in and walk around, we discover everything inside is closed. So it’s off to a cafe to pick up a few sandwiches for breakfast to take back to the hostel kitchen. Once there, we find all our new friends hanging out. Mattheus from Poland, Cintia from Croatia, Katia from Modova, and Didier. We join them and get stuck into our chicken, mozzarella and tomato wraps. Which turn out to contain just mozzarella and a single slice of tomato. Oh well. Someone made a mistake somewhere. They’re still quite good and we’re really too hungry to care. While we’re there, a guy we’ve never met called Eric turns up and is enthusiastically called over by our new friends. He’s from Ireland, seems really cool and gently spoken, and our little nascent crew has now grown a little. The guys ask what we’re up to tonight and we tell them we’ve decided to start having a look at the open mic scene. I used to run an open mic myself, have been to many more, and I know what great networking opportunities they can be. Especially to introduce yourself to a new scene; the general audience, of course, but also other songwriters and musicians you could end up doing stuff with and becoming friends with, and the people themselves who run the things. Open mics can be where so many people, connected to so many facets across a city, come together. Put on a good display and be a good hang at enough of them and you really can start to make inroads into the musical fabric of a place. Apart from anything else, throw yourself around enough and talk to enough people and you start to get to know what’s going on around a place as well. Mondays and Tuesdays are particularly good for them as not much else is going on generally, but Sundays too, and sometimes into Wednesdays. We’ve had an internet look around and have decided on a place called Madame Claude’s tonight. We’ve also identified places to go tomorrow and Tuesday, with all sign up times at 7pm. I did email Madame Claude’s before leaving Ireland but got no reply. Well, an automated reply with some info about the venue, but nothing from an actual person. So now we’re just going to go.

We take it easy for the rest of the day and then later catch up with Cintia, Matheus and Eric in the common room again and tell them our plans. We’re all going to leave around 6:30 but when that time comes they’re not quite ready. They understand that we can’t hang around as we can’t miss sign up, and say that they’ll follow along about ten minutes behind us. Cool. We head off across the river and into the dark side streets of Berlin’s Kreuzberg district. Tourists tramping the beaten path are not going to find a place like this. It belongs to Berliners. And maybe some of your more intrepid explorers. As we approach the address, the darkness of the street does not abate. Closer and closer. No lights, no sound. We even walk past it without realising. Then back again. There it is. Kinda. It looks more like a wall of flyers and posters than the entrance to a venue. But no. Definitely nothing happening here tonight. Oh. We stand there not really knowing what to do. Our friends will be on their way, we think. Or maybe not. Who knows? We have no way of contacting them. We stare at the locked, dark door for probably longer than anyone really should, but the truth is we have no idea of our next move. Then we hear, ‘It’s closed tonight.’ We turn round and see a tall figure silhouetted in the glare of a streetlight. Some kind of maintenance work we believe. ‘I saw you guys probably loitering a bit too much and thought I’d just let you know,’ he continues. OK. ‘I’m going to a gig a little way from here,’ he says somewhat cryptically. He’s not making any sign of moving away. Are we in conversation now? ‘What gig?’ I ask. ‘A friend of mine is in a band opening up for the main act. I’m walking down there now.’ That really does sound like an invitation without being an invitation. I step right into it. ‘As you can see,’ I begin, indicating to the guitar case on my back, ‘we were hoping to play the open mic here tonight but, you know. It would be cool if we could follow along to your thing. If you’re cool with that.’ ‘Yeah cool.’ ‘Great. I’m Mark and this is Maja.’ ‘Joel. Pleased to meet you.’ Introductions done, he sets off and we just fall in step with him. ‘The first thing we have to do,’ he says, ‘is go and get tested. It’s a new thing. You can’t get in anywhere without a negative test first.’ OK. We’re just following his lead. We walk for five minutes or so and come across a locked portakabin type thing. ‘Oh. I was going to do it here,’ he says. ‘I know another place.’ And off we go in a totally different direction. This time, after another ten minutes or so, we come to what looks like a teeny tiny mini tented field hospital with a desk at the open front of it and a medical type of person, who must be freezing by the way, standing behind it. There’s only one person getting tested as we arrive, and no-one waiting. That person is taking a while with their admin or whatever so we wait patiently. Joel says he has to go home and get something he forgot so we carry on here. After a few minutes, we hear from behind us, ‘Are you guys playing somewhere tonight?’ We turn around to see a guy and a girl we have never seen before and the guy is pointing at the guitar on my back. ‘Well, we were.’ I say, and mention the open mic that isn’t happening. ‘We’re out here checking out different bands,’ he says. ‘Well, this is us.’ And I give him our card. ‘Oh!’ he exclaims. ‘You guys are The Diaries? It’s you we were coming out to see tonight.’

‘What now?’ He introduces himself as Liam and his partner as Maddie and I introduce myself and Maja. Liam then says, ‘Yeah, we got talking to those guys over there at the hostel and they said they were coming out to see you and, here we are.’ I look and, sitting ‘over there’ are Cintia, Mattheus and Eric. Oh cool. We’ve managed to find each other out here, when me and Maja had already started wandering all different directions. 

Maja:

I’ve been really anxious about getting separated from our newfound friends coming out to see us play, so I get incredibly relieved as soon as we find them again. And meeting Liam and Maddie is just over the top amazing. 

Mark:

We get ourselves tested and go over and say hi, then announce to them, and our new friends, that the place we were going to is closed, and that we have new plans if they want to come along. Of course they do. When Joel gets back, I introduce everyone to him and he’s only too happy to have a few more tag-alongers. Well, happy is probably too strong a word. Willing would be more like it. As we walk, he and I chat about Berlin and things in general and he says he’s a casual sculpture. Cool. We also talk about the possible lockdowns here and if things are likely to close around us. ‘I think you guys will be fine,’ he says. ‘If you’ve already played and have anything booked in, I’d say it’s all going to continue and you’ll probably be able to play a little more.’ This is really great to hear from an actual Berliner that we should more or less be able to continue as we are, at least for the period we intend to be here for, and as long as we continue with the testing thing anytime we intend to go anywhere. Yes, it’s only one person’s view and things could change but hey, we’ve already played two shows and proved we can come here, sight unseen and make things happen. If it all closes down tomorrow, we’ll take that.

It’s quite a long walk to wherever this venue is and full of twists and turns as we feel we’re being taken deeper and deeper into local knowledge Berlin. Past a whole bunch of traffic works and onto yet another dark street. Nothing happening here. We keep walking. Then, he announces we’re here. It’s a large, graffiti covered door that you could easily walk past. But he goes through it and we follow. First, there’s still nothing. Just a thick curtain. But the boom bass of music is evident. Through the curtain and we enter what looks like a pirate ship room with soft chairs scattered all about, all filled with people huddled round in circles in casual conversation. Across the room to the right is the bar, and directly ahead of us is another large curtain, from behind which the music is clearly coming. The attendant does the corona check thing and invites me to leave the guitar in a safe space behind her. Cool. Then she says that the band we’ve essentially come to see are only on their first song. Brilliant. And we’re in. Across the room and through the large curtain. Into…a real gig venue. Totally full and packed. Of course. Everyone’s been tested tonight and been given a negative result. So the venue can be safe that everyone’s fine. No masks and no social distancing. This feels. Well, normal. Or rather, not normal at all because, for me at least, I haven’t been to a gig venue where people can pack in like this for almost two years. In fact, I can actually tell you the last time. It was The Blues Kitchen in Camden, Sunday March 8, 2020. Shortly after, March 20 to be exact, bars in the UK were ordered to close by the government, and since then they’ve only been able to operate – when they’ve been able to open – under social distancing rules, to various levels of strictness, but there’s certainly been no bands playing with audiences all rubbing shoulders with each other. So yeah, this is the first time I’ve seen or experienced anything like this for almost two years. Did I say it looks like normal? Well no, it doesn’t look like normal. Because for all that time, this has ceased to be a thing. And now, it’s wonderful to see and to be a part of.

Maja:

Well lucky you. I haven’t been to a proper gig venue since… Well I don’t really know. When I was a teenager following the ‘big bands’ around as a little fangirl. Maybe 2008, who remembers exactly? Or I actually went to a little gig in Japan because I really wanted to see ‘Sore Demo Sekai Ga Tsuzuku Nara’, that was maybe 2015, but the feeling of that was nowhere like this. This is more, to the miniscule experience I’ve had, like the gigs I went to in Sweden. Where people actually headbang and the musicians scream/shout/sing their hearts out. It feels great. And I can’t help bouncing around to the German metal we have here and now that really moves the room. 

The band is called No Romance, Joel’s friend is on bass, and Loophole describes them as one of their favourites. You can check them out yourself here: https://noromancepls.bandcamp.com/

Mark:

For all this up to now, Joel has left us to go and hang out with someone he’s come here to specifically meet and we all hang at the back and take it all in, totally disbelieving at the turn the evening has taken from what was supposed to be a gentle singer-songwriter night somewhere in the vicinity of our neighbourhood. 

They finish and our guys are on me and Maja. ‘Hey,’ says Cintia. ‘Why don’t you try to play in this period now between the two bands? It’s only the two of you. It shouldn’t be too hard.’ I’m really not sure but they all become quite insistent, especially Liam and Maddie, who we will learn are huge live music fans and regular gig goers with a really good knowledge of venues and music scenes all across America. They manage to persuade me to at least try and I head off into the lobby area to see who I should talk to. First stop is the attendant at the door to try to find out who the promoter is. She points me towards a tall guy wearing a slightly floppy hat. I go over and introduce myself to him. He’s warm and welcoming and brightens up even more when I tell him I’m with a band on tour here and give him a card. This is when Maja turns up to hear him say, ‘There’s something I’ve got to take care of right now. Let me go and do that because I want to give you a real minute or two.’ Fair enough and quite brilliant. He runs down some mysterious stairs, then returns and says, ‘I’m all yours.’ He now introduces himself as Mikey from America. I introduce him to Maja, briefly tell him who we are and what we’ve been doing, and then say, I know it’s a cheeky ask, but would we be able to play a song or two right now in the break. He very politely and reasonably says that won’t be possible because the schedule tonight is too tight, but he gives me his email address and says to get in touch with our links and stuff and he’ll gladly see if he could arrange a slot for us in here sometime in the near future. Wow. Contact and brief, impromptu meeting with an actual Berlin promoter who’s clearly really got things going on. This is beginning to feel like deep infiltration into the scene on only our third real day exploring it. With that, we thank him very much for his time and let him go about his busy evening while we go and return to our friends. 

They’ve all piled out into the bar area and we tell them what’s just happened, then me and Maja chat a little more to Liam and Maddie who we didn’t get to talk to much on the way here. 

Maja:

Liam and Maddie are a couple from America and they have a lot of friends and contacts in the music scene in America. They live on the road with a campervan, so they often change locations. And they’re really excited about inviting us over, maybe to stay with them in their van for a while, but also helping us get in contact with some of their friends to organise gigs. Which is absolutely wonderful and beyond helpful in every way. We’re completely blown back by their open-heartedness and kindness and their engagement and positivity towards what we’re doing. I’m finding it hard to put the excitement and gratefulness we feel to words on a paper. Words just don’t do the feelings justice. It’s a bit sad that we won’t be able to play live for them while they’re here though. They really seem to want to see us play. I wonder if we’ll be able to fix that in any way?

Mark:

Like Mikey, they’re also from America and become particularly interested in our story. As it unfolds, they love it more and more and start to open up to us about their contacts in America. Without having heard us play, they’re happy to take us seriously purely by the fact that we’re out here and doing it. They tell us about venues they know across the States who they could introduce us to and where they could possibly plug us in. New York, LA, Nashville, and a few more places in between. They want to talk seriously to us sometime about how they could help us to really get across the venues if we want to go to America. Then, when they tell us they’re leaving Berlin tomorrow, we realise they really should at least have a real idea of what we are, so we offer to play a song or two for them when we get back tonight. They love that idea and so do the other guys. We also make sure to reciprocate their invitation, telling them they’re welcome to come and visit us in Ireland anytime. They love the idea of Ireland and of having a place to stay right in the centre of the country in real, out of the way town like Clara.

I leave them for a little while now to go and say hi to our de facto host for the evening Joel. He’s with his friends and this is the first time I’ve had the chance to really chat to him since we arrived. I really just want to say thankyou very much again for bringing us here and to tell him how much we love the place. And also to tell him that we’ve just hooked up with Mikey. He’s very pleased to hear all this. He introduces me around his little circle a little and tells me that himself and one or two others work at Madame Claudes and that we should pop in sometime and say hello. Wow. Another hit. We now know the bar staff of one of the cooler venues in town which also looks like it could be a really good place for us to play sometime should an opening become available. At the very least, this could be a great social connection to have. I know this very well from my time working in bars in London – to know the bar staff in a place is to have a shortcut to be able to easily talk to and get to know just about everybody else in there, at least the regulars. It really just makes going into a particular bar a lot more fun as you’re walking in as some kind of known entity, not an anonymous face off the street wondering what you’re doing there as you try to gain some kind of footing.

Maja:

Opening up the thick curtains to the stage room, and I once again get blown back with heavy metal screaming through the speakers. It’s an experience in itself just to be here. The music is pumping and I really like this one song that the second band, Groa, does when the singer starts playing drums with the drummer and then the bassist and singer go into the audience singing and dancing really intently with each other. I have no idea what the song is about but the feeling is incredible. It’s been a while since I’ve experienced music like this, and the metal lover in my heart is getting fed some really nice metal vibes. 

You can check Groa out here: 

https://post-dreifing.bandcamp.com/album/what-i-like-to-do-3

Mark:

Totally exhilarated, spent and all very happy, it’s time to head out and start the walk back to the hostel and the seven of us all set off together through the newly falling snow which greatly helps to cool us down after the white hot intensity of what we’ve just experienced. Myself and Liam slightly fall back from the main group and start to chat about the basics of playing. Which means – the two of us in unison – ‘You have to be on the ground.’ ‘Yes, totally,’ he says. We now enter full flow of one of my favourite topics related to this; that you can sit at home and record and Youtube and social media and stream all you want. But if you’re not getting out and playing live, or going to gigs and meeting people, you won’t make the real world connections where people can really see you, talk to you, get to know you, and decide whether or not you’re someone they really want to help either directly or by making introductions or recommendations. He continues, ‘Getting out there and really doing it is exactly what you guys are doing and it’s really cool to see.’ Absolutely fair enough. He adds: ‘We will hear you play tonight and that’s great, but I don’t think we even need to. We can just see it in you and feel your energy and attitudes and we just know you have something to say that’s going to be worth hearing. We have a really strong feeling that we’re totally going to love your music.’ Whether it all materialises or not, his and Maddie’s willingness to open doors for us in America has only come about because we’re out here and doing it from Ireland. If they were just meeting a local band, and had even just seen them play, no matter how much they liked them and their music, it’s highly unlikely they’d be talking about Stateside possibilities. But with us, they can see someone who has already made the leap, and so can be confident we would have no problem making more.

On that thing materialising or not, in the early days of Mark’s Diaries I wrote about every such conversation and possibility and time and time again nothing was ever heard from such utterances again, so I totally stopped writing about them, only returning to those subjects if and when things did start to come about. Then I could write about where those ideas came from and when the conversations first started. But right now, in the first days of our tour and, by definition, our first days in Berlin, I think it’s really cool that these kinds of conversations are even happening.

We return to the hostel well supplied with beers via an outdoor tabletop burger/kebab visit and all seven of us head up to the cavernous function room on the third floor. It’s now approaching 3am so we can in no way be loud. We set ourselves up, the guys in a small semi circle around us, looking on expectantly. Me and Maja have already decided what songs we’re going to do, and what songs could have the most impact in such a quiet setting. We’ve decided we could do a chilled out version of I Like You (Better When You’re Naked) and the new song, Insanity. The quietness and gentle natural reverb provided by this vast hall lend a new epic quality to the songs and everyone listens in complete captivated silence, not least Liam who looks totally, totally immersed in what he’s hearing. When we finish, it’s not quite to applause because, well, it’s late, but Liam and Maddie come over with huge hugs and fist bumps. Liam in particular looks stunned. ‘I had every confidence in you guys,’ he begins, ‘But this really is something special. Yes, we really hope we’ll be able to do something for you two.’ Brilliant. Just brilliant. With that, they say they have to excuse themselves as they’re up and out first thing in the morning. We have a big goodbye with them and the rest of us hang out a little longer. Here, Eric has a little suggestion and a request. Why don’t we set up and do a full rehearsal up here tomorrow that they and anyone else could come to? What a wonderful idea. We immediately agree, and come up with a rough time of 2pm. With that new plan in place, it’s time for us all to head off to bed now.

When we get back to our room, the light is out but Didier is awake in his top bunk and deep in conversation with someone in the other top bunk. As soon as we enter the room, both of them say an enthusiastic hi and we suddenly realise who the other person is. It’s Katia. Of all the rooms. We now have the two coolest room mates we could possibly wish for, although we’re a little disappointed when we discover that Katia is only here for this one night.

Maja:

Oh yay! Katia! I’m so happy she is here, I’ve really wanted to get to know her better and I really like her! Hello Katia!!!

Mark:

We ask if we can turn the light on to get ourselves sorted out, and they say, please do. They then ask how it all went and we really don’t know where to begin. ‘You guys are tired I’m sure,’ I say. ‘Let’s wait and we’ll tell you in the morning.’ ‘No, tell us now,’ Didier insists. Katia voices her agreement. They both really want to hear. What happened that we went out to an open mic at 6:30 that kept us out till way past 3am?

Well…

Day three of our European tour and we’ve been offered a bunch of potential dates in London, which could then be followed by America as we’ve spoken to some people who’ve said they could really get us started with a toe hold there. We’ve made personal contact with a promoter in Berlin and we’ve hung out with some of the bar staff of a venue that we’d already identified as a great place to get known and play at.

To that you can add that we have a very positive lead with Lenny at Fargo who we’ll be going to see in the next few days to hopefully arrange something, and we have two more open mics identified. One tomorrow and one Tuesday. Oh, and we’re going to be doing an open rehearsal for anyone who wants to come tomorrow on the third floor.

The Berlin Diary, day five

Day five 

Monday December 6

Maja:

Why did we tell our friends that we would play for them at such an inhumanly early time as 2pm? Why? This is what I’m trying to get my head round as we both attempt to wake up at noon. We finally manage to crawl out of bed and into the shower at around 1pm, and I am in no way fit for any kind of performance. I am exhausted. My voice seems to have found a comfortable spot somewhere around the bottom of my endlessly crammed suitcase, and it certainly does not want to find its way back to me. I’m slightly out of it as I stand letting the hot water scald my shoulders in the hope that the heat will somehow wake me up. Disappointingly, it doesn’t seem to work. But I have made a promise, and there’s no way I’m not keeping it. Promises are meant to be kept, and I just need some clothes, along with some concealer to hide the big dark bags under my eyes. Mark has already started moving the gear up to the function room, setting up for us. When I emerge, Cintia and Mattheus are waiting for us. Eric is nowhere to be seen, but there’s no point waiting around since we don’t know when or if he’ll be here. Cintia is working, using the function room as an office, with her computer and advanced looking house plans scattered all over a big table. She works as an architect, and I am sure she’s a brilliant one judging from the professionalism and dedication she is showing. She knew she’d be working during the time we planned this, but was very clear last night that she wanted us to come and do this and that she wanted to be a part of it.

So I guess that we’re going to be a little bit of an entertainment break and perhaps background music while she works. Great. And Matteus is a fellow musician; he is currently busking around Europe with his saxophone. Both of them are very eager to hear us play, which they’re going to. But today we will also be using it as a little rehearsal, since we’ve barely been able to rehearse anything since our arrival in Berlin. Great. They help us film, which is really cool, and we go through a lot of our songs playing them as if it was a set, although we allow ourselves to restart songs a few times so that we can hopefully record a better performance video. But there is something that is bothering me. It’s holding me back. Incredibly so. And that is the sound of the function hall. It is so empty that the amplified sound bounces all over the room, and I hear myself as echoed and probably distorted from all directions, making me completely lose control my own sound. It feels awful, and no adjustments I am able to make help with this problem. After trying to adjust everything I can there’s nothing else to do but to give up. Balls. 

This is as good as it gets. I’ll just have to do it anyway. So I sing, and we manage to fight ourselves through tiredness and echo, performing and practising most of the songs in our set. After about an hour I’m so tired I can barely stand up. So we end there, and I get to chat with Cintia, Matteus and Eric, who managed to arrive in time to catch half of the show. They seem to have appreciated it all, and the song ‘I Like You (Better When You’re Naked)’ seems to have stuck in all three of their brains. It’s quite incredible that they like the songs enough to really remember them, or at least one of the songs.

It’s really nice sitting and chatting with them for a little while, but I am way too tired to be any kind of company, so I soon excuse myself and go back to bed. I’m good for nothing today. Mark is kind enough to take care of the teardown and pack up of the gear as I intend to spend the rest of the day sleeping. I did the rehearsal/mini show today, and I’m incredibly proud of myself for having done that, but now I need to repair a little bit from these intense last couple of days. 

And how did the recordings turn out, you wonder. They were all just noise. The echo made them completely useless. Oh well, we tried. Now we’ll rest and hope to get something decent recorded soon enough. Good night. Tomorrow is a new day, and I’d like to be my usual bright self for any performance that just might happen.

Mark:

It really can’t be any surprise that events have caught up with us today. A week ago Maja was in Sweden and I was in Ireland. With that, we had our individual preparations to finish then we both left our respective starting points on Tuesday, Maja’s epic journey continuing deep into Wednesday, the same day I had my mad walk of around 20 kilometres. Then Thursday was the walk out to buy our gear and walk back, with the weekend then beginning taking in Friday’s hustle and gig followed by Saturday’s gig then the big night last night. Is it any wonder at all that we’re finding it hard to even move today?

Almost as soon as we’re ‘awake’ which is somewhere around 11, we decide there’s no way we’re doing the open mic tonight. 

Once we are up and upstairs to meet the guys, we encounter rumour again, which is soon confirmed. After our little brush with pre-pandemic world yesterday, it’s back to reality today as we discover that Berlin is to ban dancing in nightclubs from Wednesday. Despite the encouraging words we heard last night, Corona and its attendant restrictions may yet close in around us in Berlin and end our plans.

The Berlin Diary, day six

Day six

Tuesday December 7

Mark:

We’re all hanging out in the canteen this morning when Katia announces she may have a temporary room coming up in her apartment covering Christmas and the new year. If this could be more or less immediate, and dates aren’t fully clear yet, this could be something for us and we quickly let her know that we’re interested. She says she’ll keep us up to date as things develop. If the dates do work, the plan could be to take the place and keep it until the first week or so of January which would encompass our trip to England to stay with my family for Christmas. We would be looking at returning to Berlin, possibly for December 31, and so New Year’s Eve, and then make plans for whatever’s next. 

Maja:

Today it is time for my first ever open mic. Apparently open mics are a thing, and many people appreciate attending them. Myself, I’ve never really heard of them from anyone other than Mark. Mark is trying to educate me in the ways of the music world. Educating me has become one of his passion projects. I guess that is because I just know whatever I know and not much else. So the next gap of knowledge needed to be filled is open mics. They’re supposed to be great craic, but who am I to tell you? This is my very first time. And the place for tonight is Zum crocodile, a bar in Neukölln. We manage to slip through the doors just about 7 pm catching the start of the show. Mark goes through to the host and puts us on the list, but since the show has already started it seems like we’re going to be on late. Great. Just sit back until then.

Our friend Eric is here too, so the three of us enjoy the show together. There are a lot of musicians that have gathered from all over the place. A girl from Portugal is up quite early. She has a story about how she ran into a window and wrote a song about that. It’s mellow, calm and nice. Like all the songs on the stage tonight. They are mellow, low key, calm and nice. The songs are mild, the performers are using their nice singing voices. The pitches are mostly perfect, no-one makes any big mistakes. But who would make mistakes in that environment? No-one is really trying anything special. It’s just calmly played guitar with calm controlled vocals. Beautiful, but I’ve heard it a thousand times before. Perfect to enjoy with a glass of red wine and then go on to forget about forever. 

Listening to the show and its gentle tones I start to get a strong feeling that maybe we’re just a bit too much. Too loud for this room. So I lean over and whisper to Mark, ‘Maybe we should play some of our quiter songs?’ He looks at me and replies, ‘No way. We go in hard and play bigger than the room as always.’ And then I realise what I’ve just done. I’ve read the room and I started to want to adapt to it. Just like I know that I can never allow myself to do. I need to aim to play bigger than the room. Great that I had Mark to stop me there, stop me from wasting the performance. This is exactly the place where you should play as big as you want, even though no-one else is doing it.

I am starting to feel a little bit stressed, time goes on and on and we’re getting close to 10 pm, which is the ending time for almost all live music in Berlin. They have to stop at 10 pm sharp to avoid noise complaints from neighbours, and we’re getting awfully close now. Then all of a sudden, host Conor announces, ‘And now it’s time for our last act,’ I’m convinced this must be us now, but instead he calls someone else up on stage. My heart drops, and the three of us all look at each other in sheer confusion. Are we not going to be able to play? Mark discretely runs up to Conor to check if we’re still going up, and comes back with a smile. Yes, we’re on, Conor must have said ‘the last acts’ and we heard ‘the last act.’ I’m starting to feel a little bit nervous. I’ve only had half a glass of wine since I prefer not to drink before performing, so I’m clear headed, but I’m also very conscious that I can’t shake this feeling of stress. Mark goes to tune up and comes back all ready to rock. I feel like ‘How in the world will we have time to perform?’ It’s really close to 10pm now. Conor announces that everyone will only have time for one song now, and please no introducing or talking about your song. Get up, play, get off. Another act goes on and then it’s time for us. And I feel stressed. We go on stage, connect the microphone and guitar real quick, and I test the microphone by saying ‘Hello, we’re the diaries on tour from Ireland.’ As I say the words I get interrupted by Conor counting us in. ‘One, two, three, four.’ I feel so stressed. Not nervous, but stressed in a way that feels completely unnatural for me. Mark ignores Conor’s count, pausing to do his own and then we start. But still, my legs shake. I have a hard time singing, my heart is beating so fast it can’t possibly be mine. But I am singing, I know the song and I get the reaction that the song deserves. Complete amazement from everyone. I feel how people look up at me in shock, with the expression spreading over their faces saying ‘Am I hearing this right? Is this really true? She can’t possibly be singing this…’ 

Mark:

Yes, you could say the song has a slightly gimmicky feel with the tag line of I like you better when you’re naked, but the whole place is totally into this from the beginning and they never let go. And those choruses and stops. Well, there are mini explosions from the audience all the way through the song. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this, let alone been a part of it. And when we finish, the reaction is spontaneous and absolutely enormous. Seeing the video later that Eric shot, we can see that we have finally captured what The Diaries are really all about and the effect we can have on an audience. We might have only had one song, but with that four minutes of stage time, we’ve achieved everything here we could have possibly hoped to have achieved. Tonight’s show, short as it was, has been an announcement. In the end, just getting that one song was perfect. 

Maja:

In the middle of the song, Conor, sitting on the stage behind us, explodes in a cheer bouncing his head like crazy, but I don’t even notice. I am too busy performing. By the second half of the song, the stress has reduced and I am able to actually enjoy the performance like I normally do. But it feels like such a waste that I allowed myself to get stressed. A performance takes the time it takes, and there was really no use for me to feel stressed. Even though we were the second to last act with just eight minutes to go. 

Mark:

For all Maja’s talk of stress and nervousness, I was there on stage with her, and saw the video afterwards. No sign of it. No sign at all.

Maja:

When we finish the crowd erupts in huge applause and cheering, and the last act goes on. They get a huge reaction as well, but I can’t help to think that it may have been because we warmed up the crowd for them. No-one is ever going to know that for sure, but to me, it feels that way. Now everything’s finished, it’s time to mingle. At open mics, you don’t talk when others are performing. That’s considered rude and a disturbance, so I’m discovering that it’s afterwards when you really get then chance to talk to people properly. And there is this one performer that I really want to say hello to. He is called Mabloni, and he sang two really fun songs, one about how he’d never been to the USA and another one about apple pies baked with pineapple juice. I manage to say hello, and we have a lovely chat. And he recommends another open mic tomorrow at a bar commonly nicknamed the red bar. Great meeting you, and yes we’ll check that out tomorrow. 

I go back to the table to hang out a little bit more with Eric, who’s managed to get our performance recorded. When we check it out,we see that he’s come up with the first real recording that captures what we can be. Finally, we can actually share what we’re up to. 

I walk back to the hostel with a victorious feeling spreading through my chest.

The Berlin Diary, day seven

Day seven

Wednesday December 8

Maja:

Yesterday I performed for a total of four minutes, but I gave it my all which I can totally feel in my body as I wake up. Today we’ll go to the open mic that Mabloni recommended yesterday, so there’s no real worry to be had for the rest of today. I can allow myself to just chill and recover a little bit then go for it again tonight. I haven’t yet really got a feel for just how physically demanding performing can be, but as of now I have performed something every single day, and while it is incredibly fun it also takes its toll on the body. As the evening draws closer, I manage to feel a little bit more like myself again. 

The place we’re going to tonight is called Laksmi. Nicknamed the red bar, it is located in the middle of Kreutzberg, and after a short antigen test detour we make our way there, arriving at a quarter to seven. As we walk through the doors I am surprised by the size of the place. It’s small. By far the smallest place we’ve been in up to now. It has two rooms, the bar and stage area in the first room with seats in a L shape around the bar and the stage is right at the apex of the L. The second room is a smaller backroom with more seats. I would perhaps say that there are 25-30 seats available in total, and there’s a steady stream of people that just keeps on coming in. Just after we enter, the host of the evening greets us. His name is Mooves and we sign up on his list. He tells us that he doesn’t expect that many performers tonight, so there’s going to be a lot of time for us to perform. We may even get two slots. Great. We’re prepared and have a lot of songs ready, so it would only be really cool if that happened. He says he’ll give everyone two songs rather than the normally expected three, but with that, he expects there to be another round where everyone goes up again for another two songs each.

We sit down with a glass of water to enjoy the show, and what strikes me about this place is the thoroughly friendly feeling that spreads between both the regulars and new people. Most of the people here tonight seem to be regulars, they know each other and they all talk to each other. Except for when the show is on. Then the whole bar turns silent. You could hear a coin falling to the floor even though the bar is crammed by now. Every seat is taken, and the room is filled with the gentle tunes of first the host and then a wonderful performer on ukulele. As the show starts I realise that this is a completely unplugged event. Which actually feels quite cool. It’s nice to not have to bother with any mixing boards and cables, especially considering the minimal stage area which is just about big enough for one man and his guitar. Or maybe you could squeeze in two people. Possibly.

Six or seven performances later, it is time for us and once more we open with I Like You (Better When You’re Naked). And I am able to perform it in a way I have never done before. I feel light, energetic and it is just fun. I’m standing in front of the stage, pretty much on the edge, slightly in front of Mark, and I am almost floating with energy. I perform to the people in the room, but I’m also bouncing off of Mark. The whole room is with us. In every breath. 

Mark:

Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, we both step off the stage and start walking through the audience still playing. We have the bar to our left and a slightly raised seating area to our right so we have a good, natural path to follow, all eyes on us all the way. Already we can see the looks of appreciation on people’s faces like we’re giving something different and are really putting it out there. I’m in front and Maja’s walking behind singing. Then, as we reach the back room and give a quick blast in there, we turn round. Or rather, I turn round. Maja decides to walk backwards, crouched down and singing towards me. Now we’re both crouching down, passing through the crowd and both singing. To each other, eyes locked. The whole audience has disappeared to us but we can feel their presence and silence. And complete captivation. It’s like we’re having a private moment and they all just happen to be inhabiting the same space. But at the same time, we really are all in this together. This is our moment, but everyone else feels it.

In this backwards way we move up to return to the stage. Maja first, still singing, me still playing. My front foot reaches the stage and I start to step up with my back foot. I’ve totally forgotten my phone is hanging out of my back pocket. Now I feel it catch under the edge of a table which is now directly behind me. I’m already far too committed to my forward movement and I can do nothing as I feel the phone start to tip the table. Not a massive amount but enough to send a full pint sliding off to smash spectacularly loudly on the floor, in the process totally soaking the poor unfortunate man who happens to be sitting right in front of it. 

Maja:

There is now glass absolutely everywhere, including on the stage. Me and Mark both stop, because we have to do something to help, right? But as soon as we do, an urgent noise comes from the crowd as they shout, seemingly as one, ‘No, no. Keep going, keep going.’ The guy that got drenched is also looking up and nodding happily, urging us to continue. I look at Mark, and he shrugs and nods. And we jump back into the verse, exactly where we left off. We finish the song and the bar absolutely explodes in cheers and whoops.

Just wow. We just stand there on stage for a moment, and I catch a glance of Mark’s eyes as we take in the feeling and taste of the excitement in the room. During this little moment I can feel how everyone around us is filled with a shocklike anticipation. We hold onto the beautiful anticipatory silence, Mark taps out a four on the guitar, and we’re back in.

Mark:

It’s an amazing moment, but in the excitement of it all, I completely forget which verse we’re on. Do I hit the chorus after these four lines, or do we have another four to go in this one? I have no idea. I’m looking at Maja’s back so there’s no communication to be had. I just go for it. Into the chorus. And she drops right into it too. Damn that was the songwriting equivalent of red wire, blue wire. With slightly lower stakes. 

The reaction after our first song, our actual introduction to this place, is enormous. Far bigger than anything we’ve ever experienced before and we’ve had some pretty good experiences with it. Damn, this is big.

Maja:

And now off we go into the next song. Rock ‘n’ roll Tree. This is an epic singalonger and we can see almost everyone in the room moving with us. As we reach the climactic conclusion, I find myself smiling wide and I lower my body preparing for the explosion of sound that I know will happen soon after. We smash into the peak of the last notes of the song and the room blows up once more. 

Mooves, the host, gets back up on stage and jokes ‘Thank you to The Diaries. If you sit in front, you have to expect to get wet.’ 

As we make our way back to our seats, it seems everyone from here to there has something to say to us. I just manage to catch a couple of encouraging words before Mark comes with the first beer of the night, and the room returns to silence in respect of the next performer. The taste of that beer is the best feeling in the world. It tastes of success.

Mark:

This feeling of success is only heightened when Mooves starts to ponder what he will play next. He looks up at the audience and says, ‘I’m just thinking. I haven’t got anything as good as I Like You Better When You’re Naked.’ He’s surely half joking at the sheer audacity of the song’s title, but it sure feels like a stamp of approval.

Then, as Mooves is into his song and the room accompanies him in respectful silence, a guy at the bar turns to me and says, ‘That glass smash was just epic. True rock’n’roll. That’s how you make an introduction.’ Well yeah. I guess we have. The initial feeling was one of embarrassed horror, but looking back now, it really was quite the moment and it’s probably become the huge punctuation exclamation mark over a performance I think people in here are going to remember. We certainly are. 

Maja:

Now we’re managing to talk a little with a few other people between the performers but the focus of the people around us is not on what’s happening now. Instead, we’re getting a lot of expressions of excitement for what we’re going to do with our next set. This comes up a lot sooner than we were expecting; a few people played everything they wanted to play first time round and so decline a second turn. So it’s not that long before it comes round to us again. As I walk up to the stage, a girl sitting at the bar says that she looks forward to our performance. I get up on the stage with even a bigger smile than before. But this time it’s just me. I’m alone on the stage and Mark is at the back, in the other room. 

Mark:

We kinda planned this. Or, at least I did. Maja has no idea what I’m going to do. Well, neither have I really. We said we would start with Bang Bang this time and I thought it would be fun, with the whole unplugged thing, for us to start on opposite sides of the room. And we’ve been able to really get ahead of things and start immediately following the performer before us; this concept of everyone playing again massively helped because as soon as we saw the guy we went on after last time, we knew we were up next. So it is, before the applause for the last guy has even died down, Maja has ended up on stage on her own and I’m now at the back with an expectant table full of Irish people looking up at me, as well as the rest of this back room. I have an idea. I thought we were just both going to start singing but now I’m going to try something I’ve never done before. I’m going to get a clap going before a song begins. ‘OK everybody, on me,’ I say with huge confidence, knowing that anything less will get no reaction at all. And, hands above head, I start clapping. 

Maja:

I hear a clapping begin down in the other room and it starts to seep into the front bar. I join in while also showing my part of the audience that they should clap too. At this, Mooves thinks he’s missed something and runs up to the stage to introduce us. As he does, I turn to him and say ‘Hang on, we’ve already started.’ I can see the surprise spreading across his face as he says ‘Oh, wow. Great. These guys, wow, they’ve already started.’ This comes out in a very impressed and happy way as he hurries back to his seat. During this time, the whole room is still clapping along in unison and we haven’t even done anything yet. I stop clapping, but Mark continues. And we start to sing. We can barely hear each other, but we’re letting the people around us hear us. So we walk around, meeting each other in the middle where we bounce off each other for a little while and then switch sides, me going into the back room and Mark going next to the stage, the space I’ve just left. In this manner, we sing and the whole room is clapping. Oh, except me. I don’t clap. I just sing. 

Mark:

As if it was all choreographed and perfectly planned, we hit the stage at the same time with a few bars of the song to go. I now put the guitar on and I’m ready as soon as we finish to a wonderfully joyous reaction from our now wholly interactive room.

Maja:

We now use the time in between songs to talk a little bit more about ourselves. I present our tour and say they can read about our adventures online in The Diaries. In the meantime, Mark’s ready with the guitar and we’re off into our last song Insanity. It’s a calm song, but it is very pretty and impactful.

Mark:

Again we utilise the whole room, which we feel like we own by now. We start with me on the stage and Maja standing on a stool down on the floor and dominating the room. But then again we start to move around the whole area. This is a quiet song, we’re unplugged and we want everyone to be able to hear it. So around the bar we go, giving everyone a piece. This might mean that not everyone hears everything but they all come along with us on this journey, sharing in the epic feel of the moment as we wander right from the front to the back and back to the front again. There’s even a verse where I’m at the back singing it to those guys, and Maja is at the front singing to her people. Then we meet in the middle again, then once more it’s back to the stage. And every single person in here is with us the whole time while they’re also wondering just what the hell is going on. As we finish and the applause rises up from the crowd, getting louder and louder, we stand there and take it all in. For Maja, this kind of reaction is just normal by now. For myself, across every open mic I’ve run, played at or just attended, I’ve never ever seen a new act come in and dominate and own an evening like we have tonight. In fact, I’ve seen very few established people even do anything like this. For us, this has not been an open mic. It’s been a show. Our show. 

Maja:

Insanity seems to have hit this audience like we’re playing them our favourite song that we’ve worked on for 10 years. As we finish up and Mooves come back up on stage, I’ve actually forgotten all about the time we played it at Zimt Und Zunder, and I tell him that this was our first time performing this song. It certainly felt like it was the first time I’ve ever sung that song. And he absolutely loses his mind over that fact which actually isn’t that far off being a real fact. 

As we leave the stage this last time, there’s one closing performance featuring some regulars and Mooves putting on some covers. The whole bar sings along and this totally affects the room as soon as the song ends. It all turns into one of the best parties I’ve ever been to and I feel like a rockstar and center of attention the whole rest of the evening. 

Me and Mark just walk around the place talking to everyone, and everyone wants to talk to us. It’s incredible. We meet a couple of Irishmen, and one of them tells me that he’s honoured to have shared the stage with me tonight. Wait what? Did I catch that right? Come on Mark, did I really catch that right?

Mark:

Yep. That’s right. That happened.

Maja:

Ok. So someone honestly just said that. I can’t really believe it. That seems like such an absurd over the top thing to be told. But I’m grateful, and I chat around with other people some more. Then I move over to the next table. There, I get chatting to a girl who suddenly breaks off to sing ‘I Like You (Better When You’re Naked).’ Stunned, I join in singing the song with her and then she tells me how much she loves it. Now, still singing, she starts to dance. Wow…is this really happening? Next I go to the bar to get myself a drink, and the girl that said that she looked forward to our second performance earlier on has some other amazing things to say. We talk for a while, having a wonderful time. I get to chat with her boyfriend as well who also played tonight. He’s from London and is an excellent musician. He seems really impressed as well. Then I talk a bit with Mooves who also has a lot of warm words to say. And he says he wants to introduce me to his producer friend at the other side of the bar, as well as the usual regular presenter of the open mic here; I learn now that Mooves fills in for occasions when it clashes with something the regular guy has on. Like a gig. Great. I’m happy to chat a bit more with these guys while Mark mingles around the rest of the place. A bit later the people in the bar have started to turn over and there are now a lot of new people here. They missed the show which means that the mingling part becomes a little bit harder. But that’s OK. It’s around time to leave now anyway. So we tell Mooves it’s been wonderful and start to say our goodbyes. This has all been so much. We’ve both been caught in a whirlwind in here tonight and we’ve barely seen each other since the end of our last performance. Just like it should be. Two people mingling is double the amount of contacts made. 

What an evening. This was by far our best performance, best reaction, and the best evening we’ve had since we’ve been in Berlin. All at Laksmi, the red bar. I really want to come again.

Mark:

Yep, that would be brilliant but unfortunately this is the last such event here until after Christmas. But maybe the bar itself will be open next week. It could still be pretty cool to come along to for the hang.

The Berlin Diary, day eight

Day eight

Thursday December 9

Mark:

We wake still in something of a state of disbelief at what just happened last night, which can also be added to the reaction from Tuesday. One question someone asked me last night keeps swirling in my mind. ‘What the hell just happened in here?’ It was ‘only’ an open mic, but it’s the single best show I’ve ever played. The best set of songs I’ve ever played and the greatest reaction to an open mic act I’ve ever seen, let alone been part of. Now I’ve got a little distance from it, albeit only a single night’s sleep, I can honestly say I’ve simply never seen an act, new or established, come into an open mic and affect a room like that. Certainly no first timer I’ve seen has even come close and I’ve seen a lot of great debutants who’ve really made an impact. Last night was an event that I know we’re going to remember but I think people who were there are going to remember it as well.

Maja:

Laksmi sure is the best show I’ve ever played. The feel of the place, the reactions we got, and the pulse of the music we played was just incredible. Simply put, it was amazing.

Mark:

This all adds up to a big feeling of validation that we have something here which really could be something. If you have any thoughts of doing anything as an original act, in pretty much any creative discipline, you have to be able to go into a room of strangers and, with no hype or expectation, transport them and really provoke a reaction. It’s a huge ask and a big thing to expect of yourselves. But we definitely did that last night, and warmed up for it very well by what we did the night before at Maja’s first ever open mic. We already had some kind of faith and belief in ourselves otherwise we wouldn’t have come out here to do all this in the first place. But it goes to another level when your own perception of reality could be comes into contact with actual reality and they at least in some way correlate.

After having turned up with nothing in the book until the 19th, so far in Berlin, we’ve now done a performance of some kind everyday. But now with nothing else on the horizon it’s time to get out and hustle the street again. If we don’t do it today, we’re going to be backing right up into the weekend. Also, today gives us something of a buffer possibility if we get asked to return or call tomorrow to speak to a manager. We now know that once Saturday comes, all bets are off. Then you could also be looking at Monday or Tuesday before managers start surfacing again. Or so my truly extensive experience of bar hustling tells me. Tonight is optimal and we have nothing on. Out into the early Berlin evening we go. It’s snowing and the temperature is only just hovering above freezing. But that aint going to put us off one little bit. We’re hustling.

Once more we head out over the bridge that crosses the huge expanse of railway tracks, and so affording our epic view over to the east of the city, right to the iconic TV tower. Over that and around 10 minutes later me and Maja are deep in conversation and not really paying much attention to our surroundings. The person coming the other way isn’t much more alert. So it’s quite the public scene when all three of us intersect each others’ paths and we realise we’re face to face with Katia. Bang. So great to meet her like this and she reacts exactly the same way. The bizarrer thing is that for the past ten minutes we’ve been in message communication with her as she’s been asking about our interest in the apartment and we’ve had a few questions of our own. Now, after the initial excitement of this out of nowhere meeting we can see if we can just get things sorted out. Maja’s been the contact point on this so she asks what the state of play is. So far we’re booked into the hostel until the 13th so some kind of immediate turn over would be good, and if that happens, we could well be settled there until the new year when we can make more plans. But it isn’t. Good. Katia proudly says that the room is available for us from the 20th. Oh balls. That really doesn’t work. If not for this place, we were thinking of doing our show on the 19th and possibly being out of here by the 21st. Or something. We still really don’t know. But her dates, or her landlord’s dates, or whatever, just seem a bit too messy for us. We tell her we’re not completely out, but that this looks like it really won’t work for us. No problem, she says. We’ll stay in touch. Well, we will anyway and it really has been great to see her. And to have this issue come to some kind of conclusion, even if not the conclusion any of us were really looking for. We chat for a little longer, then go our separate ways, our heads fully back in the game. That game includes making our way to Loophole, on the way hustling any venue that looks in any way promising, the idea being to concentrate on the Neukolln area. But first, and this is where we’re on our way to now, we’re walking in totally the opposite direction to head into Friedrichshain and Fargo to hopefully meet Lenny and organise a show there for the coming days.

He is indeed there when we arrive, and very happy to see us. ‘No problem,’ he says as soon as we’ve done our hellos and I ask. ‘How would tomorrow be for you? Say, 9 O’Clock?’ Great. And that’s that. Gig booked. Knock on enough doors, battle through enough nos and you find these people. Friedrichshain done, we now head south to Neukolln to see what we can tap out of what we believe could be a solid hunting ground for us. It’s quite a trek and as we enter the main area of Neukolln, we see that it’s wide busy commercial streets and not many bars. Our theory? Go deep. Hit the side streets. Get right off the main beaten track. Our Berlin is not out here where the mainstream and the tourists go. It’s in there. Down secret streets and hidden alleys. Into tiny bars found only by the most intrepid. And locals. The first corner we come to we find a dark, lonely bar. Could this be a thing? I’m not sure but then Maja sees the writing on its A board. ‘Spoken word night.’ A bar that has something like that has to have something for us. Spoken word is the definition of off the main track. We go in and are immediately greeted by a friendly guy who says he is indeed the manager. He’s whispering to us, as someone is in full spoken flow in a stage through another room that can’t quite be seen from here. He asks about the vaccination thing and we then tell him why we’re here. ‘Oh, I love the sound of that,’ he says. He gives us his card that identifies him as Nanoso and continues: ‘That’s definitely something I’d be interested in and could work with.’ Brilliant. Strike one and strike one. I just knew Neukolln would be our hood. We’ve been walking a while to get here and he also says he’ll be able to talk a little more at the break so we stop and have a drink, and he also goes behind the bar and pours us a shot of something spicy and tomatoey. When the break comes, he asks us to define our sound a little and we hit him with rockpop, and tell him a little about what we’ve been doing. He gets more and more interested and says that he does music in here on Saturdays and that it sounds like we could be something that fits right in with that. He’ll be looking at that over the next few days, although we’re also sure he’s quite booked up. But he invites us to send an email and we’ll take it from there. Brilliant. He goes off to take care of business and we write and send the email there and then. Then, just as we’re about to leave, he comes back to us and suggests a direction we might want to walk in to find more bars that would welcome us, including one in particular that he recommends. Brilliant.

We head down there, now also realising that we’re not too far away from Loophole. It could be a good idea to casually make our way down in that general direction, hustling promising looking bars on the way. Then, once at Loophole, we could see if our American promoter friend Mikey is around and see if there’s any joy from the email we sent after meeting him at the show on Sunday. We come to the bar that Nanoso told us about and see a jazz jam in full flow. Looks promising until we see a sign in the window, which is basically a list of all the rules of the bar’s open mic night. No this, no that, no something else. Oh dear. Looks like you could fall foul in here without even intending to. What a fragile line one must walk just to be allowed to exist in this place. We immediately decide we want no part of it and continue walking. For another ten metres or so when we find another bar we could check out. We walk in and straight into the jaws of an unplugged open mic night; a guy is literally performing to our right as we walk in and is surrounded be the audience, which we now walk right through and across to get to the bar. We’ve literally just walked all over his stage. We’re met there by a guy called Peter who is happy to hear from us and who directs us to follow him so we can talk. Out the back of the bar and we enter a small theatre-like space where Peter sets himself up on one of the rows of seats. We have a chat here and he says we sound like something that could fit in here, but that we need to talk to someone else. Peter gives us an address to contact the guy and recommends that we get in touch and say we dropped by. Great. Thankyou very much, and will do. Onto the next place. We find this not too far down the same street and walk into a busy bar where the owner, nevertheless, is happy to entertain us. We are then told that the bar has stopped live music for now, but that if we were to return in January or February, there could well be a conversation to be had. Brilliant. Put this bar on the list too. We’ll be back.

Continuing on and we find another bar to go and talk to. The guy behind the bar isn’t the manager, but I get a good vibe from him and sound him out. He says this could be good, and if we want, we could come back in half an hour or so and speak to the main guy. He also tells us of a few other places would could try. As we’re there chatting, we’re told the main guy has indeed just entered the small and interesting building. We’re introduced and he listens politely and with interest at our pitch. When we finish, he says, ‘It sounds great but look around. There is hardly any business here. You’d be playing to nobody.’ Yeah, that would be a shame. But again, he invites us to come back in a month or two and try again. In the meantime, he says, we should go have a look at a bar a few doors down. This sends us back the way we came and to a place we’d disregarded and walked right past. In the window we see one of the people we were told to ask for. We know this because we recognise him. It’s Wynton from Zum Krokodil who we saw perform a few days ago. We walk in, he looks up and very much recognises us and invites us to sit down. When we give him a card, he says, ‘Oh, you’re those guys.’ He didn’t see us the other night but says he heard all about us from one of the managers the next night. ‘I heard really good things,’ he says. ‘So what can I do for you now you’re here?’ We tell him why we’re in Berlin and what we’ve done so far and he’s in some state of disbelief. ‘I really didn’t think there were any guys like you still around trying to do things like this,’ he says. ‘The fact that you’re here and have been having some results is really inspiring and gives me hope.’ Wow. This from one of the movers and well known names on the local scene. He gives us the number of the girl who organises music here and says we should make the call, although he does urge caution that we might not be able to expect anything to happen until some time in the new year. We might be detecting something of a pattern here. But hey, we now have a name and some kind of recommendation from what that person would recognise as a trusted source. He then also tells us of an evening he runs at Zum Krokodil on Sundays called The Sunday Slip which is a general open floor for all kinds of performers, but definitely also for the likes of us. ‘Come on down,’ he says. ‘We’ll get you on.’ Brilliant. An invitation from the man himself. We will indeed be there. And apart from all that, he recommends another venue to us that we should check out.

We thank Wynton very much for his time, attention and invitation. And yet another heads up. It really has been cool to sit down and really get to know one of the local musicians a little. One more friendly face to add to our Berlin adventure.

From here, we walk pretty much uninterrupted to our destination to discover Mikey is not around tonight and that it’s DJ night. We could pay the five Euro cover to stay, but we’re not really feeling it tonight. So we decide to make a beeline for Zum Krokodil to see if we can meet the manager Wynton told us about and say hello. When we get there, the place is very quiet and our guy is not in tonight. But we still do meet one of the other managers who’s happy to see us and have a little bit of a hangout, and we also talk quite a lot to the girl behind the bar. More footprints left in the minds of Berlin’s nightlife. It’s also time for another respite from the cold and this place does great Gluvine, although not tonight unfortunately. We still stay for a while and soon decide we’re done for the night. It’s been a great hustle. Possibly the most successful such venture I’ve even been on. No. No possibly about it. This is the most successful, most welcoming, most fruitful hustle I’ve ever been on. So many positive reactions. And we’ve discovered so much, created a few possible gig leads, discovered a new open mic, and so many places have encouraged us to come and try again next time we’re in Berlin. And we booked a gig for tomorrow. That gig may well be in Friedrichshain, but yes, like we thought, Neukolln is very much looking like our Berlin sweet spot. None of this is to mention that we’ve also now got a much better idea of where our kinds of venues are, what they look like, how they work, and what the people are like to deal with. 

Time to go home now, but before we do, we have one more venue to hit which we also have some hopes for – Madame Claudes. And I remind you that we met some of the bar staff on Sunday night, so we feel like we already have half a foot in the place, socially at least. But as we get closer and closer, it becomes clear that we’re now running on empty and are in no shape to make a good, lively presentation of ourselves. No. We’re done for the night. It’s very firmly time for home and bed. But what a night. In its own and different way, every bit as epic as last night. Eight hours and 15 kilometres of hustle in the snow in minus temperatures. If this isn’t dedication I have no idea what is. It’s given us a whole bunch of positive meetings resulting in more than just possibilities in the bars we visited; as a result we also have a whole load of heads ups to check out and chase down. Myself and Maja have pretty much always known that we share a very similar work ethic, but this is just beyond. I can’t think of anyone else I’ve ever been in a project with – musical or otherwise – who would have come out and done anything remotely like this tonight, and that’s without even factoring in the weather. This truly is what going out and creating your own opportunities looks like. 

Maja:

Cold, exhausting and exciting.

The Berlin Diary, day nine

Day nine

Friday December 10

Mark:

For the first time since this all began, our plans smash right up against Corona with a call from my dad. He’s calling to see if we caught the news yesterday. We didn’t. There’s been a change to testing rules for entering the UK. We already knew testing would be required ahead of traveling and while in the UK, and to that end, our home testing kits were delivered and are already with my parents for when we arrive with testing due on the second and eighth day of the trip, although we’ll be out of there by the seventh day. But the announcement yesterday has changed all that. The new regulations state that you must not leave your designated residence until a negative test has been received from the test on day two. The way Christmas and the subsequent public holidays are falling, that means we wouldn’t receive a result until the 31st at the very earliest, the day we’re due to leave. Which means we won’t be able to leave my parents’ house for the entire stay. Which means it’s totally pointless going. With that, our Christmas plans are cancelled, along with the flights that had already been paid for. What now? We have no idea, but England is out. 

The day gets even better when rumours start to circulate, then get confirmed, that the hostel we’re staying in will be closing on the 16th, meaning checkout will have to be that day. At first we think this is Christmas closing, as we’ve been starting to learn in the past few days that Berlin nightlife pretty much closes around mid to late December for Christmas. But no. Plus Hotel Berlin will be closing its doors for good that day. Damn. Things just got even more uncertain. What we do know is that we want to stick around at least to play the Artliners’ gig on the 19th and then chill the next day. Which means a possible date of the 21st for leaving Berlin. For where, we have no idea.

We’ve been in Berlin for almost two weeks and haven’t done the tiniest bit of sightseeing. So far, all we’ve really seen is the main Berlin wall section and that’s across the road from our hostel. But that’s not bothering us at all. We’ve not come here to see Berlin. As much as we can in our time here, we’ve come here to be Berlin. To get underneath it. To live it. To reach the parts other tourists don’t reach. So far we feel we’ve given a decent account of that intention. To that end, we feel no pressure to get out and about and see the place. Not yet anyway. With our gig at Fargo tonight and considering how much we felt run into the ground last night, we promise ourselves we’ll take it easy today and give ourselves the best chance of a good performance.

Maja:

Take it easy, right. We got home way past midnight yesterday once again, and I think we might have overdone it with the walking. It’s like no matter how much I sleep, I can’t get to a state that feels fresh. I pretty much refuse to leave bed until maybe 5 or 6 pm when it is time to prepare for the gig. Today there’s been no energy for a rehearsal, no energy for any outings and no energy for any writing or anything else that needs to get done on a day to day basis. Today has all been about that gig, and it is what we need to do. I really have a good feeling about the manager Lenny, and really want to show him what we’re all about. 

We get to the venue well before the showtime to set up on the stage area which is right next to the window, so the people walking by can see that there’s going to be a show on tonight. Hopefully, that will make at least a couple of people come in to see what’s going on. Once we’re set up, Lenny is kind enough to lend us a monitor we didn’t know he had. Which is great. I’ve never used a monitor before. It should mean that soundwise, everything should be better than it’s ever been for me on stage, right?

Well, not quite. 

I feel drained, and I am having a hard time getting into the feeling for tonight’s show. It’s a show I really want to go well, but it’s like the tiredness is impacting even the soundcheck and I have a hard time putting out the usual charming me. We somewhat finish the soundcheck and it all sounds quite OK when we are done with it. Mark disappears to socialise with the people around and I go to recheck the setlist and psych myself up for the show. Time flies and our little group of friends arrive just before the show starts. Perfect. Psyched up, I go and say hello, then it’s showtime. 

We start off like we always do but in the middle of the first song something happens with the monitor. It could be that natural stage movement of ourselves, and simple vibrations have shifted it slightly. Whatever’s happened, all I can hear now is bass frequencies and it is making it really hard to hear myself. Impossible really. Every sound I make sounds distorted and wrong, and I don’t know how to fix it. Without any better ideas, I decide to power through. But I am so annoyed at the sound, it is hard to hear myself and it is already making a hard situation even harder. After a while I decide to turn it off. But this seems to completely put Mark off, or at least he doesn’t seem happy with suddenly having no monitor, so I turn it back on again. And the sound comes back as awful as it was before. But finally I do notice something I can make work with. As the bass frequencies come at me I’m able to link them to strong vibrations I’m feeling through my feet. I have no doubt the monitor is great and would normally be totally helpful. But it could be that its exact position on the stage, and maybe also my position on the stage right in front of it, is causing these vibrations. Which are drenching out the frequencies of the sound I need to hear to be able to sing in any controlled manner. If we’d soundchecked with the monitor earlier than we did and found this issue then, maybe simply moving it to a different position could have eliminated all this and everything would have been fine. But we got it just before we started, were delighted to have it, and didn’t foresee any problems. And now we’re mid gig, there really isn’t a lot, if anything, we can do about it. However, having identified something of a source to the problem, I now have something I can actually do about it. I immediately turn the volume down until I feel that the vibrations stop. Finally. What a relief. It’s not as loud as before, but it is now at a level so we both can hear it and it doesn’t drench my voice out with harsh frequencies. But it’s taken almost until the end of the show for me to realise all this and I’ve been battling with it all night barely being able to think about my performance at all. I try to relax and get into a good feel for the rest of the show. 

It still seems like our friends had a nice time, but it’s obvious that I need to get better at handling our equipment. I need to be able to always hear myself clearly, otherwise I just can’t put on a good show. How can I know I’m hitting all the pitches I need to if I can’t even hear myself?

I’m taking tonight as a wake up call. We need to have better equipment and I need to know how to use it better, so I know what to do when it sounds strange. 

Even though I’m not really happy with my personal performance, and this is the account of how I experienced it, we get a good reaction around the bar. It seems like people are appreciating the songs and recognising them for what they are, great songs. And I am very happy we got to play here and I definitely think that this show gave both us as a band and me as an artist irreplaceable live experience. I got to learn things today that no amount of rehearsal could ever give me. Now I know what to fix. 

The rest of the evening turns into a wonderful drinking party with our mates that were really happy that they were able to catch the show. Even though I’m having a little bit of a heavy feeling in my stomach, I am having a lovely evening. Thank you Lenny, and thank you Fargo. See you soon again.

Mark:

We do very much think we’ll be in here again soon and I go and talk to Lenny to see about a follow up show maybe next week. He has some very encouraging words and loves our energy, songs and overall presence and feel. But he’s not been totally convinced by the vocals tonight and says we need to work on that a little first. We know the monitor was against us tonight but we don’t want to make excuses or seem ungrateful so we let it go. But there is a very real point here. We’ve realised we do need a monitor and we need to have one of our own that we can get used to. And once we have that, we’ll also be able to incorporate that into our soundcheck and eliminate any issues a particular setting might throw up. Lenny is very open to us returning but if he’s heard issues we could fix before that can happen, then fair enough. I think we’re going to put this down as an experience we’ve learned a lot from and something we’re now going to act on.

The Berlin Diary, day 10

Day 10

Saturday December 11

Mark:

We’ve decided to stay until the hostel closes. Right up to the end. We’ve also decided, after last night’s experience, that we need to up our equipment game a little so are returning to Just Music to buy a stage monitor. We’re going to do this by taking our whole setup there to hopefully be able to see what we should buy to supplement it, and also to have a look at how the whole thing could work.

Eric comes and hangs out in our room for a while and I do something I’ve never done before – start writing a song with someone not involved in the process just happening to be there. But this feels different. I’m not picking the guitar up in hopes of fishing around and coming up with something. No. A fully formed idea pops into my head and I just know something is going to come out when I pick up the guitar. The fact that someone else is around doesn’t even begin to factor. There’s no feeling of pressure of creation. I just have this as I feel whole sections coming into focus in my mind. Before anyone knows what’s happening I’ve written a chorus and two verses, although I don’t feel like I’ve fully written them, they were just there and I managed to get them down before they disappeared. There is still some lifting and thought process going on here and Maja jumps in to help with that. Within about 10 minutes, we’re looking at something we feel could be fully put together before too long. Run has been born.

Maja:

The whole process of writing Run was one of the quickest songwriting processes I’ve ever witnessed or even heard of. It was incredible to be a part of it. Eric had just about entered the room when it started. It was clear what was about to happen. Mark got into the zone and I know when he starts getting there, the first thing he needs is silence, space, a notebook, a pen and a guitar. And a recording device because the idea might get lost as soon as it gets created. So I make sure he finds all of that as soon as possible, which is hard living in a small hostel room, and give him space and silence to get out whatever’s in his head right now. Only then am I able to help, and I do. With things like helping put the idea into shape, lyric writing, melodies or whatever heavy lifting remains. For us both, it is very important to respect the ideas and songs when they come and to give ourselves the space and respect that is needed to ultimately turn an idea into an actual song. 

We’re soon looking at a page that contains the first draft of a song. Every line has a melody and phrasing to it and the hook is catchy. A rough first take is recorded on the phone as well. It feels incredible. Sometimes, it really can be like this. 

Mark:

After a while Eric leaves for whatever his plans are and we decide to stay right where we are. Last night completely demonstrated that real tiredness has taken something of a grip and we really need to slow down. So tonight we’re going nowhere. Not even to the one gig we know is happening featuring our new friends Bodhran Slippy who we met at Zum Krokodil on Tuesday. For those of you who don’t know, this is a play on the phrase born slippy based on the bodhran, a type of Irish handheld drum which strongly features in their sound. Well, good luck to those guys on their show tonight. We’ll just have to try to catch you next time.

The Berlin Diary, day 11

Day 11

Sunday December 12

Mark:

With Sunday Slip on tonight we just have to try to finish this new song. It would be so cool to have something brand new to play. And finish it we do. This means that when we take to the stage tonight we will be playing a song that only fully came together in the very last minutes before leaving for the show. It really doesn’t get newer than that.

As you may remember, this is taking place at Zum Krokodil. With our debut here last week, and given that we popped in on Thursday night, this is now our third time here. Inadvertently, we seem to have found a regular Berlin venue. And it’s bang in Neukolln.

We get there and meet Wynton and his friend and host for the evening, Liliana. Once we’re signed up, we’re told there’s another half hour or so until things begin, so we take advantage of this for a last minute run through; new songs have a habit of slipping out of your mind when you try to perform them too early in the gestation period. We’re heading off that possibility by going out into the street now for an a capella run through of it by the light of a closed shop across the road. We get through that OK and declare ourselves as ready as can be.

Liliana and Wynton have been doing this for years and it all has a slightly different feel to an open mic; it’s more of an event and we can see how epic it could be, even though the place is very sparsely populated tonight. They have a theme song which clearly kicks the evening off, then Liliana comes out and launches into a stand-up comedy show, involving as many audience members as she can. So that’s what this is about. Not just musicians, but comedians and, as she says now, performers of any kind. She also tells the audience that people use this space to experiment and try out all kinds of new and edgy material that may or may not work. To that end, she requests that this stage is respected as their safe space. Quite brilliant. She then announces that we will be playing first, so up we go for our two songs.

We’ve decided on I Like You Better (When You’re Naked) and of course Run, which we proudly announce as being as new as new could possibly be. As I said, the place is quiet tonight and there’s a slightly flat, end of season feeling to it all. We do OK and feel well listened to and politely received, but the audience clearly isn’t ready to come up to our levels of energy just yet. It’s fair to say that through the evening it never really does as we roll through the rest of the performers and Liliana does her best to keep things upbeat. But when the last person has done their thing, even though there are essentially 45 minutes of stage time left, rather than go for another round, Liliana and Wynton decide to call time on the last Sunday Slip of the year. The atmosphere all round is still a bit flat and people aren’t really hanging around. We call it a night soon after as well, but head home very happy that we finished a whole new song today, and then came out and performed it.

The Berlin Diary, day 12

Day 12

Monday December 13

Mark:

I wake with thoughts of some kind of song running round my head, but really vaguely formed. There are no melodies or lyrics really, just a kind of style of something I really feel like getting on with. Once we’re both up and somewhat into the morning, I ask Maja to find me a set of lyrics from the notebooks we have; there are ten such books going right back to our earliest days in London, two of them A4 and quite a few of them full, including one of the A4s. Maja has a flick through and one set catches both of us as soon as the page flies open. Beanie Love. An idea from our first few weeks together which soon became a full on set of lyrics. We’ve always had a soft spot for this and constantly reference it in conversation. It seems it’s time has now come. I still don’t have any solid song ideas beyond a vague style, and I now ask Maja to give me a chord progression. She does so and I play around with that while reading the lyrics. Looking at this together, very quickly a chorus and approximation of three verses all pop out. Beanie Love is finally on its way.

Maja:

I am ridiculously excited about the song Beanie Love. We have used that title as a working title for the concept and lyrics that we started all that time ago. Lying in bed in the house in London. Staring up at the ceiling. Laughing. Writing. Dreaming. Crying and talking. I remember looking at the spikily painted ceiling, wondering why it was so textured. But it was a nice thing to focus my eyes on, and it has a funny name. Popcorn ceiling. 

And that was how Beanie Love started, with us both joking around and writing the fun things down. Now it has started to turn into a very happy and fun song, which is still as close to heart of the concept as it was when we wrote the very first words. 

Mark:

Once we’re ready to be out and about, thoughts turn to the new equipment shopping we’ve planned to do. All our gear is still packed up from Friday and we walk it down to Just Music where a seriously knowledgeable guy in the sound department gives us his full time and attention to see how we can be helped. We unpack all our gear, set it up, and get to work looking at how it can be improved. And it proves to be a little more than we were thinking, never more so than when we compare microphones.

Maja:

Testing the equipment at Just Music with the sound guy there is, at the same time, an amazing and dispiriting experience. It’s made me realise just how bad our equipment is. For a start, we discover that three of the microphones we have, which are all from the same set, are seriously substandard. When the guy sets the sound desk and I use our industry standard microphone after using one of the three others, I can suddenly hear myself so much better. It sounds just amazing. Clearer and crisper. A lot of that muddled feeling that I have such a hard time handling has disappeared. I can’t believe I used to go for the cheaper set because of the convenience of an on/off button. That was a really bad decision. Then we try the new mixing desk he’s recommended for us, as well as what he now says are the correct cables. For every little adjustment he makes, the sound quality just increases. By noticeable amounts, especially for me. Then he adds a little bit of reverb to my voice and a whole new layer of warmth appears making it even nicer to hear. I’m very impressed. 

I think I’ve concluded that if the sound going out to the audience is good, if the sound coming back to me isn’t right, I can’t sing properly so the sound going out won’t be so good. But if I can hear things properly, like it seems I will with this new setup, I’ll be able to sing so much better and impactfully which will mean a good performance and a good sound for both the audience and myself.

I also take the opportunity to learn a little more and ask any questions I have about the mixing desk, which increases my confidence in handling the system even more. Mark has some knowledge and experience of sound but he’ll be the first to admit he’s no expert and it’s great for both of us to get such a masterclass from this guy today. 

Mark:

The guy also brings out an alternative mixing desk, complete with effects which ours is lacking. We were thinking of maybe just buying a little effects unit to add a little more reverb or body to our sound, but this new desk is so much better than what we have and, added to the new microphone, is a revelation. So in it goes. As for monitor, we go through a few options and end up buying exactly the same speaker that we bought here last week so now we have two of them and we have a look now at how this should all be put together. To the collection we also add a bag in which to carry microphone stands, something which can be quite tricky on a trolley, not least when trying to carry it up and down stairs. And finally, we get advice on alternative speaker connector cables which again prove to be far superior to what we’ve been using. I think it’s fair to say we’ve completely overhauled our sound capability in here today in what has been a hugely beneficial exercise. But with all that, there’s one more thing to buy. Another trolley because all this new stuff can’t possibly be carried on one. So now the two of us will have a trolley to pull to gigs. But it also means a little weight has come off the one that we had, so overall the effect is to make the process much easier. And once we’ve started to use this equipment a little more, not least the monitor, we feel we’ll have a far better sound and much more control over it which will also translate to confidence and consistency of performance. To be fair, we may have been struggling with this a little more than we realised with equipment that wasn’t quite up to what we thought it was, and without our own dedicated monitor. As we happily leave the store, we feel ready to start working to hit the next level.

But, beyond Berlin, where is this next level going to take place? We have no idea. We kinda have plans to go to Prague next but surely there’ll be no point being there until at least the second or third week of January. Nothing happens in any immediate new year. We could go and chill for a while and rehearse and get our bearings but we’re not convinced. We consider going back to Ireland for a few weeks but that would involve a drive across Europe for a ferry, and then a drive all the way back out here when the time was right again. Seems a bit much. Stay in Berlin until we’re ready to move somewhere else? But stay where? Especially considering our current place closes in a few days. Katia’s apartment is still on the cards but far from a solid proposition. And of course we were supposed to be in England over Christmas until that got pulled away a few days ago.

But Maja has another possibility. Friends in Sweden are going away for Christmas and they’d be up for having us stay at their place from the 21st until the new year. This has been quietly bubbling away for a few days and today gets confirmed. Brilliant. So that’s that sorted. We already have Artliners booked for the 19th and were never considering leaving immediately the day after. So the 21st suits us perfectly. We can already see that Berlin is starting to wind down for Christmas and there’s no open mic anywhere tonight that we’re aware of. Fine. Given that we need to make the most of what we learnt at the Fargo experience, especially considering how tired we were for that show, we decide to concentrate on Artliners. We really want to be at our energetic best for that one, especially as it’s livestreamed. We’re very happy with how much we’ve been able to play and put ourselves about, so we decide to use this week for relaxing, sightseeing and rehearsing. And Diary writing and podcast recording. But we will do Zum Krokodil tomorrow, returning to that particular venue for the fourth time.

The Berlin Diary, day 13

Day 13

Tuesday December 14

Mark:

It takes us a while to feel ready to record today’s podcast which we title, ‘We’re Going To Need A Bigger Trolley.’ As soon as we finish, we have to leave to get to Zum Krokodil in time for registration at 7pm.

By the time we’ve finished all our little administrative things after the podcast and really got on our way, we’re leaving a bit later than we wanted and we end up almost sprint walking to the place; if the list is full tonight, arriving just five minutes later than required could be the difference between playing and not playing. But when we get there, we find a very chilled place with only two prospective performers and host Conor. Berlin is indeed winding down beneath our feet. However, the quieter atmosphere allows us to talk to Conor and the guys a little more and we get a few questions about who we are and what we’re doing here. This opens us up to talking about The Diaries and the tour a little more, and how this all began back in London. Conor is captivated by the story and promises to give us a good introduction, saying he will also tell people about the website and the podcast. Brilliant.

He holds back starting the evening a little as people are slow to arrive, but about 15 minutes after the intended start time, he does get up and do his thing in the spirit of just getting it rolling. But soon after, people do start to arrive in greater numbers and the potential list fills up and it is really looking like this could again be something tonight. When the time comes to introduce us, Conor stays very true to his word and really gives us a big lead up, showing that he totally gets our story and that he’s fully caught onto what we’re doing. We have three songs. We’ve debated this quite a bit and have agreed on Insanity and Run, but then what to play as a fourth song? We simply have to do I Like You (Better When You’re Naked) everywhere we go. But then where does that leave Rock’n’Roll Tree? We kinda have to play that too. Insanity and Run go great and then the choice of third song comes in. Almost without thinking I just launch into Rock’n’Roll Tree. Maja looks at me across the stage like, ‘Are you sure?’ I am. And it’s started now. Cool, is her reaction. And we’re in. Fully committed, right to the end. The growing audience erupts as we finish and Conor comes bounding over to us to do the whole presenter thing. ‘The Diaries, ladies and gentlemen,’ he exclaims. ‘You will be seeing them next at Wembley Stadium.’ Well, yeah. That’s the attitude we’re performing with. Nice to see it’s being caught onto.

The rest of the evening goes by with some really high quality performers, and when it’s all over, plenty of them stick around for the post show hang.

Maja:

It’s been a great performance and there’s really not that many people around. It’s right before Christmas, in the height of covid with the new Omicron variant just starting to spread around like a tsunami of doom. It’s on everyone’s minds, and people are staying at home for both of these reasons. That means that the few people that are actually here are the regulars and a few other brave souls whose paths crossed with Zum Crocodile. We’ve also played here before, so the regulars very much remember us as that crazy act that literally shook the place with our performance. All of this leads to people all around being very easy to approach and talk to. So I get to have a great chat with Connor the host, and also with Mabloni the Apple Pie guy. Connor invites us to his performance this Saturday, but honestly I have no idea if we’re going to make it. I really want to go, so I make sure to ask if we can buy tickets at the door since I’m not sure if we can make it. I’m met by understanding and maybe a little ‘Yeah, I’ll make sure that you can. It should probably be OK.’ Great, thank you very much. I really hope we can make it. I also chat a bit with Mabloni. I really like his performances, and in my mind he is the apple pie guy that has never been to the USA. A combination of his two performances from last week, and they’ve really stuck in my head. I like the guy and I even buy his CD so I can listen to those songs myself. It’ll be fun to have something to listen to in my car for some of my long drives. 

I’m quite happy with both my performance tonight, and with how much I was able to chat to people. 

The Berlin Diary, day 14

Day 14

Wednesday December 15

Mark:

As we’ve established, we really feel we’ve been seeing the Berlin the tourists don’t see. Getting right inside it to almost become part of the place and, actually, part of what tourists do come to see, which is what the local entertainment scene has to offer. In that, we really do feel like we’ve penetrated to some level of depth.

Maja:

It’s more like we’re living the true Berlin. We’re getting into the nooks and crannies of what Berlin is, far away from the beaten tracks we imagine most tourists would see. We’re living the nightlife in deep covid territory, where you have to get a nose swab everyday before you’re even allowed in the door of the venues where you’d want to go. That’s the Berlin we’re used to, the Berlin filled with hope and creativity perfectly imperfectly stalled by a pandemic. But that doesn’t mean we don’t want to see the tourist Berlin a little bit too. It is after all a city filled with historical meaning which seeps through every corner of every building, every gust of wind and even the people walking the streets. 

Mark:

Well today, we are going to hit the tourist trail and we want to do it while it’s still light. First destination: The famous Christmas market in Charlottenburg. There are quite a few of these around Berlin, but this one is right at the centre of Kurfurstendamm, or the Ku’damm, the city’s most prestigious and possibly most attractive shopping street. At its centre is the Kaiser Wilhelm Church which was bombed in the second world war and left unrepared as a memorial. This is a spectacular setting for our market today, which is built all around the church, so sits literally in the shadow of it. The market itself is a wonderful display of traditional stores left and right all the way around in a large circle and we take in the whole thing before opting for German currywurst followed by a hunt for something on the sweeter scale, which we find in the shape of a skewer of candy coated grapes which are every bit as much fun to eat as you might imagine. The stores themselves are all wonderfully photogenic and we take it all in as we wander around, marvelling at the church and savouring the general fairground attraction feel.

When we’ve looked around all we can, it’s back to the car and a drive around this historic centre as we go all the way up to the Brandenburg Gate past the Victory Column roundabout, and then up past the Tiergarten and the T-34 tanks of the Russian war memorial. 

Back ‘home’ and we start to think about taking a trip out. The open mic at Laksmi isn’t on tonight but we think it could be good to go and have a hang out there and maybe see if there are any friendly faces. When we get there, it’s not just the open mic that’s finished but the whole place as a sign announces it’s closed for Christmas. Oh well. Next destination. Which is a lovely looking bar across the road that we already had our eyes on. A place advertising itself as a craft beer specialist. We really do have to go and have a look. Once inside we find very welcoming bar staff and set ourselves up at the bar to have a look at their selection and start working our way through it. As we’re talking to a few of the guys, the bar manager comes in from the back of the place and says hi. He catches that we’re talking about music and introduces himself. So we introduce ourselves as Mark and Maja, The Diaries. ‘Oh,’ he says, taking a slight step backwards. ‘I’ve heard of you guys. Apparently you made quite the impression at Laksmi last week. The landlady was in here talking about you.’ At this our bartender friend looks at us with a little more interest. ‘That’s really got me intrigued now,’ she says. ‘I will have to check you out.’ And through all this, we ourselves are very much taken aback. Once again, this does not happen. We take it as a sign that we’re developing at least the tiniest little slivers of reputation around here.

Maja:

Wait what? did the bartender of a bar we’ve never been to know us? 

I’m feeling giddily happy, and my chest can’t contain the excitement that just keeps on flowing out of me. What an unbelievably fantastic night. 

The Berlin Diary, day 15

Day 15

Thursday December 16

Maja:

Thank you Plus Hostel Berlin. You’ve been great. I wish you’dn’t have had to shut your doors. Now we’re going to have to leave this awesome start to our journey and find somewhere else to call home. 

Mark:

We’ve booked our next hostel, Industriepalast – that’s Industriepalast – for two nights with the view to staying for the duration if we like it. Before then, we take our time getting ourselves together and leaving today. Check in for our next place isn’t until 2pm and checkout at Plus is 11am. But with it being the last day of school, as long as there are employees in the building, no-one really cares what time we leave. We make it out a little after 12pm and the guy at reception tells us we are the last guests in the building. The last guests ever to be at Plus Hostel, Berlin. The place Maja has found is right across the road which is a little more of a trek than it sounds, but still. It isn’t far. So we do it all on foot in two trips. Arriving there, we tell the receptionist that we know check in isn’t until 2, but we had to be out of our last place by now, so could we please leave some stuff here and come back later. We’re told yes, and then the guy is stunned at the amount of gear we bring in to be stored in their little lock-up on the ground floor. We leave him to contemplate all that while we head out for another little tourist day to fill the time between now and check-in. Destination for today: Alexanderplatz. This is the central zone of old East Berlin and home to Berlin’s TV tower and it’s a good solid walk away.

This walk takes us right along the almost mile long section of Berlin wall from the East Side Gallery, stopping for the first time to actually take some pictures of ourselves here. Yes, we are in full tourist mode. We reach Alexanderplatz and just have a general walk around, surprised that there really isn’t a great deal to actually see here but it’s still cool to have made it to the base of the tower we’ve been looking over at for the past two weeks. A wander round the area for a while, stopping for lunch in a sushi restaurant and it’s time to make it back to check in for real. We return on one of the spectacular train routes that cross all over the city like a kind of inverse tube system. Here, it’s all above ground so that as you walk around the place, trains are constantly rushing over your head, or high to the side of you around 20 feet up. Now we’re riding one of those trains and taking in the full panoramic city view they always provide. We arrive at the hostel around 5pm, reclaim all our stuff and take it up to the room we’ve been assigned and choose our own beds – mine on one side of the room and Maja’s on the other. On a chair next to her bed, Maja’s finds a suitcase which she casually picks up and moves next to the one other bed in here that someone has already claimed. OK. So we have a room mate. Cool. There could be more to come as this is a six-bed room with three others yet to be spoken for.

But we don’t think any more about that. Today has taken it out of us again and, on our respective beds, fully clothed and on top of the covers, we both soon fall deep asleep. A half hour or an hour or so later I’m woken by the door opening to our room. I’m on the right hand side of the room looking down a small corridor towards the outer door. Inside this corridor to the left from where I’m looking is the bathroom. Into the room now comes our new roommate and would-be companion. That’s how it works in hostels, right? Everyone’s sharing bedrooms and kitchens and toilets and showers. People are on their own or in groups and most of them are on holiday or at least in some kind of holiday mode. Whatever their reasons for being here, it is by definition a shared, communal environment and everyone gets along to get along, occasionally on the way meeting people who become good friends. At the very least, you generally go for a friendly disposition and more or less expect something from that genre to come back at you. Right? OK. Let’s see how this plays out.

I look up, look down the little corridor at the figure scurrying into the room and, wanting to create something of a welcoming environment for someone entering their previously private room to now find it occupied, take the initiative and say hello. I not only get no reply, but this person glares at me with deep malevolence and silently continues down the corridor. ‘Oh,’ I think, slightly taken aback. If she’s not happy at me being here, wait till she sees the other bed. She’s fully in the room now and Maja’s also awake. ‘Hello,’ Maja offers. Again, silence. This person seems to have come in here under the impression we’ve broken into her very own private house and are sleeping on her couch having helped ourselves to her leftovers from last night, possibly kicking her dog while we were at it. Look missy, this is a shared room containing six beds. Or did you not quite get the concept when you booked in? ‘Don’t you speak?’ I ask at some attempt to break what is strangely starting to look like tension around here. ‘I have a zoom meeting,’ she barks out into the air at something or someone out there. Fine. ‘And where’s my bag?’ she snaps sharply. Maja points next to this girl’s bed and without acknowledgement she goes and picks it up and puts it somewhere else.

Did she say she has a zoom meeting? In here? In a six bed room in a hostel? I do hope she’s not expecting us to sit or lie here in silence while she conducts that. Or at least, if she did have that hope, it may well have been accommodated with just the slightest of courtesies anyone should be able to expect in this kind of setting. But no. Sorry. She’s just been plain rude and ignorant. Actually, try downright hostile. So when she does actually begin a call for which she clearly expects silence to be observed from her underlings, minions and general inferiors in life, I go across to lie down with Maja and the two of us begin to talk. Not loudly or overtly, just normal bedroom level that we somehow deem ourselves the right to have. We really haven’t read the rules or received the memo. Charm girl makes a big show of telling her zoom contact she has to go somewhere else, loudly packs up her computer and, in something of a pique, huffs out of the room, leaving me and Maja breathless with a mixture of laughter and total confusion. We stay there for another half hour or so until the door opens again, our new best friend walks in, sees us there, glares in full, eviscerating disapproval and turns and storms back out again. 

She’s back around five minutes later, this time accompanied by a friend and the pair of them start gathering all her things. This ‘friend’ is actually an employee of this place but I don’t discover that until later. I make the clearly stupid mistake of trying to say hi to him and get the same silent treatment she dished out. Not to be intimidated at all, I get up out of bed, dressed only in underpants – yes, very deliberately but I do immediately get dressed in front of the two of them – and I say to him, like I said to her earlier, ‘Do you not talk either?’ He turns to me in with what he hopes is a withering look and snarls, ‘I don’t have to talk to you.’ Whatever. I wonder if all the staff in here are so courteous to guests. Along with Maja I just watch them pack up and leave while the girl says something about having a train to catch. I can’t help myself here and go all faux friendly, wishing her a very happy journey and telling her we will miss her greatly. Oh, if only I could adequately capture in words the gravity of the eye roll this attracts. I’m sure some kind of head muscle must get pulled executing such a manoeuvre. Well, she’s gone now, she ain’t coming back and really, the very best of riddance. What a horrendous person. And what a terrible, unprofessional employee. Unless she told him something about us that really didn’t happen. So, to repeat, what a totally horrendous person it’s just been our misfortune to have to have been put in a room with. Well, she’s gone now to continue to be miserable to herself and inflict that misery on any other unfortunates she happens to encounter today and the rest of forever.

Maja:

I wish I could say that Mark’s account was over the top, that it didn’t happen quite like that, but I can’t. Every single word is true and even expressed quite lightly compared to how it really felt. So I’ll write my account of the situation as well.

Entering the room there were things scattered around everywhere. Wet clothes hanging in the entryway, underwear in the shower, bags and small stuff on every little surface in the room. Clothes on every chair except for the one next to another bed which had a suitcase on it. And of course padlocks on all suitcases and on the locker. Clothes hanging on the rail to her bed meaning no-one could really use the bed under hers. And of course, her things completely dominated the one table in the room. And in we come, with all of our luggage that we’ve struggled to carry all the way up to the room. When we’ve finally got everything in, the only thing I touch of hers is a suitcase on a chair next to the bed I’ve chosen. I move it across the room and put it next to what is clearly her bed. Now I wish I’d taken all of her stuff and put it on her bed and poured a bucket of water on it. That would have been appropriate for her level of rudeness and hostility. Maybe.

Well, I can understand that during covid she might not have been expecting company in the room, so I was very respectful moving about in the area. Not that I did much, because both me and Mark immediately fell asleep of exhaustion after moving in our luggage. Then when she comes back I wake up to the sound of the door and Mark saying hello. She takes a couple of steps into the room and I say hello. I mean, it’s a new roommate, let’s be friendly. But I am met by the most horrifying stare of my life.  She looks at me with such vile disgust that you would have thought I’d killed her cat. They are eyes of pure hatred. I am completely taken aback. It feels awful. Her first words come out in a forced, spiteful, accusatory bark. ‘Where’s my bag?’ I point to her bed where it is clearly visible. If she’d not stopped to be rude she would have walked right into it. She then sits at the table, takes out her computer and announces that she has a zoom meeting. Oh, OK. What kind of strange behaviour is this?

Why would you check into a six bed dorm room expecting to be alone? Why do you think that this is your office? How can you hate someone just for being allocated the same room as you? How can you now expect me to respect your meeting when you treated me with hatred? When I was asleep in MY BED?

I have no idea what this woman thinks when Mark comes into my bed a little while later and we talk to each other for two reasons. One, to simply annoy her if we’re to be totally honest, and two, to genuinely try to lighten up the terrible mood that she brought into the room. I’m glad we did, because she keeps looking at us like we killed her cats and dogs and everything else that she holds dear. If she knows how to hold things dear, that is. Come on, we’re not even doing anything bad, I think to myself as she keeps making distraught noises. These soon stop as she makes a big show of giving up, tossing her computer back into the bag and storming out of the room. 

This makes me and Mark start to giggle. Wow. What a jerk. I’ve never experienced such horrid, completely undeserved behaviour. It actually makes me want to get up. Absolutely shaken, we walk around the room, talking about this horrible experience in disbelief. Well, she’d been doing laundry, and we kinda need to do some as well. So I take a shower and start to hand-wash a couple of our items, hanging them all over the room as she did. Just to annoy her when she comes back. I make sure that we take up just as much space as she did so that it feels a little more fair. It’s not her room to own, and she is not allowed to mess with me. Nah ah ah. No way. I’m getting my revenge by pettiness. I’m doing laundry, which I needed to do anyway. And I’ll move her stuff a little bit to the side to fit ours in. Which is completely normal behaviour I normally wouldn’t think twice about doing, but it is certainly going to tick someone like her completely off. After moving around for a while, I’m starting to feel tired again and fall asleep next to Mark only to wake a little later to a similar experience all over again. 

What I hear is the door opening, and then slamming shut but no one enters the room. A couple of minutes later she comes armed with a male companion of sorts. We try to say hello, but are met with absolute silence. This is making us both angry and I can feel a sense of helplessness bubbling up inside of me combined with frustration. Mark approaches and asks the man, ‘Don’t you talk either?’ He abruptly says, ‘I don’t have to talk to you.’ What in the world is happening? How can you behave like this? These people seem sober, and there is literally no explanation for what’s happening. I don’t understand. I feel underdressed and vulnerable without anyone caring about what had happened from my point of view. Once again it happened when I was asleep, and I’m not especially quick up. They soon remove all of her objects with which I am helping and pointing things out and there’s been a word about her catching a train. I wish her a nice trip and am extremely polite. What a ridiculous lie I think as soon as I hear it. Well, OK. What a horrible experience. After they’ve left we’re alone again. Well, at least it’s nice to get rid of her, we agree.

I go to the toilet and realise that the hostel hasn’t even filled up our toilet paper. We’re out and I need to go to the reception to ask for more. When I get to reception, I recognise that very same guy who was in our room just now. I ask him for toilet paper and then I take the opportunity to try to inquire about what just happened. He looks troubled. I tell him that we literally did nothing and that she just came into our room while we were sleeping and was really rude. And then she just moved out. As I ask ‘What happened, what did we do?’ he just looks at me with disgust and says, ‘I’m not supposed to talk about this but that is very different to her story.’ And he gives me a toilet roll and refuses to tell me anything more. What a jerk. It seems like she has made up all kinds of lies to this man about how awful we’ve been, and now he refuses to show any interest in our side of the story. I can’t defend myself. I can’t even get to know what lies she told about us. There is nothing I can do, and it feels awful. I hate this unfriendly place. This is the most unprofessional kind of behaviour being shown by a member of staff of the hostel. 

Going back up to Mark, I completely distraughtly tell him what’s just happened, and that I  really want to go somewhere else. But at least now we kind of know that no one else is going to come and stay in our room. Why would they put someone in here now after believing whatever horrible things that girl says we did?

The Berlin Diary, day 16

Day 16

Friday December 17

Maja:

We’re really tired today, but we now have the room for ourselves so we’re able to sleep and get as much rest as possible. We need to make ourselves a little bit fresher in preparation for the gig on Sunday. I don’t really fancy a new move so we decide that this place is going to have to do until the end of our trip here in Berlin even though it is unfriendly and we don’t really like being here. So, while Mark is having a stretching session, I go out to buy some padlocks in case we get any more horrible roommates. We try to let go of the anger and frustration we feel and just go about our day. Part of this is that we really need to rehearse for our gig at Artliners on Sunday. We rewrite a part of All Kinds Of Wonderful as well. I’m impressed that we’ve managed to get so far as to run through a couple of songs and even do a rewrite with such an uneasy feeling in our chests. 

Right. Time to endure and actually try to make the best of the situation. ‘Mark, can you go down to extend our stay for a couple of days?’

Mark:

All lightness and innocence, I go down to reception today to extend our stay. The place has been quiet as anything, we know Berlin is on its last days before closing for Christmas so this is a mere formality. But no, I’m told when I make my enquiry. Sorry. The whole place is booked up. You have to check out tomorrow. There’s just no way. No way at all. This girl has clearly accused us of something quite unforgivable and without even the slightest attempt at discovering our side of the story – we wouldn’t have a side, there is no story – management has decided to just kick us out. Oh well. We’ll take that as our little side order as rock’n’rollers on tour. Being asked to leave the hotel. That’s how it’s supposed to go, right? I could say we now go and smash the place up like you’re supposed to as rabble rousing musicians, but there’s no need because the management here has done quite a good job of doing that themselves. Nothing is quite right in the place. So many things are just a little bit broken or a little bit off. Like the reception area itself. Dark and dingy and very unwelcoming. Silent staff almost whispering to each other as they sit darkly awaiting the next intake. And, as it goes in hospitality, the mood is set by the staff. So the guests equally wander about in cowed silence, barely speaking to or acknowledging each other in this air of benign repression. Maja homes in laser like towards the one huge indicator of everything that’s not quite right about this place – Industriepalast incase you’d forgotten. There’s a pool table here and no-one’s used it once since we got here despite the fact that the balls sit invitingly right there in reception. The pool table is the one sure place where strangers everywhere find common ground as they good naturedly challenge each other and then get to know each other. But no. As we’ve discovered. Here at the Industriepalast, strangers aren’t allowed to talk to each other. Even the employees will duly glare at paying guests with total hostility and state, ‘I don’t have to talk to you.’ Do you really think we actually wanted to stay here beyond our booked time? For the convenience of it, sure. But for every other reason, we’re really quite relieved that decision has been taken out of our hands. Onto the next place.

The Berlin Diary, day 17

Day 17

Saturday December 18

Maja:

We need to check out today, and so we need another place to spend the night. I found another hotel/hostel where I booked a double room for us so we’ll eliminate the risk of drama and so we can enjoy the last couple of days here in Berlin. It’s called 36 Rooms Kreutzberg and check-in opens at 3 PM. Perfect. Checkout here is at 10 AM so I leave Mark in the reception while I go fetch my car that is parked a couple of minutes away. As I return, I find Mark and our friend Mattheus sitting on the sofa chatting. Oh, how nice. He is a saxophonist playing all around and has just returned from Hamburg checking in to Industripalast as a replacement for PLUS hostel. We have a great catchup as he helps us load the car full with our bags. It’s crammed with equipment and there’s only space for two in there so we have to say goodbye. I hope we’ll meet again soon.

Me and Mark now have time to drive around for a while until check in, so we do and enjoy the views and history of Berlin from out of the car window. It’s a spectacular city.

A little after 3pm we arrive at our new place and drag all of our luggage into the hotel and to the bottom of a staircase while I go to check us in. I tell the receptionist that we have a lot of luggage and she gives me a worried look as she explains that they have no elevator and the available room closest to ground level is on the third floor. Oh my. I guess we have to carry everything. I get back out to Mark and tell him that we’re on the third floor. Ok great he says as we start to carry our bags up the stairs. We leave most of it waiting at the bottom as we start with what we can carry. We go up one flight and there’s a door. Then two more and there’s another door. Then two more and there’s a door saying floor one. Then two more and we’re at floor two. And then after the last two we’re finally at floor three. Our floor. We’re both sweating and panting. This can’t be true. We’re not on floor three, we’re on floor five. They’re only counting floors with bedrooms in their numbering system. And there’s no elevator. 

I don’t even know how we manage to get the luggage up to the room but we have to, so we do. 

Well in the room there’s barely space to stand next to the double bed. But it’s nice to be by ourselves and we enjoy it briefly before heading out for a bite. 

When we return back home we feel excited about the gig at the Artliners tomorrow, and the move here has been tiring so we look forward to a good night’s sleep.  

Well.

That doesn’t really happen. 

The waterbed mattress is way too soft and moveable, every movement Mark makes tosses me around like a leaf on a pond, which in turn increases his movement and so on, and so he wakes up too, and it just isn’t possible for either of us to relax that way. 

And curse the room that’s too small to even lie down on the floor. The reception isn’t staffed until 10 O’clock in the morning because of covid, so there’s no hope of a room exchange until morning. There’s nothing we can do. 

Mark:

I’ve never seen Maja as desperate as she is at three in the morning. She’s not slept for one minute and can’t see any way she’s going to be able to. Desolate isn’t even the word. Rather than enjoying a relaxing night, she’s fighting back tears and the tears are winning. What the hell can we do about this? To be fair, I’m feeling it a bit as well but I think I’m more or less OK with it. But she definitely isn’t. In an extreme move she decides to sleep on the floor. In a hotel. She doesn’t do too well with that either and I soon say that I’ll sleep on the floor and she can try the bed without two of us in it making shaky movements; we can’t even both sleep on the floor because there’s only room for one person down there in this tiny room. That only works just a little more with Maja just about making it solo on the bed. But not really. She even leaves during the night, saying she’s going to go and sit in the kitchen and try to write so she can at least get something out of this night. 

Eight in the morning rolls round and we’ve both been totally awake all night. And after taking it all easy for the past few days to give ourselves the best chance to freshen up for our show tonight. Well, this has been just about the worst preparation possible.

Maja:

I don’t get any writing done. I’m far too stressed for that and just end up watching Youtube videos to pass the time. When the clock turns around to morning and neither of us sees any kind of possibility of getting to sleep we feel more and more desperate. How will we be able to pull off a gig without being able to sleep? How will I be able to sing and put on a show if I’ve not been able to sleep? I have no choice but to accept this reality.

The Berlin Diary, day 18

Day 18

Sunday December 19

Maja:

I am watching the clock for when the reception opens and when they do, I go down and beg them for a room change. To a room with a real mattress. We don’t get that, but the cleaners do offer to change mattresses, giving us one from another room. Perfect. That was all we really wanted. It also means we don’t have to carry everything again to change rooms. Problem solved. Now we’re going to be able to sleep tonight, but the damage is already done, and we are going to have to perform with me having spent the majority of the night rolling around sleepless and sitting in the kitchen watching youtube. I just hope I’m able to put on a show. 

Mark:

So much for taking much of the past week off to rehearse, chill and make sure we were fully prepared and ready for tonight’s show. It’s almost 11 O’Clock in the morning and we still pretty much haven’t slept yet. But we do at least have an acceptable bed now and we fully intend to use it. I must say here that we attach no blame to 36 Rooms Hostel. The waterbed was in the room in all good faith and I’m sure many people love and venerate them. We’re just clearly not among their number and we only discovered that when we were given one to sleep on. In fact, when we first discovered it was a waterbed, we were a little bit giddy over the novelty and thought it was a great idea. Until last night happened and we got to see and experience the thing up close.

We have to be at Artliners by around 5:30 which is a 40 minute walk away. Mercifully we don’t have to take any of our gear; this is our first fully organised gig complete with stage, full sound setup, sound engineer, host, and lineup of other acts. And it will all be livestreamed. Which means that just about everything on here is a first for Maja, including playing on such a raised stage. Everything we’ve done in Berlin we’ve either hustled ourselves or it’s been open mic. She’s never played an organised gig before.

Now, this 5:30 arrival time is fine. It gives us a leave time of 4:50 or something like that. Normally that would be a perfectly relaxed schedule but not at all when you’re essentially getting to bed at 11am. We set the alarm for 4pm and when it goes off it really feels like we’re being forced to get up in the middle of the night, or at the very least it feels like a horribly early morning alarm call. Ridiculous. All we have to do is get up, go for a walk and play a gig. Hardly Monday morning blues contemplating heading off to the factory or the office. But at the same time, it’s not at all the preparation we were hoping for what we consider to be the biggest and most important gig of our whole time in Berlin. And the last one for this trip. We really have felt that everything we’ve been doing has been leading up to this, we did our very best to prepare for it, and now we’re barely able to get out of bed to face up to the walk to the place.

But we do, and our very first stop once we’re out on the street is to find a shop and stock up on energy drinks. Now we’re ready.

When we arrive, we finally meet Yvonne, our contact there, and she’s delighted to see us and says we’re there in perfect time. We are also greeted by Tom Lee, the host for the evening. No-one else is here yet. They start to trickle in over the next half hour. The members of Primark The Band, Berlin based but from the UK, the sound engineer, and a few people Tom will be playing with tonight. He will be opening the show, compering it, and playing the final set of the night after the two guests have played, the guests being ourselves and Primark The Band. We’ve got the most simple setup so it’s decided we’ll play first, once Tom has done his opening thing.

Primark The Band do their soundcheck, then it’s our turn. Up to now we’ve done very cursory soundchecks based around Maja singing nonsensical stuff while I strum random chords, just to find our levels. But in the past few days we’ve spoken about this and decided we need a different approach. This concluded in us deciding to use our own songs for soundchecks in the future. We’re able to do this now because we now have enough songs in our repertoire that we won’t play all of them in any given gig. And also because we’ve kinda left A Listing behind having admitted that it just hasn’t really hit the spot anywhere. That and All That I Can Be. But A Listing is a particularly good soundcheck song because it contains so many dynamics. We get a little worried about this when Primark The Band is soundchecking as they keep getting asked to turn down. This is The Lazy Sunday Session afterall. The difference between them and us is that they have a much fuller setup of electric guitar, bass and drums, but even so, they don’t seem that loud. When we get up, I suggest to Maja that we launch straight into the hardest part of A Listing to see where that fits into this venue’s volume requirements. We smash it out as loud as we can and no-one says a thing. That’s a really cool discovery; where a full band would be told to turn down, at our loudest we’re still perfectly OK.

Soundcheck over and everyone can chill now and just wait for showtime and for the audience to all turn up. By the time that audience has turned up, we’re able to see the capacity of this place in Corona times. I’m sure it’s been totally filled out on plenty of occasions, but that can’t happen anymore. Instead, everyone has to be sat down which means a few tables around the dancefloor at the front are occupied but that’s it down at stage level. Everyone else is behind the camera, which is on the centre of the dancefloor, and in the main bar area, all seated on stools around tables, or sat at the bar itself. This means that only the people at the front get the full effect, and in the past that probably meant a lot of people. But these are the times we’re in and it’s great that we’ve just been able to keep playing, right the way up to our very last scheduled show in Berlin.

Just before it all starts, we’re thrilled when our own little social gang turns up to do us proud. Cintia, Eric and Mattheus. They’re all here and we find a lovely table near the back to all hang out around. Now we’re ready. And here’s Tom to kick it all off. 

He’s a very seasoned performer and has toured all over the world, so it’s no surprise that he delivers a very slick, polished set which is still perfectly rough enough to feel lively and edgy. When he’s done, he announces that it’s time for The Diaries from Ireland on their European tour, here for their first show in Artliners.

Maja:

It’s time. I step up on stage with a slight feeling of nervousness and excitement. This is hands down the biggest stage I’ve been on so far, and to be honest with you, the only real stage I’ve been on apart from some school performances and similar things I did as a kid. On our other shows there have been stages at times, but nothing as dedicated and fancy as this. It’s very raised, there’s not as much space to move around in that you might think, and the stage lighting feels scorching hot on my skin. I position myself as far forward as I can and I’m struck by how far away the audience feels. It’s a peculiar feeling and I’m not sure if they can really hear me that great all the way over to the other side of the bar. I’m feeling a little isolated up here on the stage with all the light on me. This show is more for the camera that’s filming the live feed, and cameras have a tendency of not giving especially good feedback in the moment. But we’re on and it’s time to put on a show. 

As we start it’s clear to see that the crowd is getting into it more and more, and we get some great reactions to songs such as I Like You (Better When You’re Naked) and Insanity. The crowd is really getting into it, and it feels good to perform. I’m not really used to hearing myself in the way that this soundsystem works; I can hear myself clearer than I’ve ever done before, so that ought to be good. We have a sound engineer managing the sound so I don’t have to, which is one less thing for me to think about. Overall it is a fun stage to be on, and we get through our set without too many issues. I have a timer next to me so we can keep an eye on that and not run over our allocated time, and everything is going quite alright. The set holds and we’ll have time for all of the songs we plan to play. The crowd seems to be moderately into it, which is as good as you can get when you’re the first band out and the crowd is still sober and very far away. As we finish our third to last song, Tom tells us “One more song guys” and our hearts drop. I can see it as clearly in Mark’s eyes as I feel it in my chest. Couldn’t you have warned us when there were two left? Then we could have just gone for the two last songs in our set that we had left as big finish songs and scrapped the third to last song. But that didn’t happen. We’re here now and we need to finish off this show. Me and Mark look at each other and in that moment we both know and say simultaneously, Rock ‘n’ Roll Tree. And we just smash it out. It’s intense and fun and I let out all the last energy I have in me. 

As we take our gear down and Primark The Band get up on stage we get some really heartfelt compliments. The bassist Meray says to me directly that she loved our show, and I just melt inside. Thank you so much. And then the night as rock stars begins. It feels like everyone is here, and we sit with our friends from the hostel that have come all the way to see us tonight and just enjoy the atmosphere. People talk to us and it feels great. After a while Mark comes and drags me to look and see behind the bar and points. ‘Look at that,’ he says. I do but I have no idea of what I’m supposed to be looking at until Mark says, ‘See they’ve pinned our card behind the bar.’ Oh yeah, they have. And he continues ‘Have a look and see what other cards they have pinned.’ Ehm, no I don’t. There are no other cards there. I look confused. ‘Exactly.’

The Berlin Diary, day 19

Day 19

Monday December 20

Mark:

We wake to a whole new Berlin. It’s over. All done. We’ve finished.

Maja:

All done. Yes. Amazing to prove that we can do this. Amazing to know it can be done. Amazing to have this experience.

We have done Berlin. Incredible.

Mark:

No more gigs to play, no more hustling to be done, no more rehearsing. It’s day off today and then we’re off tomorrow to go chill in Malmö, Sweden over Christmas and New Year during which time we plan to consolidate our sound and set and decide and plan where to go next. Prague has the nod right now, but we’re well aware Covid Europe could yet close in around us. Let’s see how it goes. For now, we’re just going to make the most of our last day in Berlin, which means going full tourist.

We get on a train and head out towards the Brandenburg Gate. 

Maja:

I just stand there, at where the wall once was in front of the mighty Brandenburg Gate. To think that this very spot once upon a time was impassable. I look over west Berlin all the way to the victory monument seeing the tank road that Hitler built. I have my back towards east Berlin thinking of the times where west was the ultimate unattainable free country for the easterners. It feels immense to think that it was impossible to pass through this very place that I’m standing on right now. Here people walk through east to west and from west to east all the time right next to me. If you didn’t know about this place, there’s no way you would know the importance of this very spot I am standing on. So I walk back and forth on the line where I imagine that the wall stood. I don’t feel like I can cross to the other side just yet. I want to think about it a bit more. Breathe in the feelings of the place. It’s almost like I can taste the importance of this very spot. And I breathe in, look at the monument and then I decide. It’s time for me to go to the other side. And I walk into east Berlin.

Mark:

As well as a walk through the gate, we decide we might have a look at the Checkpoint Charlie museum. But we haven’t done our Corona tests for the day. No problem, there’s a mobile test centre right there. With that, we go and do what will from now on forever be known as the Charlie Swab. Negatives produced and we head into the museum where we discover entry is just short of 15 euro. Not gonna happen. No worries. This whole place is a living, breathing museum so we go check that out instead, including a large outdoor space full of stories of escapes from east to west in the days before it all came down in 1989. The stand out for me is the story of an unnamed 20 year old who totally seized the day and the moment in a way few people could ever imagine and I think he’s instantly become my new hero. Almost a posterboy for The Diaries. Just jump. Just do it. Sometimes the window of opportunity opens and closes so quickly that by the time you’ve decided to climb through it, it’s already gone. Things really can happen in the splittest of split seconds, and then disappear as though they were never there and that’s that. Well, this guy was just going about his daily business and walking past the checkpoint when he noticed a bus was slowly going through and all the guards were on the other side of it. There may have been some hesitation and deliberation but if there was, it clearly couldn’t have been much. With zero planning and nothing on him but the clothes on his back and whatever may or may not have been in his pockets, he fell into step beside the bus and simply walked into the west, hidden from sight as the bus slowly made its way through the checkpoint. The ultimate lesson in opportunism and willingness to take whatever’s on the other side when you get there. Sometimes it’s enough just to get there and take care of everything else later. We’ve been walking around Berlin for the past few weeks and of course, like everywhere else, it’s full of people of all ages. Whenever I meet someone of a certain age, I wonder what life was like for them in the days before, during and after. And I also wonder if any of them have their own stories of escape. And while I’m here, it’s worth wondering if this guy still lives in Berlin and if we’ve been in his presence, if only for a fleeting instant while crossing each others’ paths in the street. This is exactly what I mean. Surrounded by history.

Mark:

It’s almost time to go home, but there’s just one more thing left to do. Go swing by Fargo, see Lenny, fill him in on what we’ve done and tell him our plans. When we arrive he’s busy catching up on admin but he’s enthusiastic and we say a quick hello and tell him that we wanted to stop and say hi and bye before leaving tomorrow. But we also wanted to say that we will be back sometime in the next few months, and back with more experience. He’s delighted to hear it and we leave him to get on with his bits and pieces while we go and hang out a little deeper in the bar. While it’s only a Monday night, the place is still busy with enough of a buzz to keep things going. Me and Maja take our time to warm up, realising only now just how cold we’ve been pretty much all day. Strange how you can feel perfectly comfortable with all this sometimes and then feel it so intensely as soon as you stop. We were only planning on having the one and saying hello but it soon becomes clear that we really don’t feel like braving the outside world again anytime soon. Jackets come off and we settle into the evening, which includes reliving some of our favourite parts of our time in Berlin and reflecting on what we’ve achieved in the two and so weeks we’ve been fully active here. This includes four full shows, two hostel shows and four open mics. And that’s before you consider the whole load of hustling we’ve done which has opened up venues for us to return to on the other side. And we haven’t even begun to explore the Irish bar route I so carefully put together on the night I was alone here before Maja arrived. So we have that to explore as well. We’ve not done too badly on the tourist stuff either. Yep. I think you can say we’ve done Berlin as much as we could have hoped to have done it. And we’ve done all this during a Corona time when many people were doubting our wisdom to even come.

After a while, Lenny closes his admin bits and pieces and signals us to come over and join him. We do, and now we make a cosy little threesome right at the corner of the bar which we now see has a sign: ‘Fargo ultras only.’ Wow. Welcomed to the inner sanctum. We sit there and chat with Lenny, who regales us with his Berlin bar stories and his own musical adventures – he’s a guitar player, so we were right that he had a good feeling for this stuff. As we wander deeper into the evening and he also hears more about us, our short and intense history and our plans, every now and then a Fargo regular stops by to have a hello with him, and then says hello to us and we end up in conversation there as well. This is how it works. Once you’re in a bar and chatting to known people, everyone else around will start to give you the time of day and more as well. And when you’re hanging with the boss, well the kudos and instant acceptance are only that much stronger. This is only the first time we’ve ever really sat down and spoken to Lenny but it feels like we’ve done it loads of times. The vibe is so comfortable. After a while longer, he says, ‘You guys are going to go out and get a lot more experience I can see. You’re going to come back to Berlin stronger and better for it. Call me when you’re back. I think we’ll be able to work something out.’ With that we suddenly feel a far deeper connection to Berlin and to Fargo. We also feel that we could really do something here and that it really could be a very cool musical home for us. To have this kind of welcome now is remarkable and beyond what we could have hoped for when we set out. For us, the coolest bar in Friedrichshain, which is the most happening area of Berlin. And here we are, deep in it. If we thought we might have created a Berlin to come back to before, we truly know that we have now. 

The Hamburg Diary, day one

Day one

Sunday February 27.

Mark:

After a mercifully slow morning we’re out early afternoon but everywhere around the Reeperbahn is closed. Everywhere. Oh well. We give up and come out to try again around 7pm. But again, most places are still closed. After the fully pumped up environment we found ourselves launched into last night this is a confusing and frustrating experience. But we find two possible venues where the people we speak to make positive noises but it’s more, come back in a day or two when the manager might be around. In one of them is some kind of test the power of your punch boxing machine with a few enthusiastic participants playing it. This creates a quite annoying punctuation of aggression every now and then which makes talking to the assistant manager quite difficult and, when we leave, we’re not entirely sure we would want to play there anyway. This is added to the guy talking to us about playing a three hour set. Or at least playing a few sets in a three hour period taking the bar deep into the night. We do not do covers so that wouldn’t work for us; no-one wants to see an originals band for three hours. Even in famous land, only the very top top and legendary acts play for three hours or more. More often, you’re looking at an hour to an hour and a half.  We have a slight language barrier along with the sounds of that mad boxing game so he doesn’t quite grasp all this. But he still seems positive and he does come round to the possibility that we could play for an hour or less while another act takes the rest of the night.

Maja:

How can a city have felt so alive just yesterday and today feel like a ghost town? I don’t understand it. I just don’t get it. Someone, please come here and explain to me so I really understand. This just does not make sense. At all. 

Maybe it’s a German thing? When we were in Berlin a little while ago, the whole city was closed on Sundays as well. It was so closed that even the supermarkets weren’t open. Come on guys. Seriously? Do you need to close down the entire country every Sunday? Even my little city of Stockholm is alive on Sundays. Walking around here seeing everything being completely closed makes it feel like I am in this little town in the countryside with everything being closed so the people could go to Sunday mass. Only the things around is a club town with music and sex clubs everywhere and that is very much not fitting my image of being in the countryside. 

As we do the second round out in the evening some bars are starting to open up, which gives me a little hope. Maybe it’ll come alive soon. I am giving this place the benefit of the doubt, the restrictions in Hamburg have been very strict and many places are still completely closed because of covid. Let’s see how this develops.

The Hamburg Diary, day two

Day two

Monday February 28

Mark:

Almost everywhere is still closed. Still. This has gone from excitement to mild frustration to perturbance bordering on actually quite annoying by now. What’s going on and when  will places be open? 

But today we take a walk to the far end of the main strip for the first time and in a bar called Cowboy Und Indianer we are greeted by the owner, Sven, who is very enthusiastic when we introduce ourselves. He says places are still waiting for the weekend and the relaxation of Covid restrictions before they open. Makes sense and we kind of knew Hamburg would be quiet enough this week but that doesn’t massively help our levels of slowly mounting impotent frustration. This comes again when, after saying, yes, we could play in here, like the guy yesterday, he brings up the three hour thing. Oh dear. When we tell him a bit more about what we do, he says he could be open to our suggestion of maybe playing part of a night and leaving the rest of it to someone else. So OK. Another tentative lead. Let’s see. 

Another place we think we might just have a lead, or at least a chance to network, is a  cool looking nightclub type live music venue at the end of our street called Molotow. It’s advertising a show tonight by a guy who plays more or less in our ball park. Could be cool to check out. But when we get there it is, yes, you’ve guess it, closed. However, there are some people inside painting and organising and we get the attention of one of the girls. At first she’s like, go away, we’re closed. But we’re insistent that we would like to talk, so she agrees to come to the door. Once she’s opened it and is face to face with us and we’ve told her what we’re about, she’s all friendly smiles and is very happy to help. She tells us that this place is closed for a little while longer yet but she does give us the names of a few places we could try. We’re very grateful and let her get on her way but they don’t seem right for us. They’re more venues for established acts to play. But still. You never know. The right email to the right person and we might just be able to rustle up a support slot one night which, apart from anything else, could open up a contact or two.

Maja:

We’re just walking. Back and forth. Up and down and the right way around. How long can you even walk trying to hustle gigs? My feet hurt and our mood just keeps on getting worse and worse. We can’t even talk to anyone, everywhere is completely closed. At least we’re building up a view of which venues where it would be possible to play in once they open up. Often we take a look inside a venue, a bar or a restaurant and we’re able to screen the place even if it is closed. Our screening often goes like this. ‘Oh Mark, look at this place.’ ‘Yeah.’ And we go lean forward to look inside the window. ‘Too small.’ We say pretty much simultaneously. Or it’s the wrong feel of the venue or something else. Like if we get a really bad feeling about the place or the clientele there’s no point trying to get a gig there. So we walk around and build ourselves a picture of where we’d like to come back to once they’ve opened, and if there’s anything remotely interesting we go in and ask them if we can play there. 

This is how we hustle. Until we drop from exhaustion.

The Hamburg Diary, day three

Day 3

Tuesday March 1

Mark:

One of the massively encouraging things on our Hamburg adventures so far is that we’ve found evidence of 20 open mics in and around Hamburg. One of them is at the end of the street at a huge bar called The St Pauli Brauerei. Except when we get there we’re told they’re not doing it anymore. Oh well. Corona and all that. A lot of things have changed we will discover more and more that a lot more of those open mics are no longer in operation. However, this place is at least open and we go in and see Simon, the boss. It’s only just opened this week and he says they may well have a place for us but please wait to see how the weekend goes. Fair enough.

With that we decide to check out an open mic at a place that translates as Friendly And Competent. That’s up there in great pub names as far as I’m concerned and I’ll let you decide if I’m being sarcastic or not.

It’s a bit of a trek out there but we make it in good time and get our name on the list. It’s quite a big place for an open mic with a pretty decent sized stage and very good sound system, all overlooked by a sound engineer who does his very best to give everyone the best possible sound – a not too common aspect of open mics.

We’re told we’ll be on fourth or fifth and we settle back for the show which demonstrates the highest overall level of any open mic we’ve attended. Everyone’s also getting the chance to do three songs rather than the usual two which is cool. We decide to go for I Like You (Better When You’re Naked), a first play of Six Sense Lover and Rock’n’Roll Tree. I’ll tell you now that, for better or worse, we’ve decided/realised that I Like You (Better When You’re Naked) is kind of a hit so will play it at every opportunity even as we start to believe we have quite a few songs that we think are, well, better. But we do love Naked and since when did songwriters have any idea of what their best songs were? Sometimes you just have to listen to the audience.

Naked gets the best response of anything all night. Rock’n’Roll Tree perfectly holds its own and, be far, this first outing of Six Sense is a little messy so it doesn’t really get a full chance. But we recover and really smash it out in the end so it’s partly rescued and goes down pretty well in the end. A girl sitting near the front is also kind enough to agree to film us on Maja’s phone and we end up with a pretty good version of Naked. It would be nice to be able to bring you one of the other songs because you’ve probably heard Naked once or twice already, but we weren’t best please with them, so this is what we have from tonight.

There’s a bit of a paradox about this place. It has a really cool vibe and, like I said, some of the best performers we’ve come across. But no-one really talks to anyone else. There’s no actual sense of songwriter community, or any other kind of community really; two of the best performers sit at the front, do their thing and leave. Which is also quite disappointing. We do manage an enthusiastic chance with one duo of wonderful performers, but they tell us this is the first time they’ve played their own stuff live, so the novelty value is still high for them. 

When everyone’s had a go, it’s time for the closing act to do their thing which is a cover duo. They play for half an hour or so and then the floor just seems to open up again and people can just go up and have another go. We watch this in mild confusement for a while and then, after a few people have done their thing, the host comes and asks if we wouldn’t mind going up and closing the evening. Wow. That feels like something of an honour really, first time out. So up we go and play Insanity and Freefall. That done, it’s time to start making our way home. We do that by very luckily arriving just in time to catch the last train to the Reeperbahn. 

Maja:

I’ve barely been drinking at all in Sweden and my alcohol tolerance has been greatly reduced which is something I really get to notice during our recently once again increased nightlife. I’ve had maybe two pints after performing and was not planning on getting back up on stage. I prefer to perform sober so I’ve always waited with the drinks until after performing, for the socialising part of the night. But tonight I got asked out of the blue to close the night. Of course I am going to close the night. There would be a waste not to. So we get up on stage, Mark is ready and we blast into Insanity which is a gentle but epic song. It goes down great. The crowd is cheering and I am so happy I was able to sing this song without lyrics. I’ve had a hard time with memorising all of our lyrics, there’s just so many songs to memorise and each and every one of them are incredibly lyric intense. But now I am able to do that song without lyrics. That’s an achievement for me. Let’s go for Freefall next. I love performing Freefall, the song is hard and deep with gentler moments in it and it just feels amazing to perform. When I sing it I can’t help but really go for it and to use my whole body really feeling the beat and the melody of the lyrics. As the song ends I sing the last line ‘I’m going down’ and drop down on my knees bending backward with my head almost touching the ground behind me. And the room absolutely explodes in applause. As I stand up I see the whole room looking at us and cheering. Feeling uplifted by the atmosphere of the room I say ‘Thank you, would you like to hear another one?’ fully expecting an answer. And I am met with embarrassing silence. OK, thank you, another lesson learned. Never ask the audience if they want to hear another one. Especially not in Germany. I honestly don’t believe the people here know enough English to understand my question or to answer it. And people don’t like getting put on the spot like that even if it’s clear to see that they would have loved for us to go on for longer. But this is great, you learn by making mistakes and I need to learn everything I can. I need the experience. So we thank everyone for an awesome show and start packing down our gear. This has really been an amazing night, even though the people here are not really that up for socialising. A couple of people tell us that we performed really well and we got the biggest reactions during the night, but it’s clear to see that this won’t lead to anything. It won’t be a cool afterparty to go to and there’s no future gigs to be found here. We might as well just say thank you and go back home to sleep and continue with the next day filled with the energy of finally having been able to break the no performance period we’ve had. This is the first performance since Artliners in Berlin, and it is great being on it again.

The Hamburg Diary, day four

Day four 

Wednesday March 2

Mark:

Like we did in Berlin, we’re thinking that any night we don’t get a gig, we could take ourselves off to an open mic somewhere, but we have a look today and discover there isn’t a single one happening tonight. And that list of 20 plus that we found, on closer look, we discover that nearly all of them happen only once or twice a month. Or, in one case, four times a year. So it really isn’t as abundant as it first appeared. And of course, Corona and all that, the list is hopelessly out of date. Totally understandably so, but yeah. So many of them aren’t happening anymore, or the places have closed down, or not opened yet. And that is really what’s happening right now. And again, we kinda knew it when coming. Hamburg isn’t really open until this weekend and we’re starting to see that it’s really mainly a weekend city anyway, or at least that’s how it’s currently operating.

Today’s the day to go out and see if we can find somewhere to park the car for free. We go and rescue it from the paid parking we’ve had it in since we got here and set off for the outer suburbs of Hamburg. Here, Maja decides to follow the route of the overground S Train so that we can hopefully be near a train station when we do eventually find parking. We also use the drive as an opportunity to take a detour or two and check out areas where we know certain venues are. What we discover is that, apart from the Reeperbahn where we’re staying, bars and venues are very sporadically spread about the city. We’re gonna go check the city centre later too, but with that being quite close to where we are, we can now see that we really are ideally situated and probably won’t have to travel too much for gigs. We also see that there’s going to be no point coming out to these areas to hustle and can’t now either because, yes of course, everywhere’s closed.

It takes a while, but we do find our parking space then jump on a nearby train to go check out the city centre which sits in the middle of a whole bunch of sea channels, so bridges and river-looking things all over the place. And while the Reeperbahn is nothing but bars of various description and a few shops, here there are hardly any bars or venues and we’ve found the place where you can buy things that aren’t food. We start to think about walking back and seeing what we can find barwise to possibly hustle on the way but we come to the conclusion that there probably won’t be anything, so as we reach the edge of the city we jump on the train and head back. Totally confirmed. For hustling, the only place to be is the Reeperbahn.

The Hamburg Diary, day five

Day five

Thursday March 3

Mark:

Moving day. Our hotel was booked up until today and we decided on Monday to check out the Kiez Bude, the hostel I stayed at all that time ago. And boy were we impressed. Even more so when they agreed to beat our room rate at our current place. It’s also right across the road from us, so a really simple transition to an amazing, pink en suite double room in, and yes this is really true, a former brothel. And they fully, er, embrace their past in the whole decor of the place, which includes their famous side by side two person toilet. The place is empty and we have our pick of rooms and so are able to bag their most famous and most popular room, the pink room. It’s up one flight of stairs, so a little carrying for us, but nothing major. We can handle this. A game changer here is that it has a kitchen with a microwave and a fridge. Things you normally take for granted, but a major deal when living on the road. This now means we can make more of our budget which, up until now, had seen us cutting back by mostly having noodle cups made with hot tea water from the last place, supplemented by as much fresh fruit as possible. Living like we do, when you have no kitchen facilities at all, it’s noodles and the like, supplemented by as much fresh fruit as possible, or have breakfast, lunch and dinner on the street or in cafes or bars, or restaurants in extravagant moments, and damn that can add up. 

Not only does the Kiez Bude have a kitchen, it also has a bar. Or at least a bar type area. Currently unstaffed and unstocked, but still a really cool hang out place to have. And at the back of the bar is a huge, and I mean huge, sofa on a slightly raised stage type construction. This will become our office for writing sessions and we sit here, literally as I type this, surrounded by sex memorabilia – is that the right word? – and erotic pictures. There’s even a Kiez Bude calendar over the bar, and the picture of the page for March is our room. This bar is just two or three metres from our room. And from our window we look right out onto the Reeperbahn and Beatles Platz. We can now see exactly how busy things are without even venturing outside. And yes. It’s Thursday, so approaching the weekend, and there is indeed a little more activity than we’ve been seeing since we got here on that explosive Saturday. Maybe we can actually find a few more bars open now. Time to go hustle.

A little high lighted inventory.

The London Bar. Why not? Quite small, but could possibly be good for low key daytime gigs if they’re up for it. They’re not. Apparently they’ve tried music in the past but neighbours upstairs got that thing vetoed and they don’t want to touch it anymore.

We go next door to the Scandinavian bar. We’ve hesitated about this place due to it’s silly boxing machine but we’ve thought, why the hell not, so here we are today. We meet the actual owner Anil. He says we could possibly do something in here tomorrow but he’s also leaving Hamburg tomorrow for the weekend. He may well let us know today, he may not. He doesn’t.

A few more bars are open that we’ve not seen and we go and check them out, everytime having to stop and have our Corona stuff checked before we can even go in and see the place to decide it’s too small or unsuitable and so we immediately turn and walk out.

What we are finding quite a bit is that people perk up when we tell them why we’re here, but we’re also finding that a lot of managers aren’t about and so we still can’t make any inroads.

One place we might be able to make some kind of inroad is Cowboy Und Indianer. And anyway, it might be a place to go have a drink. As soon as we arrive, Sven is there to greet us like long lost friends. And there’s a band playing. Great. We order a pint and settle back to enjoy the band which is a three piece playing covers. Before our drinks are finished, Sven is round to us with free shots. Wonderful. Thankyou very much. Then, when our drinks are finished, he returns and gives us free beers. We might just be able to get used to this. When we order another round, he comes and talks to us and says that we may be able to play here on Monday. Nothing confirmed, but cool. Something of a possible. 

We arrive back at the hotel to discover there’s nobody there. Nobody. Not, no guests. I mean, no staff, nobody. The admin office is a few doors down the street and there’s no-one running the bar or anything else. And we know the guests for the week have left and that no-one else has checked in. We are totally alone in here. 

The Hamburg Diary, day six

Day six

Friday March 4

Maja:

Hamburg has finally eased its covid restrictions. Finally. Now dancing is allowed again and places such as nightclubs that have been forced to close can open up again under the 2G+ rules. 2G+ means that you have to show full vaccination plus a booster or a daily test, and if you can show this you’re let in and can act as normal in the venue. Which means that you don’t have to wear those horrible super thick facemasks anymore that Germany has decreed you have to use as soon as you leave your seat. So finally we can have some kind of normality inside the venues again, and more places have opened back up as well. And we are here and ready for the reopening of Hamburg.

We made sure to rest yesterday after the move to have energy for hustling a town that is opening up. There’s no point wasting energy on a closed city. We’re out at 6 PM all prepared and ready to hustle for gigs. Our first stop is the Thomas Read Irish Pub and Club. Honestly I think it is a bit of a strange concept to have an Irish pub combined with a club, I always thought that an Irish pub would be a kind of chill place to sit and enjoy a couple of pints with friends and at times there would be some music or football going on. I would never really connect that experience with a club. That just seems a little bit wrong to me. We go in and enter this relaxed beer garden too cold for anyone to sit in, leading into the pub. The pub looks like it could have been taken right out of Ireland and placed here. The interior is full of the traditional dark wood that you would find at any Irish pub, there’s a couple of people already in drinking beer even though the place opened just a couple of minutes ago. They’re comfortably sitting at the bar as much a fixture as the furniture itself. We sit down at the bar for a second while Mark shows me the Whiskey selection which is one of the most extensive I’ve ever seen. I first look at just one shelf which is full of different kinds of high end whiskey which I would just love to try, and yes, the place has a great selection. I understand why Mark has talked so much about it. And then my eyes wander to the side of that shelf and I find another one. And another one. There must be three or four shelves of whiskey. Now I get it even more. That’s a lot. 

Mark:

When I was here with Drunken Monkees, we actually met and hung out with the guy who actually devised these shelves and personally sourced all the bottles. It was a matter of great pride to him and he told us that the bar owner just totally trusted him and let him get on with it to create the concept, which is still very much in place to this day.

Maja:

Well, much like Mark’s previous Hamburg experience, we’re not here on vacation. We’re here to work, and that means hustle. We need to find the manager so Mark asks the bartender while I look around a bit more. The bartender seems interested in what we have to offer, and actually goes to find the manager who is running around in the club and live event area downstairs preparing for tonight’s gig. It’s actually very cool that he is trying to get hold of the owner for us. But he soon comes back and says that the owner is far too stressed trying to set up the venue for the first gig since today is the first day in ages where they have been able to have music on. Fair enough. He also asks us to come back later, when it’s calmed down a bit. Sure thing. And we leave to try somewhere else.

There’s this bar or maybe I should call it a restaurant right under our room which we had a good feeling about but it’s always been closed. As we walk out of Thomas Read we decide to check it out. It is open. The place is called Bei Teresa and there’s a couple of young people there singing karaoke and drinking way too much for the time of the day. It’s obvious that they are using the place as a pre party before going out clubbing. We walk in and ask for the manager. There seems to be two of them, Teresa and Tommy. Approaching Teresa she meets us with positive sounds and asks us to ask Tommy. He is busy running back and forth at the back of the venue. He seems really positive and welcomes us to come play tonight. Great. We decide to return in an hour or so to set up. The night is still early, and we have other places we want to go to before it gets too late. And now we have our first gig. Progress.

We walk to the area around the back of the London bar. We’ve already scouted it and seen a bunch of bars there that seem like possible venues for us to play in. We go in and talk to a few bar managers, but we soon discover that a whole bunch of bars in this very area go through the same booker. After being sent to talk to this person, then that person and so on a few times, we finally meet the one lady responsible for all the live music in this very concentrated area of venues. She’s perfectly polite and pleasant and gives us her time, but it also becomes very clear that she is only interested in cover acts that can play three 45 minute sets in a night – the format we’re discovering is pretty much the standard around here. Nothing original. At all. And all the bars in this immediate area only have music through her, locking off this whole place to us. There’s no point lingering around here. Time would be much better spent in other areas where the music isn’t sourced through bookers in this strict way. OK. Fair enough. Let’s go back and play our gig.

Mark:

This is really frustrating. Walking up and down and around this area in the past week or so has been so exciting and full of promise as all we’ve been able to see is venues advertising live music. More than I’ve ever seen in a single area, including Benidorm – again, cover town. No originals please. On this one street alone earlier in the day, we stood in one spot and counted no less than seven live venues, and that was just the ones that advertised the fact. So to come and discover that they’re all sewn up with coveracts and no room for anyone like us is a bit of a kicker.

Maja:

And here I ought to explain in case you wonder why we are walking to all these venues like this, trying to talk to the managers. It’s because this is the only way we have of any chance of getting to play. We’ve emailed every venue we could find, around 40 plus venues in Hamburg, but we haven’t even gotten a single reply. Oh that’s actually wrong, we got one nice reply with someone that couldn’t put us on but recommended us to email a couple of other venues. Which we did, of course. But that is all fruitless. No one is answering, no one gives us an opportunity. I don’t know why, but that is how it has been so far. So that leaves us with two options, scrap our dreams of music totally and just go live conventionally, or to actually get out into the world, knock on doors, and generally just make it happen by sheer force. So here we are, investing in ourselves, backing ourselves, and trying everything we can just to get the chance of playing in front of people. 

But it’s kinda like this. Music is dead. Original music is dead. Very few people are trying anymore. Not like us. We are trying to revive it.

Mark: 

The hard truth is that, while we shouldn’t kid ourselves that it was ever easy, it’s now all but impossible for young or new acts to come through and has been for a while. Live venues are closing everywhere, of course, physical sales are barely a thing anymore and haven’t been for a long time so there’s little to no money for acts or record companies to make there, and streaming is little more than a vague promotional tool for artists; hardly anyone but the biggest make any real money. There have been cases of people receiving royalties of less than $20 for five to six million plays. Please go and read that last sentence again. The big stars make the big bucks this way largely because the model is set up to give people who sell more, a bigger percentage share of their sale. And there’s just a big general feeling that fewer and fewer people are bothering to have a go anymore. Damn, even I’d given up on songwriting and the thought of being part of an originals project at all before Maja came along. Noel Gallagher has said that he doesn’t see how another band like Oasis could happen anymore.

And on the day we put this account out, I see an interview in The Independent newspaper with The Who singer Roger Daltrey. He says that musicians can’t earn a living in the record industry anymore. ‘They’re being robbed blind by streaming and the record companies. Our music industry, I think, has been stolen. I think we really do have to be concerned when young musicians can’t earn a living writing music.’

Going into the financials, he continues, ‘The streaming companies pay so little in the beginning and then the record companies take 85, 90 per cent of that. You need a billion streams to earn 200 quid. That’s the reality.’

This is all the backdrop against which we’re operating, here now, really having a go on tour, lockdown odds and all the rest of it stacked against us. But we are writing our songs and taking ourselves out to have a real go at it. With that, we’ve decided we have to make it happen for ourselves rather than wait for someone to open some kind of door and give us permission to do it. We’ve seen around here how acts pass the hat around, even cover acts which has been a bit of an eye opener. But that really could be a way to do something and to generate our own income; bars aren’t going to pay original acts to play, and until you’re known on a pretty big level, no-one’s going to come out and pay entrance to a venue to see you. So if we’re to really do anything, we have to do it ourselves and we have to do it now. 

Maja: 

We get back to our hotel room and pack up our gear, including preparing the two trolleys with stuff strapped on to them. We are now ready to walk the extremely long walk to our gig. All twenty steps from our door to Bei Teresa’s door. Finally we’re about to get to play a full show. It’s been a while since we did that. The clubbing boys leave for their clubs as we start setting up, and there’s this one guy meaning to leave any second now, and he just keeps on staying. It’s quite amusing to see how he just stands there with his mouth half open watching us, meaning to leave, but never quite doing so. There’s a couple of other people there as well. As we get into the show, I especially notice this older couple that totally seem to enjoy every song. I decide I’m playing for them tonight. Thank you for being here, thank you for listening, and I am glad you’re enjoying it. I enjoyed playing for you tonight.

As we finish Tommy asks us to come back and play tomorrow. Today has been a little too dead but he really likes what we’re doing. Great. We just got ourselves a return gig. This is just brilliant. We played and the owner likes us, an original act, enough to ask us to come back. That doesn’t happen. This is brilliant. This is success. Happy we set out for our shortest journey ever back home to drop the equipment off in our room which is directly above the venue. Once there, considering it vertically, we are just a metre or two away from where we just played. 

Mark: 

Yes, the gig was disappointingly dead, but the few people who were in there really seemed to enjoy it, especially an older German couple near the front window who tell us they stayed because of the show. And the staff has been giving us good vibes about it  all too. Great.

I might just be getting ahead of things here, but I’m starting to wonder if this could be a residency. Tommy wants us again tomorrow, whatever has happened tonight. Based on that, once we’re upstairs in the room, me and Maja are starting to talk about this being a place we could just come and play on any off night. And if we are able to be here everynight more or less, maybe, just maybe, word could get around and we really could start to build something. Right under our hotel room. But all those thoughts get destroyed when we return downstairs and outside and see the opening hours of the bar. Only open at weekends. Damn. This really is a thing. Oh well. On with tonight and after that, at least we have a show tomorrow.

Maja:

Happy and giddy with the return gig and the prospects of an eventual residency, we freshen up and leave for our next hustle. Let’s go to Thomas Read. Mark has a really good feeling about this place and thinks that it could be a big possible gig for us, so it is high on the list of venues to visit. So we go and first I think that the line of people is to the nightclub next door, but no. There are two queues. One is to the nightclub, but the other, almost equally long one, is to Thomas Read. An Irish pub. Come on, this is just ridiculous. No way we’re waiting all that time to go into a full venue. Apart from the queuing time, the fact that there is a queue tells us that it will already be far too busy inside for anyone to have enough time to talk to us. Let’s see where else we can go. There’s this music club down at the far end of the club road, Indra, which has always been closed when we’ve been walking by. Let’s see if it’s open now. It is. There’s a guy outside having a smoke and we ask him if we need to show him our covid passports. He looks up at us with a smile and a completely ununderstanding face. But as soon as he opens his mouth to say hello, we can see that he has nothing to do with security and is in fact very very drunk. He then tries a ridiculous move of leaning very far forwards while holding onto the gateposts either side of him. Of course he can’t maintain the position and is soon hurtling down the few steps, heading for a heavy fall directly at us. His body is centred on me andI have to use quite a bit of strength to keep him from falling on the ground and dragging me down in the process. What a place already, and we haven’t even gotten inside the doors. We leave the drunkard where we found him and enter the building. Finally we’re here. Indra. The place where the Beatles began in Hamburg. It’s a big room, with maybe room for 200 people, with a stage in the back and a bar close to the entrance with a couple of bar stools for the last brave guests of the night. We sit down by the bar and order a drink, weissbier, celebrating the opening up of Hamburg and our life here. First gig down, second booked, which is a return gig. It certainly means we’re doing something right. Cheers. There’s a drunk DJ with his friend standing next to the stage changing vinyl discs on a very fancy looking DJ table, with boxes of vinyl singles that they look through all the time. We go to the area in front of the stage to dance completely alone on the dancefloor, moving around to the tunes of great 60s music with our private DJ in the fully packed club district in Reeperbahn. Yes, I’d rather be here than any of the full nightclubs catering as a meatmarket for 20 year olds. There’s almost no-one here but the owner of the club, a couple of regulars and the DJs. Exactly the kind of crowd we’ve come out to meet. And, don’t tell Mark, but I only think one of them was trying to come on to me. 

When we return to sit by the bar, we’re immediately greeted with shots on the house, and then we get to speak with the owner, Sam. And yes, he tells us all kinds of stories about the Beatles, including them playing in this very room, but it looked slightly different then. And he says they often played to no-one but the cleaner who used to put her fingers in her ears since she didn’t like the sound of their music. Hearing that story I feel oddly validated. Especially after tonight’s gig to an almost empty venue. I haven’t really been through that many non attended or under-appreciated gigs, but it kinda feels good to know that no-one even wanted to listen to the Beatles when they were new. I don’t think people anywhere like to listen to new music, and that is becoming more and more a pressing problem for me. We need to find the places where people want to listen. Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’d play anywhere if there’s even one person listening to us, but it’s obviously better to play where people want to listen. Well, not necessarily. If that one person is the right person, that’s the gig you want to play. But you’ll never know that. Right now it’s just a game of trying to get in front of as many people as possible. And play as much as possible, trying to gain experience. 

After sharing stories of the Beatles for a while, Sam leans in to inquire who we are. So we present ourselves, sliding over our card. The Diaries. Sam jolts back in shock. He’s heard of us and knows who we are. He says he remembers seeing an email we sent to another venue in town. So all those emails weren’t wasted afterall. I guess all you need is one to land, you just can’t possibly know which one until you’ve sent them all. He apologises that he can’t put us on right now, but there’s a gig tomorrow and he’d love for us to see it, so he puts us on the guestlist. We explain that we have a gig to play tomorrow as well, but he replies, ‘Just come before, and you can come back after you’ve played.’ As he says that, he pours us another round of those lovely baby guiness shots. 

The Hamburg Diary, day seven

Day seven

Saturday March 5

Mark:

We have very high hopes for tonight. Guest listed for a 50s rock’n’roll revival show at Indra that could lead to us meeting all kinds of people. Sam, the owner of the place with all his positive thoughts could have developed a lead or two for us to look at. And in between we have the second show at Bei Theresa to play. This last one produces a quite comical moment when I look out of our window mid morning and see Tommy sweeping the front outside area. I pop my head out for a hello to the owner of the venue right beneath our window that we’ll be playing tonight. He’s full of morning’s joys and once again exhorts us to, ‘come back.’ Yep, we definitely will. He shouts up a lot more that all sounds wonderful, encouraging and positive, but the wind, traffic noises and basic language barrierness all combine to cause his words to be somewhat lost. But the sentiment all stays intact and I make what I think are the right faces and noises at the right times and he waves a happy goodbye and goes back inside. As do I.

Maja:

It’s great to know the plans for the day. Quite unusual, but great. So during the day we can just sleep in and prepare ourselves for the show coming up. And for the show for which we’re on the guestlist. This is my very first time being on the guestlist to anything which is a moment to remember in itself. I, not knowing anybody here, walked into the coolest original music venue in Hamburg and got put on the guestlist for the show the next day. I’m having butterflies in my belly from just thinking about it. Or maybe it is belly rabbits. I like the concept of belly rabbit punches more so that is what I decided I feel right now. For the one who doesn’t know about belly rabbit punches, it’s the feeling you get in your belly when you feel so excited about something that you feel all warm and tingly in your belly. And my belly is punched by all the cutest little rabbits right now. 

Sleepy and a tad hungover from yesterday, the time just flies by and we need to get going again. If you think you’d get home from the bar, go to sleep and then wake up and be able to do things during the day before going to the next event when you’re on tour, you’re sorely mistaken. It’s just not possible. You need all the time you can get to rest during the day to show off the best you during the night. We’re straight up from bed to the show at Indra. It’s a 50’s Rock ‘n’ Roll show and everyone there is dressed like they stepped right out of the TV screen of a recording of an Elvis show. The girls are  wearing dresses with the typical iconic make-up you’d see on Marilyn Monroe. And they’re all velvet red lips and big hair. The guys have their combs ready to time and time again fixate their big hairs into perfection. The understaffed bartenders stress behind the long bar to serve the thirsty 50’s crowd and many of them are ordering cocktails while the poor barstaff are probably just asking, ‘Why can’t they just order beer?’ There’s people swingdancing in front of the stage, where the band is nowhere to be seen, and I can’t help wanting to join them. It looks fun. It’s a scene taken straight from the 50’s. Maybe I am in an alternative universe together with everyone who thinks they belong in Grease? We’ll never know.

We say hello to Sam who is busy behind the bar serving everyone drinks, and retire to wait for the band to start. It looks like we’ll have time to catch the first couple of songs before leaving to go play our own show. Everything is timed to perfection and the band will be out any minute now. Any minute now. Did you hear me, I said any minute now. Apparently not. Five minutes after showtime. Ten minutes, 20 minutes, 30 minutes. Any minute now. No. The clock just ticks by and we start to feel itchy as we need to get going to play our own show. Finally we give in and go to the cloakroom to collect our jackets. The band still hasn’t started. But just as we’re gathering our things, the band comes on. Finally. We can catch one song at least, and then we’ll leave for our own show. The band is surprisingly ill fitting to the crowd. Everyone is dressed modern with T-shirts and they look more like they’re going to chill with friends on a Tuesday morning and hadn’t bothered to dress nicely for it than that they’re about to play a 50’s Rock ‘n’ Roll show. But the music is really good. They even have a double bass which is played with great enthusiasm. That’s so cool. I’ve never even seen a double bass before. The song is short and the crowd goes crazy as it finishes. We, on the other hand, go the other direction and leave to some very surprised faces. The girl at the entry inquires as to why is the world we would pay 12 euro to see a show and leave after the first song to which we’re able to answer in a cool fashion. ‘We were on the guestlist. We need to go play our own show now. We’ll be back later.’ 

We collect our gear from our room and walk the ridiculously long distance of all the way down the stairs to our own gig. We’re a little underwhelmed to find that there are just a few dining guests scattered around the place. Nothing we can do about that. Maybe it will fill up later. We get on with it and set up in the window this time with the thought that it might help to bring people in the door. So we start and we go for our calmer songs, because the people sitting here just look like they want to enjoy their meal. That’s fine, my voice isn’t in that good shape today so I don’t want to give everything until we get a bit more of a crowd. But we’re not getting a bit more of a crowd. One couple after the next, the people finish their meals and leave. Leaving us to play to a not so happy bar staff. It’s depressing. It really is. So we turn around and play out for the street trying to get people in, but there’s almost no-one walking around. How can that be? Everyone around here seems to be wanting to go to the nightclubs. But even as we look across the road at Beatlesplatz, there’s hardly anyone walking by there either. We have a moment of hope when this one big group of people that stops by the window and we play them an upbeat song in an attempt to get them in the venue, and they are really digging it. They’re dancing to the music, and the lads seem to love it. We can see some lively discussion as they debate whether to enter the building or not, but they reach the conclusion not to, to the disappointment of some that gesture strongly and encouragingly to us. I feel my heart sink, this does not look good. Playing to an empty bar. Soon afterwards we pack up, get a beer each on the house and drink it to the hollow feeling of a completely flat gig. 

Well, not every gig is a success. According to a few stories we’ve heard this week, even the Beatles played to empty venues around here at times.

But what we do have is the experience of playing a gig that fell flat now. Honestly I think I did some of the best voice work I’ve done so far, and we’ve had the experience of using our gear and playing for real. Maybe the bar staff enjoyed us? They were at least really encouraging and nice to us.

What we also have is the fact that we played a gig. So we can go back to Indra after having done it, and enjoy the evening where people know that we’re performing musicians even if they haven’t gotten the chance to see us yet. I mean, we just played a gig, and they were there watching someone else. So that is what we do. Tonight was a success, there just weren’t that many people there. So we’ll take that, and go and show our good side at Indra. I mean, we’re on the guestlist for a reason. 

At Indra the show is over and the crowd is now getting down to dancing and drinking. We sit down at the bar, say hello to Sam, buy some beers and chat to each other and the people around. Sam keeps us going with free shots and it feels really nice to just be here and decompress after the gig. During chatting with Sam, he tells us that the bars he’s involved with that we could play at are either fully booked or won’t be having live music for a while longer yet, so we’re just in Hamburg a little too early for him. But he does say that we would love to hear from us before we come next time so that something could be arranged.

Turning my attention away from the bar, I suddenly find I’m sitting next to the singer of tonight’s band and he starts talking with me. I’m not sure why. Maybe he thinks I’m just pretty or maybe he knows I’m a rockstar on tour in Hamburg having played her own show tonight. I never get to know, because he is just too drunk to make any sense of. Changing seats to the other side of the bar, we’re not in that much more luck. But at least it is amusing. There is this guy that starts talking to us and he totally hits on me so obviously that Mark goes and stands in between us. Then Mark starts to tell him all kinds of embarrassing stories just to make him feel uncomfortable, with which he succeeds. Mark gets all attentive on me, telling me he doesn’t want to leave me alone with that guy so he stays close to me the rest of the night. We even go to the toilet together so no-one will get a chance to hit on me. It feels safe that he does that for me, especially since we’re alone in Hamburg not knowing anyone. And we know that I seem to attract all kinds of guys, and that can be very scary at times. 

Mark:

On the face of it, tonight could be seen as having fallen a bit flat. But really, it signifies a triumph and a real breakthrough. Everything suddenly looks different now. We might not be playing any shows with Sam or his friends, but he couldn’t have been any more positive and he really does think there could be something for us next time round. With that, we feel like we’ve established our Hamburg base, or at least a potential one. With Lenny in Berlin, we have our potential Berlin base. This basically means we now have very real toeholds in the two main entertainment cities of Germany. And with Germany being the leading musical territory of Europe, we may well have created our own set of keys for unlocking the gates to the whole continent. And we came to both cities not knowing a single person. We’ve done this through sheer footwork, determination and personality. And we still have Ireland and London to explore.

The Hamburg Diary, days eight and nine

Day eight

Sunday March 6


Nothing today. Nothing nothing. It’s been a major major week with major major results. We give ourselves today off. Totally. 

It’s a great day for sleeping and watching movies, sometimes at the same time. Everywhere is closed anyway.

Day nine

Monday March 7

Maja:

I am not great today. My health is a little bit frail I would say. I’ve always been very prone to catching colds and when I get sick I get very sick. If my mum got the sniffles from a cold, I would be out with a high fever for two weeks. It would always be like that, so I am a bit afraid of getting sick. I do my best at keeping myself well, and today I feel like if I don’t stay in bed I might feel worse. So in bed I stay. I have a gig today that I want to be able to do. Or at least I think I have a gig. 

Mark:

Maja’s not feeling the best today and Mondays aren’t the best days for hustling anyway, with most managers treating them as their Saturdays or Sundays after their busy weekends. We just pretty much continue where we left off Sunday until around 6 when I decide to take myself off on a mini hustle and to see what’s going on. We’ve not heard from Sven of Cowboy Und Indianer so I also want to go and see if there’s anything happening there. I have his number, but I’m heading out anyway so I might as well swing by. If we’re on, Maja will come out and play. If not, she’ll take that. I’m thinking not, otherwise we would have heard something by now, and yep, that is the case. Oh well. I still have his number and he has mine, so let’s see.

Right next to Cowboy Und Indianer I discover a bar called Lehmitz that hasn’t been open the whole time we’ve been here and they have live music advertised. I go in and am told there’s a guy I should speak to who’ll be here in an hour. Cool.

I now check and see The Irish Rover is closed until Thursday. But I still want to go and have a look at it and check out the area it’s in. Besides, I’m out anyway and really want to carry on with having a walk out somewhere.

The Irish Rover is just inside the very clearly geographically demarcated zone that designates the city centre; a ring road encircles it, and it is also buttressed by parks and waterways. The area I’ve come to see is indeed something of a social oasis within a city centre which is overwhelmingly a commercial entity. There aren’t any other potential venues for us here, but what we have is a wonderful large open plaza type area with restaurants cafes and bars dotted around its perimeter. At the apex of all this heading into the city centre is The Irish Rover. Cool. We will return. Now it’s time to return to Lehmitz, the bar I was in earlier. 

I enter and this time meet the Nick I was told to come back and talk to. Like so many other people, he talks about the three hour concept, to which once more I reply in variations of, ‘not our thing.’ When I tell him we’re on tour he’s impressed and thinks we could possibly do something on Thursday but he’ll need to speak to someone else here called Arthur to check that out and hopefully confirm. Oh well. Sometimes it goes like that. OK. Fine. Still, another possible place. I’ll take that for a Monday walk. 

The Hamburg Diary, days 10 and 11

Day 10

Tuesday March 8

Mark:

The huge Brauerei bar at the near end of the strip has been open for its first weekend. When we went in last week, Simon, the manager, said it could be a goer, but he wanted to see how their first weekend looked. Well, it’s looked good whenever we’ve walked past, so we think now would be a good time for a revisit. Tonight’s also a good night for burgers and beer, so where better to do that?

As we’re finishing up, the place has quietened down and Simon is sitting with a few friends so I go over, say hi and ask where he is. He immediately says, ‘Oh, thanks for dropping back in. You can play tomorrow if you like.’ Wow. Just like that. Isn’t it nice when these things just work?

Job done there, we head right down to the other end of the strip and into Lehmitz where we manage to get hold of Arthur. He seems very impressed when we say we’re playing the Brauerei and says we can play in here on Thursday.  Just drop by tomorrow and we’ll get the times sorted out, he says. Wow. OK. From here we go next door where we’re greeted with hugs by Sven. Pint in here, then as we’re getting ready to leave, he comes over and drops two more pints on our table. Once again, we really could get used to all this.

Day 11

Wednesday March 9

Mark:

Things have been going pretty well and we have a show tonight in the biggest bar in town. So we don’t feel under any pressure to do anything. Instead, we just take it easy to give ourselves the best chance to be fresh for when it matters. Nothing exists in our minds today but playing tonight and making sure that goes as well as it can.

Evening comes up and before leaving to play our gig we have to go and see Arthur to confirm tomorrow and find out exactly when it’s happening. We get to Lehmitz and Arthur’s nowhere around and nowhen knows where he is or when he’ll be here. It’s suggested that we wait for a while but we have somewhere to be. Sven’s in here having a quiet drink and we go and say hi. He’s friendly but clearly exhausted and in no state to really talk or discuss gigging possibilities with his bar. No worries. We say our goodbyes and head off to pick up our gear and get ourselves down to The Brauerei. We walk in and leave our gear by the stage area and then go off to find Sami and let him know we’re here. As soon as we see him walking towards us, his face says that something isn’t quite right. Correct. As soon as he reaches us he says, ‘Guys, I’m really sorry but I spoke to the boss and he said he didn’t want music in here at all.’ What now? Fine. Not really, but fine. He continues to apologise, saying he took it on himself to make the decision because he was convinced it would be OK. He feels terrible, he says. But now we’re here, and let down, he offers us a couple of rounds of drinks on the house. Can’t say no to that. Might as well. Once he’s organised that for us, he comes and hangs out and he’s really cool to talk to and it’s clear he’s all about making music live. I have the thought that maybe next time we’re in town things may be different for him so, as well has having email for this bar, maybe we should have his personal email so we can get in touch with him wherever he happens to be. He’s well up for that so great. Tonight might have been blown out but we feel this is a really positive Hamburg contact to have in the pocket. 

Once we’re done here, we slightly dejectedly take our gear back to the hotel and then go and take a walk down to the far end of the strip, but to an area we haven’t looked at before; it’s looked a bit posh and a theatre land kind of place so we’ve never thought it looked like a place to explore. But as we walk past the theatres, we see a bar with a chalkboard up promoting live music tonight. Standing right outside as a greeter and Covid pass checker is a girl who introduces herself to us as Leah. We ask what’s going on and she says it’s a solo cover act. Oh. OK. We explain what’s just happened to us and ask if we might be able to play in here tonight, maybe when the guy takes a break. She’s really positive about this and says that yes, we should definitely ask. She then tells us that all the staff here have heard all kinds of stories about the management of The Brauerei. OK. So this mean spiritedness we’ve experienced tonight sounds about par for the course. Good to know. 

We settle down in the venue as tonight’s performer, Orla, continues his set. When he finishes for his break, we tell him about our conversation with Leah, and that our show was cancelled tonight and ask if it would be OK for us to play during his break. He doesn’t have a problem with that at all and gladly helps us to set up. Brilliant. So we get all that organised and, as soon as we’re ready, introduce ourselves to the slightly bemused audience as a touring act. We then launch into a two song set of I Like You (Better When You’re Naked) and Rock’n’roll Tree. And with this, we’ve added a date to our tour schedule and introduced ourselves to another audience. A very roundabout way of operating, but we can now tick off job done for tonight. To be fair, this very quick impromptu, totally unexpected show is not without its sound issues, but the response from the audience is emphatic so we’ll take that.

We thank Orla and take our seats again, and then Leah comes up to congratulate us and to tell us of her own regular event in here which is coming up again on Sunday. She’s a songwriter herself, but says that audiences around here prefer cover songs so that’s what she does. Which means that her thing is kind of an open mic, but is really more an acoustic cover show which invites people up to sing, so kind of like a live acoustic karaoke with space for acts like ourselves. Wonderful. Consider us sold. We’ll see you there.

The Hamburg Diary, days 12 and 13

Day 12

Thursday March 10

Mark:

Our hustle target for today is The Irish Rover and Fleet Und Keiker, two venues that were mentioned to us by Sam at Indra. We take a walk out towards the city centre. Approaching The Irish Rover, we see a guy standing outside who we say hi to and quickly establish that he is the manager. He’s interested to hear our story and, as we continue, he becomes more and more animated and interested. By the time we’ve finished, he’s decided he’d love to give us a chance to play over this weekend and says we should maybe drop by later to confirm details. Wow. Brilliant. Thankyou very much. We resume our walk.

We arrive at the Fleet Und Keiker sometime mid to late afternoon. This is normally an ideal time to try to catch a bar in a quiet period and to be able to chat to a bar manager, but we’re discovering that this is a waking up holiday city and the concept of ‘normal ideal times’ means nothing here. The place is packed and the greeter seems seriously harassed. He suggests we return tomorrow sometime mid afternoon. We thank him for his time and leave him to frantically get on with it.

If we can catch someone at the right time, this looks like it really could be a good place for us. It’s an Irish bar welcoming Irish musicians, and is kind of a cellar bar accessed down a bunch of roughly cut, ancient looking stone stairs. And the interior appears similarly anciently appointed. Among the posters, well kept behind glass adorning the walls of the stairs is one celebrating the pubs of Cork, all arranged in a pint glass formation. Oh this is a trip down memory lane. All my old favourites are there, including Fred Zeppelins which is where I used to run an open mic night. I really thought the presence of such a poster, along with my own correlating experiences would have been something of a conversation starter, but no way. Not right now.

Before he disappears into the chaos, our greeter friend is kind enough to refer us to Paddys, an Irish bar very nearby. So we head down there to see if there could be anything going. Oh dear. The place looks lovely, but tiny. Not for us. Back to the Irish Rover it is. Ralph is still there just outside the door. We’re thinking of dropping in for a drink but the quiz, that was on when we passed by earlier, is still going and he tells us there’s not a seat to be had in the place. He also tell us that he was really thinking of putting us on tomorrow but he’s had a look round and discovered he can’t get enough staff to open the downstairs bar that he was hoping to put us in. Still, a very positive contact and this is definitely a place to mark and return to next time.

Back to drinks at the hotel bar, which leads to thoughts about what we’ve done here in Hamburg. We didn’t get exactly what we wanted in terms of stage time, but what we have got what we didn’t realise we actually needed; we’ve made so many contacts for the next time we’re in town. Just like we did in Berlin. Pitched against that criteria, our stay here, which has for much of the time threatened to be quite underwhelming, suddenly looks like an enormous success.

Day 13

Friday March 11

Mark:

We make it Fleet Und Keiker by 4pm but are totally taken aback by how busy it is again. Nowhere near as much as yesterday, but still. We settle in for a drink and, when a small opportunity opens, I go and introduce myself to the owner. Although clearly busy, he is interested to take the time to listen as I talk about us, and has a few questions, such as how long we’re around and the like. Well, we’re leaving Tuesday so we really don’t have much of a window. He says he has nothing at such short notice, but would be interested to hear from us when we return. Wonderful. The theme from last night continues.

Now it’s off for fish and chips in The Irish Rover which is quite simply one of the best fish and chips I’ve ever had. Ralph makes an appearance just as we’re leaving and we have a little hello with him, but we also get to meet quite a few of the bar staff, one or two of whom are from Ireland. Cards get passed around and, in all, we feel we really get to make quite a bit of a presence in here.

When we get back to our hotel, we discover the atmosphere is significantly more upbeat than it has been for our entire time here. An entire German stag party has descended upon us. And a very joyful and welcome diversion it is. A group of around ten guys are in our bar just heading out when we arrive and they hang around for a little longer as we all make our introductions to each other.

Maja:

The adorable stag night guys. Absolutely adorable. They felt so incredibly missplaced in an area of sex and rock n roll, such as the Reeperbahn actually is. As we talk to them, I just feel like we have to give them a little show, welcoming them to the place they actually are at. Keizbude on the Reeperbahn in Hamburg. So Mark gets the guitar, and I stand up on the bar, totally owning the space giving them a private performance of I Like You (Better When You’re Naked). They love it. 

As soon as we finish, they ask if we have any ideas of where they could go for their stag night, which is an odd question. If you just go out to the Reeperbahn, you’ll find so many places to go to. I recommend a transvestite burlesque bar that someone tried to get me and Mark to go to, but we never went. It’s way more fitting for a stag night than it is for two musicians just wanting to play gigs.

The Hamburg Diary, Day 14

Day 14

Saturday March 12

Mark:

A huge walk today as we simply take in the environs of Hamburg without any of the pressure of the hustle. Just a lovely walk with no ulterior motive. Oh that feels nice. And the sun is shining. We stroll down to the docks and walk along them all the way into the heart of the city, along the way stopping for crepes which we lazily consume while sitting at the water’s edge, contemplating the endless shipping and general docklife activity. 

Then up and away we go again, meandering through the crowds in a careless promenade. Reaching the far end of the docks and we come across a bridge and high walkway leading into the city centre. Why not? That takes us into the main shopping districts and back out to the lake before we start to think about maybe dropping in for a quiet drink somewhere. Maybe Paddys, the lovely, small Irish bar we came across a few days ago. We picture ourselves hanging out at the bar, chatting cosily to the regulars and bar staff and generally introducing ourselves to the scene a little more. When we catch sight of the place, we immediately realise none of that is going to happen. International rugby is on, and it’s England v Ireland in the six nations no less. One of the biggest matches in the calendar. So no. There’s going to be no quiet cosiness happening in here today. Oh well.

Back to the hotel for drinks it is, and the lads are there again so another lively hangout with them as we hear about their own assorted adventures on the Reeperbahn last night. We take it easy because we’re planning on something of a late night tonight. We want to go to Indra, arriving after the show there to maybe talk to Sam, tell him about the things we’re doing and see if any kind of tentative groundwork can be laid for a return visit. Apart from anything else, we think it would be good to catch him properly once more before we return home to Ireland.

When we get there, the place is every bit as quiet as we thought it would be and Sam once more welcomes us joyously. We are very warmly welcomed into the company of the bar and introduced to the off duty bar staff who are enjoying an afterwork drink. And some of Sam’s good friends are in and we meet and chat with them as well. It all feels like we’re among something of a secret Hamburg club, far away from the madness of clubland. A place where we can talk social and business, and generally continue our introduction to Germany and Europe. Given the connections Sam and his friends have to venues all over the place with their general live music business interests, this place really does seem like something of a gateway to Hamburg. And with Berlin and Hamburg being pretty much the central areas for music in Germany and Germany being something of a music centre for Europe, right here right now really is one of the best places we can possibly be.

It’s all rather wonderful and the guys are asking all kinds of interesting questions about us and our music. We talk to them a little about our story and they’re enraptured. We tell them of shows we’ve done in Berlin and Hamburg, and about plans we have for playing Ireland and America, and they lap it all up. Then, almost inevitably, they want to hear some music. We have something of a rough studio production of I Like You Better (When You’re Naked) but nothing with really high production values. But by now they’re so invested in the story they want to hear what we have. OK. Let’s have a listen. Sam is very keen to get this on and finally hear what we sound like, so he follows our instructions to the link and the song itself. He hits play and out it comes. Now, this song has elicited some of the strongest reactions I’ve ever seen to any original song in a bar environment. In The Trap in our first ever show, it was demanded as an encore after we’d first played it as our second song of the night. A few people told us it was the best song they’d heard in years, and a friend with some kind of links to the music business offered to buy it off us. Although yeah. I’m still not entirely convinced he was joking. At songwriter events, it has routinely been met by the biggest audience reaction of the night. And in all kinds of settings, we’ve had people come up to us out of nowhere and sing parts of it out to us. In short, it’s fair to say it’s a keeper. But as soon as it comes on here, as a cold, raw studio recording in a huge room, especially when coming on just after the full, classic, studio productions of high octane supergroup classics we’ve been listening to. it does admittedly sound just a little bit flat and quiet. And empty, being just acoustic guitar and vocal and nothing else. But still, all the joyous energy of the performances are still there, and a song is a song right? Wrong. I’ve actually known this as a fact for sometime, and have been advised on it when even thinking of pitching a song to industry professionals; don’t think people can hear the song shine out in its raw form. For most people, unless the full production is there, they have no idea what they’re listening to and this goes right to the top. Right now the production isn’t there, but we still think it sounds wonderful and fun and we dance joyously around the room as we hear it for the first time on enormous speakers, even as we know its sound doesn’t even begin to touch the huge budget productions we’ve been listening to all night. As soon as the song comes to a close and we return to the bar, it’s clear that our new friends only heard the production, or maybe didn’t really hear the song at all, or just didn’t like it. It wasn’t for them. Fair enough and absolutely, no harm and no hard feelings. Surprising and a little disappointing maybe, but in any creative endeavour you have to accept not everyone is going to like what you do, and that goes for every piece of music ever recorded, no matter how successful or universally lauded. What we’re not prepared for is what happens next. We simply cease to exist. The guys form a huddle and start talking – inexplicably still in English – about the most benign things imaginable. Like talking for the sake of talking. Not one person acknowledges our presence as all we can see is backs. I look at Maja and then back at people who, until just a few moments ago, we considered nascent friends. Now, because they didn’t quite connect with our song, we’re dismissed and totally judged as people they simply don’t want to know, or wish to be associated with. ‘This is ridiculous,’ I whisper to Maja. ‘So they didn’t like it, or maybe it didn’t sound great in here. Fair enough. But this?’ No. This is wrong. ‘I think we should just leave,’ I say. ‘Let’s just walk out the door right now and never come back.’ So that’s what we do. Without a glance behind us, without a word of thanks or goodbye, or any other kind of acknowledgement to our hosts, we slip silently out of the door and into the cold, but far more warmly inviting night. What. The. Hell. Was. That?

Maja:

I can’t understand what just happened. Absolutely not. But what I do understand is that no-one will accept a song they hear on speakers without a full production. But still, the behaviour they showed us is beyond unacceptable. I am angry. As we go outside I shake away the anger and let it be replaced with a feeling of ridicule. It’s too ridiculous not to laugh about. And I am utterly confident in our music, and I know that we’ll go all the way, so to ridiculous act like this. Well. At least it makes a fun story.

The Hamburg Diary, days 15 and 16

Day 15

Sunday March 13

Mark:

I wake up with a horrible feeling as thoughts of last night flood in along with the morning sun. I’m still hurt and insulted. And massively disappointed that our friendly ally could have revealed himself as such a superficial fake and turned on us like that. As we progress into the morning and debrief and digest what happened, we start to think that, apart from the fact that maybe we arrived Hamburg a little too early as it emerged from Covid restrictions, it really is essentially a coverbar/nightclubbing town and not worth coming back to for any kind of development. Apart from Tommy, not one person who said we could do something with them has come through. Not even, massively disappointingly, Sven – I might just give him a pass and say his intentions were pure and genuine but maybe there were too many other things going on for us to get full consideration. I mean, the guy gave us hugs and free drinks everytime we walked into his bar. But just like here, in so many other places also we’ve encountered so much huge and encouraging enthusiasm on the surface, giving us so much optimism, and none of it has ever translated into anything tangible. Not one person acted on it. Not one phone call or email. Not even when people promised to call back within an hour or two. And then last night just topped it off as Sam got written off. As the morning progresses we kinda get over it but no, we don’t really want to talk about it with each other. We silently agree to just forgot about those guys and move on. As we do, we agree we ain’t coming back to Hamburg until we’re playing the proper big places. And no. Sam will not be on the guest list.

Maja:

I can’t believe it either. Hurt is an underestimation. I loved the inclusive feeling we used to have at Sam’s, but after getting that kind of response, there’s no going back. After giving our everything to our art, I think we can be entitled enough to give our attention to people who actually believe in us. Sorry Hamburg. I’m starting to feel done with you.

Mark:

As we work into the day and start to feel active, we take the 40 or so minute walk out of the city to pick up the car and bring it back to the carpark near the hotel. It is now ready and waiting for our departure.

Then it’s chill time before we get ready to go out and play the last show of our European adventure. This is Leah’s open mic event at the Alt Liebe, the venue we played last minute on Thursday after our show at The Brauerei was cancelled. We get there and discover it isn’t an open mic as such as it is an acoustic cover show at which members of the audience can get up and do their thing. Which is normally sing a cover song or two with live backing. So, essentially a live acoustic karaoke with open-ness for other elements. Into which we fit. Leah plays pretty much the first half of the evening herself, then the floor opens up a little more in the second part of it all. During all this we get talking to a girl sitting next to us called Lulika who can’t get her head around being able to get up on stage, let alone the concept of doing it, or trying to do it in any professional capacity. In our chat she agrees to film us when our turn comes. When we get around to that, we’ve decided our two songs will be My Game My Rules and Six Sense Lover. Up we go and we tear into both of them.

Maja:

I get up on stage and as soon as I sing the first note I realise. I can’t hear myself at all. My heart drops like a stone but I go for it anyway. It seems like the audience can hear me so that’s something at least. But it just feels terrible. It’s really hard to perform but I can’t even be bothered to care about it. I just go for it. Even if it’s terrible, I gave it a proper shot.

Mark:

The reaction is promising and pretty cool, but it’s clear this crowd does go more for the covers, as they rave and cheer and whoop for that kind of thing when the singers get up. Fine. And they do give us a fair chance so that’s all cool. But there’s something about our performance that, after the event, makes us think we played far too fast and really didn’t do ourselves justice. Last night of the whole tour and we’re a little bit down with ourselves. But we have a recording. When we get back to the hotel, the first thing we do is listen to it. Oh. Oh. Oh. Wow. Really not bad at all.Would we put it up? Maybe, maybe not. But not anywhere near the trainwreck we really feared we’d delivered and certainly not too frenetically fast. Maybe a touch on the faster side, but not too fast. You learn and learn and learn. In the moment stage and live perception can often be so different to reality. But normally it’s the other way round to what we’re experiencing here; you think you’ve done a bang up show, everyone cheered and everyone’s patting you on the back and you think you knocked it out of the park. Then the next day you listen to it and you want to burn the tape. That is, if these things were still on tape. Here, we were convinced we’d delivered a disastrous mess but what we have is not just listenable, we realise it was actually really good. We’re stunned. With that, we really start to decompress, especially as we’ve been slightly tightly wound ever since we got off stage. Although we did all the right things afterwards, said thankyou at the right times and smiled all our smiles as though everything had gone exactly as we’d planned it to, inside we felt just that little bit deflated. Well, now we realise it actually had all gone as planned. And with that, ladies and gentlemen, we have concluded. Tour is done, lessons have been learned, and now with this new recording we can see and feel that our level really has gone up and up and up. We’re going to leave that there for now, get back to Ireland, shake all this off, and then start to put ourselves back together again musically with all we’ve learned and all we’ve developed since hitting the road in Berlin that first night back in the first few days of December at heavy metal bar Brette Bude. Oh damn, we really have not done this the easy way.

Maja:

Is there a easy way? I think we’re doing it the only way it can ever be done.

Day 16

Monday March 14

Mark:

We stay in all day today. A bit of writing in the bar, and also a little movie watching. But overall a total chill. And why not? All our hustling and playing is done. We’ve seen the city plenty and, above everything, we have a big travelling day tomorrow with Maja contemplating an epic drive. And the next day. This is going to take two days as we drive through Germany, Belgium and France, then an overnight ferry to Rosslare, right on the south east corner of Ireland, before driving through the countryside to home.

Maja:

After all that, I really think we need a sleepy day. Sleepy sleepy day. To sleepy sleep sleep.

And yes. I speak like that.

The Hamburg Diary, days 17 and 18

Day 17

Tuesday March 15

Mark:

Three countries today as we leave at midday and slowly pull out of Hamburg, getting a wonderful look at this enormous European port city with much of the road away from it and to the south winding a way up and around it all as we find ourselves in among cranes, ships and sea. And industry. So so much industry.

Then the open road as we drive through the slowly changing landscape crossing from Germany to Belgium, all the way through Belgium then into France, arriving at our motel sometime between 10pm and midnight. It’s a wonderful place. A perfect little double room with a shower that just feels like heaven. Next stop breakfast which we’re delighted to have included in our micro stay.

Maja:

I am glad that I like to drive since there’s a lot of driving to be done. I love watching the beautiful scenery flashing by. And I also think it’s so cool that the scenery keeps changing as you change countries. Germany with it’s deep forests doesn’t quite look the same as Belgium, and there’s an even bigger difference entering France, which offers stunning views of open fields. And with Mark talking about this, that and the other, it’s easy to keep entertained. 

Day 18

Wednesday March 16

Mark:

Up early for breakfast to get on the road in good time for the ferry. Yes, this is going to set us up well and it’s with some anticipation that we make our way to the dining area. We walk into a small, very quiet and clean cafe type environment and they’ve got all the little things you might expect in a few containers on the right as you walk in. Bread rolls, mini baguettes, cake, yep, actual cake, and the butters and jams and things. Then a little fridge containing yoghurt and juice. And tea available of course. And then… and then…we look around to see where the actual breakfast is, accepting far too slowly and reluctantly that this really is it. A few containers of cold bready/cakey things. And yoghurt. We laugh into our disappointment, accept it, fill up on as much of this as we can, and then hit the road again. To be fair, I thought the cake was quite nice.

On the way, I realise with some excitement that we’re in the Normandy region and are going to be driving fairly close to the D-Day beaches. As we progress and I start to see the map a little better, my excitement really rises as I realise we’re going to be driving within just a few miles of Omaha beach. Oh we have to. We just have to. We’ve had thoughts of a nice French restaurant dinner somewhere on the way, but we’re about to smash into those plans with a spectacular history trip to one of the most iconic battlefields of World War II. We find the car park in the shadow of the monument to what happened here. Directly underneath it we leave our shoes and socks and walk the whole way to the edge of the sea and ever so slightly into it. Then we turn and recreate the steps of the men who stormed this beach in 1944, marvelling in terrifying awe at the huge expanse they had to somehow negotiate to have any chance of making it to anything even remotely tentatively resembling safety. It’s actually an uncomfortable walk with the sand being very solidly packed and deeply ridged. If it was anything like that on that day, then the almost impossible task they faced now appears even harder. Back to our shoes and socks and we have a look around the rest of the area, including the museum which we don’t go into – we really don’t have time for that, but there’s plenty of hardware out front and back to take in. Including an actual landing craft and a huge World War I field gun turret. It’s grey and raining and a little cold and time to get going again anyway. But now, out of nowhere, we’ve had a trip to Omaha beach. Next stop, ferry on which, for the first time of all our sea trips, we have a cabin.

Or so we think. We have a short pitstop at a service station where Maja receives an email. The ferry has been cancelled. No idea why. There’s some rigmarole, during which for a while it looks like we might not even be able to travel until sometime next week. But then the company manages to put us on a replacement. Or something like that. Although we now have no cabin. Again. Damn. We just can’t catch a break with these things. OK, so on we go and we need to find somewhere comfortable enough to spend the night. And this is no silent ship like the last one we had on the way to Hamburg from Sweden. No, this one is full of other people who were bumped from the cancelled ferry and plenty of people who had a cabin but now don’t. We find ourselves in mutual consolation with a few of these people in a large dining type room at the front of the ship. With our guitar. After a while, a few people start to ask if we could play a tune or two, but we know they’re looking for songs they know. A bit of a sing song and the like. We decline, saying we only play our own songs. But as the ship leaves port and we all settle into the rhythm of the sea, a few people gently start to ask again. Among them are a group of six or seven guys from Cork, and a father and daughter sitting very close to us on a long couch type thing we’re sharing. When we insist they really won’t know anything that we’ve got, they say that’s fine, so we shrug and we’re like, OK. Might as well. There are a few other people dotted around this area and they look up with some mild interest as we get the guitar out and set ourselves up.

Maja:

As soon as I set foot on the ferry, it’s like the air changes. It’s so obvious to me, like I could touch it. Almost like a taste on my lips. A taste of freedom. A taste of warmth and welcomeness. It’s the people. Everyone around me is so friendly. They speak with laughter in their voices. With kindness. Even though a lot of the people on this ferry are very disappointed that the ferry they were supposed to travel on got cancelled, the feeling of happiness is larger than anything. I think I’d describe it as jolly. And once again I think to myself. I love Ireland.

Mark:

It can sometimes be a songwriter thing to ask if people want a fast of a slow song. When I’ve been in an audience I don’t think I’ve ever asked for a slow one. I’m surprised when that’s the consensus here. Oh. OK. So we settle wonderfully into Insanity. 

Immediately they’re with us and a few raised eyebrows show that a few people are thinking, Oh, we might just have something here. We finish to enthusiastic applause and requests for more, and let’s go fast now. So we do. We’re off now. By our second song they’re just into it and the people dotted around our section have started to move closer. A few of the staff have now stopped what they’re doing and the people in the bar area are now looking over here with some considerable interest. We finish the second and our small original group, especially the guys from Cork are saying, ‘You guys are not stopping anytime soon.’ Wow. Songs they’ve never heard before, and they are really, truly, into it. The boat is really rocking now. No. Really. The sea has picked up underneath us and is picking the ship up with it and as we sway to our own music, we almost lose our balance a few times. As Maja tries her standing on a chair performance, she’s having to have one foot on a table to stop herself from crashing to the floor and, at the first opportunity, abandons all thought of continuing to perform from up there. 

All this is adding to the drama and pure epicness of what’s going on right now and, by the third song we have an actual substantial audience as almost everyone in earshot is gathered loosely around us and all talk in the bar area has totally ceased, all eyes on what’s going on over here. We end up playing for 25 minutes to half an hour, finishing to a great reaction and genuine gratitude for what we’ve just unexpectedly brought onto the ship. We declare ourselves done and are met with, ‘We’ll let you take a short break.’ The guy who says it is only half joking, but people drift away and yes, we are done because, apart from anything else, 25 minutes to half an hour is generally a full show as far as we’re concerned. And this one has been the best show of the whole Hamburg experience and one of the most exhilarating and exciting shows of the whole tour. Still doesn’t quite top the incredible night of Laksmi and a Zum Krokidil performance or two are up there as well. But yes, this is one of the more memorable moments and it’s come out of absolutely nowhere. Thankyou for persuading us guys. It’s a perfect way to finish the tour which might not quite have taken in as much of Europe as we wanted, but which has concluded with us playing while travelling on the open water between France, the UK and Ireland. As a result, although this possibly isn’t totally geographically accurate, we’ve just instantly added three countries to the tour itinerary. So yes. Right at the very last we’ve managed to make it into an actual European tour.

The Third Ireland Diary, days 19 to 161

Day 19
Thursday March 17

Mark:

Oh I am not having fun this morning. The sea is really swelling and picking the ship up and down and I am really feeling it. All I can do is lie down on the kind of sofa bench we manage to make our own once we’re up and the actual bed is all packed away. Maja is up and about being social and attempting to introduce me to people but I’m sorry. I just can’t. If I lie down it’s kinda OK. But if I stand up, everything just seems to fall away beneath me. I don’t even feel like talking to the new friends I made yesterday. A passing nod if I see one of them when I go off on nature calls but that’s about it. Although there is quite a fun moment when one of them sings I Like You Better When You’re Naked at me as I pass him in the breakfast queue. Oh, did I just say breakfast? Sorry. No. Can’t. Oh, and now this. I really can’t believe this. Bizarrely, even just starting to write about the whole thing has caused something to psychosomatically happen and the world has ever so slightly started swimming and swaying again. I have to stop. Nope. Can’t even write about it.

On dry land and back in the car for the final leg of this epic journey, we start talking about what to do next. As we reflect, we start to conclude that the tour has really been a very elaborate dry run and the opportunity to develop ourselves as a live act. A great experience, but we don’t think wider Europe offers much for emerging bands. Where can you go? Scandinavia? No. Eastern Europe? Not really. France, Spain? No – and in particular here, I have intimate personal knowledge of Spain’s grass roots music scene. It does have one and it can be very good. The problem is, it doesn’t have an audience. Maybe Germany. Which really means Berlin, and we do feel we’ve created a toe hold there. After that, possibly Amsterdam, and maybe Prague.

Having done what we’ve done in the past few months, we now feel ready to begin to announce ourselves on the real marketplaces of emerging original music – Ireland and America. But really, more prominently for us, Ireland. Especially as it’s where we have our base so that automatically makes more sense. Of course, we do have America in the diary for late summer so that will take care of itself at the time. Until then, we decide we’re going to play as much as we can in Ireland and really try to get ourselves established there.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but today is March 17, which means we’re arriving back home in Ireland on St Patrick’s Day, and at a perfect time too. And it’s perfect for another quite bizarre and coincidental reason. It was a year ago today that we had the idea to write songs and tour the world and agreed that we would do just that. And here we are, exactly one year later, returning from our first international trip playing songs that have all been written by us since that day.

Maja:

It feels absolutely epic to return to Ireland today. Today is St. Patricks Day, which is well celebrated in Ireland. I’ve never been in Ireland during St. Patricks Day before, so I don’t really know what to expect. As we’re driving through the small villages we manage to catch the St. Particks Day Parade, which apperantly is a thing I am about to discover. The traffic slows down and we observe what looks like an whole village walking on the street, in funny vechicles, in trucks, drinking, being dressed amusingly in green. It’s marvelous. As a little truck drives by with a couple of lads dancing around on the back, I open the window to wave at them. And get squrited with a water gun. Thanks a lot.

I am over the moon that we got to catch the parade somewhere. A couple of hours later we reach home, and oh my gosh. I haven’t been home in too long. The unload the car and put the house in some order before we’re ready. We’re going to the Trap. To tell everyone we’re home!

As we reach the Trap, everyone is already drunk and most are home already. It seems like most drink at their non regular bar at this particular date so we don’t find a lot of people we know. But Angela who runs the bar gives us a big welcome home, and with that, we’ve landed in Ireland.

We’re back!

Friday March 18 to Monday Monday April 4

Let’s just cover this section of the return in one go. Over the week of arriving, a lot of rest happens, and then we slowly start to get the studio back together while also gently putting the house back in order as our mass of road equipment starts to get reassimilated. We’ve already decided that when we hit the road again, we’ll have less stuff than we’ve taken this time. A little more streamlined if you like. But for our first tour we did OK with what we took and not once did we find ourselves wishing we’d brought this or that. And we’ve learned a hell of a lot, not least that we can actually do this. That we can go into bars cold, get gigs, entertain and generate income. We also discovered that our level needed to come up a little more in terms of stage equipment, sound knowledge and in a few areas of actual performance. We bought and used the equipment, in the process gaining more experience of setting sound. And then during the enforced break in Sweden we really worked to up our performance game. Now we’re going to take a little time at home to rehearse in our Irish studio and pull up those few more performance levels we think we need. This will mean going deep and working on tiny percentages such as backing vocal placement. And with some of our increased vocal performance levels, quite a few of the songs now need to have a key change and these keys need to be discovered and practised.

During this practice, a new setlist starts to take shape as we start putting together what will become known as our smash set. This is to be a short 25 to 30 minute set of eight to ten songs, every one of which are just big. Which means no Insanity, Breakthrough, Wide Blue Yonder or even Smile Is Going Round, which has gone from a slightly up tempo pop tune to a gentle, insistent slow burn. With that change it regained its place in our affections and in the set as it was in danger of dropping out altogether. But it also means there’s no place for it right now. This short, intense set is designed to hold us up in the demanding, and frankly slightly hostile atmosphere of coverbar world where we intend to place ourselves. I’ve never seen anyone attempt this. Not on the scale we’re about to, going out there time and time again into such environments. But really, the theory here is that this is about taking ourselves directly to the end audience. To explain that, let’s take a look at this. First of all, and most simply, we think it will give us more gigs, or at least it will give us more venues to be able to take a run at. There aren’t a huge amount of venues for original acts, and even fewer for those making their first steps. Those bands tend to play quite sparsely, placing shows quite far apart to maximise audiences basically because there are only so many times in a given period even their more committed friends and family members will come out to see them. It can also be quite hard to get shows in the early days. You have to persuade a promoter to fit you somewhere on a bill, normally at the bottom of a three or four band evening. Then, if you do well, you can start to climb further up until you’re doing your own headline shows and then progressing with this to play bigger and bigger venues. That’s the hope anyway. I think you can already see that this is quite a time consuming process. The plus side is that on the way you’re playing to open minded audiences that want to get out and see new, emerging acts so they’re generally more eager and forgiving than your average bar crowd. But this audience is not huge. It also means that you’re not coming to the attention of the wider public at all. That doesn’t happen until you really get up in the atmosphere as a headline act playing pretty decent sized venues, hopefully with attendant press coverage, massively hopefully including some kind of TV or radio play. And believe me, looking at it from grassroots, this is a high bar to be aiming at with very few even attaining that level of success. But even then, for a band starting to show signs of breaking through, those early TV and radio slots will tend to be of the niche programming variety. So no. The general population won’t even be vaguely aware of you until you’re at least nibbling at the bottom rung of the fame game. What we’re doing is going straight to that end audience now. That means we have to able to grab them instantly and keep them grabbed.

Maja:

Right from the beginning we engineered the songs to captivate the toughest of audiences that wouldn’t always be open to listening to original music. So no singer songwriter vibe, no calm songs about heartbreak. Only short intense songs without too many instrumental breaks, with a lot of dynamics to keep people’s attention glued to us. And that’s also why we only play for 30 minutes in the kind of bars we’re playing now. People can’t keep their focus for much longer. They start to want to get back to talking to their friends, order a new pint and the music, however captivating, starts to overstay its welcome. That meant we needed to write about ten short intense, catchy songs of around three minutes each, and we needed to build an intensity of performance to keep the audience’s focus. There’s also no time for talk, because the audience doesn’t really want to listen to what you have to say. Get on with the music please. That is, if we even want you to get on with that.

So where we are now is that we need to get in there, present ourselves during setup, do our show swiftly and do the talking after the show, when people know what we’re about. The idea is that the people get to speak to us afterwards, when they are still in shock over how amazing our show just was. That way we don’t need to explain as much and it’s easier just to let them talk. We’ve already shown them that we’re rockstars, and they get the chance to take that in.

Mark:

This period now is about really consolidating ourselves and being able to put all the above into action, mixing in all the experience we gained from Germany. We settle on a set, selecting what we believe are our biggest songs. And as we do, we realise we’ve inadvertently written out the track listing for our first album. Oh. We have our first album. Which will be this set and some of our slower songs such as Insanity,

With that we’re ready to get to work. We put no pressure on ourselves. We’re going to be ready when we’re ready. We’re thinking two to three weeks to focus on rehearsal and then we’ll get back on the hustle trail as we start to take on Ireland. The idea now is to get all these up to standard, and then make one take, one track recordings of each one, to make what we call representation recordings. These will essentially be to show to prospective album producers so that they can get an idea of where we’re coming from, and they will also give us something to show to bars when looking for bookings.

And while we’re settling back into our small country town Irish life, people around here are starting to ask us when we’ll be playing in the local bar again. Almost every other time we’re out someone will ask. Even in the shops. And so many of these people we don’t even know. Yes, it does feel pretty good.

Day 38
Tuesday April 5

Mark:

Warm pitch to start today. From when we played on the ferry to Ireland from France we have a recommendation from a guy called Cockney. This is to a bar called Joseph McHughes in Liscannor, Co. Clare, about two hours drive away. Our plan from there is to drive to the nearby town of Lahinch and see if we can pick up a gig there, then we’re going to go have a look at Galway which I’ve always heard so much about as a live music centre and which everyone has been telling us we simply have to go to.

We find Joseph McHughes, a pub in a tiny area. Practically two pubs in a car park and that’s it for round here. In we go and we find the manager. We introduce ourselves and drop the name we have. ‘Oh yes, Cockney,’ she says. ‘He sent you here did he?’ Indeed he did. Saw us play on the ferry over. ‘Well, if you want to see how you go we could fit you in this Saturday.’ Oh wow. Straight in. Yeah we could do that. We chat times and come up with 9pm. Brilliant. That works.

Now we drive to Lahinch and have a look around for a bar that looks like it could work. We settle on a place called The Corner Post. Again, it’s a pretty quick pitch and the guy says we could do 10:30pm this Saturday which would work perfectly as he has a large party in that night. Fantastic. And just like that we have two gigs booked for Saturday. Now let’s try our luck in Galway.

No. Galway does not happen. It looks fantastic. Colourful and lively looking, so full of promise with, just like we’d been told so often. Bars offering live music on almost every corner, and on all the streets in between. And the lovely Eyre Squre in the centre surrounded by bars. Yes, there’s a lot of hustling to be done here. But we’re not far into it before we realise there could well be two problems with Galway. And the more we try our luck, the more our initial thoughts are confirmed. First, with it being such a tourist hub, and with music being one of its principle attractions, of course everywhere is booked. All. The Time. And with mostly the same people holding residencies in a given bar. Yeah. It soon becomes apparent the whole place is tied up by booking agents, who we’re encouraged to get in touch with. But for what? A two hour show? Chucking in covers and trad songs? That’s not our thing. There’s a strict model here and we just don’t fit into it. Second, we don’t get to speak to a single manager, so no decision makers. And even if there were, we very much get the impression they still would have referred us to their agent. We had such high hopes of Galway and we’ve turned up absolutely nothing. And after picking up two gigs so easily in tiny seaside towns.

On the way home, we conclude that has to be the way to go. Forget the so called famous music epicentres. We should be focusing on the midlands – the area of Ireland we live in – and the outer areas of the cities. As for the villages, hit them all. Even, or especially, the tiny ones. Maybe the managers there want music but don’t get pitched so much. We really think that’s a good idea for what we have, but oh, what a disappointment Galway has been.

Day 39
Wednesday April 6

Huge relief today as a result comes in we’ve been eagerly awaiting and dreading at the same time. Ed Sheeran wins his courtcase which he’s been fighting alongside his songwriting partners Steve Mac and Johnny McDaid.

If this means nothing to you, just let me say first, that this is huge, just huge for us. There have been a lot of concerning plagiarism cases recently, or at least it’s felt as though it’s proliferated recently and in a way, I actually kind of get it. Bear with me. I’ll come to that. But while there may be some genuine grievances in plagiarism cases, so many of the ones flying about around the current time are purely spurious and nothing more than shakedowns. People with no chance of doing anything for themselves trying to legally steal from those who’ve actually gone out and made it. It basically boils down to, I once used words, that songwriter is using words and made them into a big money making hit. Therefore he or she owes me money. I’m not even exaggerating that much. The Ed Sheeran case felt like a bit of a landmark moment. If he won, maybe this could set something of a precedent and signal the end of these kinds of pathetic, money grabbing, empty spurious claims. But if he lost. Oh man. If he lost. We really don’t want to think about it. It could have been the end of songwriting as we know it. As Ed said himself summing up the experience afterwards, 60’000 songs go up on one particular streaming service every day. I had to go back and check that. Yes. Every day. Which makes 22 million a year. And that’s just on one service. And all of these songs use the same 12 notes. If you’re reading all this Diary because you love your music but have no idea about how to go about making it or how it’s made, yes, there are just 12 notes available to us. That’s if you don’t count the notes in between that we generally don’t have but which are used in some eastern forms of music and I’m not counting them. Those 12 notes. A, Bb, B, C, C#, D, Eb, E, F, F#, G and G#. Yep. Taking away the eastern stuff which can sound a bit strange to us, going back centuries, or even millenia, every song, music score, piece of classical music and every single song on every single Beatles album, uses just these 12 notes and nothing more. Because there is nothing more. Again, as Ed said, coincidences are bound to happen. And yes, there is some imitation, homage and reference. But downright copying? Not as often as you might think. I mean, consider it. Really consider it. I write a song about my wonderful, magic football which I love very much. Try, if you can, to imagine the wonderfully unique melody that only I could possibly have come up with. ‘Maybe you’re gonna be the one that plays me/ Don’t call Saul/ You’re my wonderball.’ Now seriously, do you really think I’d be calling my friends to come round and hear my amazing new song and think they wouldn’t pick up on it? No. Outright copying, for the very most part, just does not happen. Songwriters are creators who want to create. Not copy something else and pretend it’s theirs. Alright, there are some bad actors out there, but for the most part, the people doing the bad acting are the ones accusing others of doing it and then trying to nick all their money.

Now we come to this. If Ed had lost, there’s no two ways about it. It would have been open season on songwriters and as close as dammit to finishing up our chances before we even got out of the gatefold. Anyone who ever had a hit ever, from this day on, would have had it stolen from them the second it got the tills ringing. Basically, the industry into which myself and Maja have set sail and are attempting to steam dead ahead into would have been all but destroyed. I don’t think it would have stopped us doing what we’re doing but I think we would have been living in state of denial that it was even a thing anymore to actually have a go at making something in there without having it stolen from you the second it actually became something. Believe me. The long long wait of a week or so from the conclusion of ‘evidence’ in this case to the actual judgement coming down was agonising.

I did say that I did get it didn’t I? Well this is that bit. We’ve said before that it’s never been easy to make it in music at any level and in any discipline. But to try to get anywhere now as an original act, I don’t think it’s ever been harder. So for those trying but never getting anywhere and not seeing how they can get anywhere. What can they do to shorten their odds of at least getting something out of this game? Try to take it from those who have it. Yeah, record companies have been doing that to artists forever, but now artists are doing it to each other. And so often, it’s done in the hope that the person being pursued just decides it’s not worth the hassle of defending and just settles out of court so that they can get on with their current album writing/recording, touring, or whatever else it is they’d rather be doing. In a lot of these cases it’s really nothing less than a good old fashioned shakedown, and I can’t help but think a lot of the ‘artists’ are put up to it by the music industry’s own take on ambulance chasing lawyers. No win, no fee. Hello. I’m calling about some chords you recently used. Is that right. Did you recently use chords? Er, yes. Great. I’ve just heard that someone else did. For no money up front, and just a split of the robbery, er, rights, I’ll get them to admit they used the same chords as you and give us the royalties. Great. Thanks. One further question. When you did these chords, did you also use words? Er, yeah. Wonderful. Open and shut case. We file tomorrow, and by the day after that, every songwriter in the world will wish they never bothered writing any songs in the first place. Because, well, if anyone with a pen and a musical instrument can ‘prove’ they didn’t actually write them without copying and can now take all their money, what’s the point anymore?

And that, my friends, is what Ed Sheeran, Steve Mac and Johnny McDaid have just saved us all from.

Day 40
Thursday April 7

We have so much in place. All we spoke about, all we had to do. We’ve moved countries – from England to Ireland. We’ve set up our house, with the studio. We’ve toured and learned what equipment was needed and bought it and learned how to use it. We’ve written our songs and got our performances in shape. So our rehearsal is essentially done. And that in itself has been a huge process. We’ve built the website with all the content. We have a brand. Attached to that we have new cards, beermats and posters on the way. We have The Diaries themselves, which I’m writing in as I write. So much of getting all this done has included tons of admin, and so much of the other extraneous activities involved in building a new life, while working on extrications from the previous one, and getting the house and travelling bits all in order. We’ve done all that too. The album is on the way now and we’re on that in the studio. The Diaries are taking care of themselves right now although yes, publication of them at some point is on the cards and that will add another layer to the to do list what that comes about. But right now, our activity has boiled down to a very simple equation as we seek to start to build our presence in Ireland – our local(ish) area then beyond. Book a gig, play the gig, talk to the people before and after.

And we’ve concluded, after what we’ve discovered on the ground, that we should concentrate on our own midlands area and the surrounding areas of Dublin, especially the towns just outside it. Afterall, half an hours drive from Clara and you’re practically in Dublin.

Mark:

Now we feel ready to begin recording our debut album, it’s time to make a phone call we’ve been wanting to make for some time. It’s time to call a producer. I’ve had a guy in mind and we pretty much know what we want from him. His name is Steve, he lives in Madrid, and he was one of a two man production team who I worked with when putting together the Drunken Monkees album. Following that I was in a blues band with him for the better part of two years – the two years preceding The Costa Blanca Diaries which kicked off Mark’s Diaries and the whole Diary thing. It was while working with him that I began the total reinvention of myself as a bass player and, I suppose as a musician.

Maja is really getting hold of the production side of things and I have a fair idea of the process too, so we’re not looking so much for a hands on producer. We can do the heavy lifting and big brush strokes ourselves in terms of getting raw tracks down and getting them to sound somewhat serviceable. Really what we need is someone who can advise us about being more effective as we put this thing together, and then put the finishing touches to it all when everything is done. We put the call in and have a great chat as we talk for the first time in years and he and Maja meet – on the phone – for the first time. During this call we get it all sorted out. We will record two or three tracks as well as we can – probably two – send them to him and he will tell us what we could look at to get them to another level. We’ll then make any improvements needed before taking that knowledge and applying it to the rest of the recording process, getting his views, opinions and guidance along the way. Then, when the whole thing is done, he’ll cast his eye over the full job and polish it all off until we have the finished product. That’s the working theory, he’s well on board and we’re all totally clear with what we have to do.

Now, before we begin the actual recording proper, we’re taking a trick from the Metallica playbook. What they’ve often done before the actual sessions is to record covers to test and get used to any new equipment and maybe personnel. That way they don’t waste time or creative energy going through this with material they plan to actually use. For our version, we’ve decided to record Oasis’ Supersonic. Not for any kind of release, but just to get used to all the toys and tools so that we can hit the ground running when the real production begins. Tomorrow we have our first gigs since returning to Ireland, so the first gigs of what is essentially our Ireland tour, then the next day we’ll begin work on recording our album, starting with pre production.

Day 42
Saturday April 9

Two gigs today. Two. About ten minutes drive apart on the western coast at the top of country Clare. It’s a drive of two and a half to three hours and in the vicinity, we have the famed cliffs of Moher – Liscannor, where we’re playing our first show at Joseph McHugh’s, is the closest village to the cliffs, just four kilometres away. One of the joys of touring and wide range gigging is the opportunity if offers for sightseeing and this area is apparently one of the most spectacular in Ireland, which is of itself renowned for its overall spectacular landscapes, most of all the coast regions of enormous number. So yeah. I’m quite excited about the prospect of finally getting to the cliffs of Moher. I never made it there when I lived here before.

The cliff chain runs for about 14 kilometres and raise to a maximum height of 700 feet – a little over 200 metres, with even the lower regions coming in at well over 100 metres. From these vantage points you can see the Aran Islands and a whole bunch of mountains over in Galway. As such, you might not be surprised to learn that they’re Ireland’s top attraction, pulling in around one and a half million visits per year.

We have this wonderful romantic vision of driving up to the edge of the cliffs and being able to contemplate the far below pounding Atlantic while running through a few warmup songs. You know, the kind of thing you might see bands do in videos which look quite amazing, but have no bearing in reality. But yeah. We are going to go do that reality.

Or so we think.

When we arrive in the general area, we discover the whole thing has been somewhat commercialised and that simply driving up to the cliffs and looking after yourself isn’t a thing. Instead you have to park in the visitor carpark which has a charge, and then there’s the whole ‘Cliffs of Moher experience.’ It looks like it’s a whole daytrip thing rather than just come and briefly hang out thing. That’s not part of any of our plans at all. So we decide to forget about this part of it all and just go park near the venue and have a little play there. We’re still on the coast, so we’re still able to find a lovely seaside spot to park up, get the guitar out and have our planned little warmup play in the car, with the front seats reclined all the way back to give ourselves a little more room. We spend a little time leisurely working through a few songs, then rest a little bit more, then we’re ready to drive the last few metres to the venue before heading in to set up.

It’s to a slightly bemused clientele that we roll in and begin to prepare ourselves. But we have been afforded a really good space to play in. A whole wall area directly opposite the bar. Up to the bar and over to the left, unseen around the corner, a small group of men is gathered. Once we have set up somewhat organised, I take myself round there and introduce us with cards, and they seem quite warmly welcoming and intrigued as to what we’re going to do. While I’m doing this, Maja takes the right hand side of the bar and introduces us over there and we then both make our way across the bar area itself before meeting in the middle. Right back to the very first days in Berlin, then onto Hamburg, we realised that it was a good idea to let people know this will be a short show, and one of originals only, and generally give people some kind of idea of what we’re about. That done, we return to our stage area to continue preparation. As we’re starting to put our equipment together, an old man comes up to me and asks if we’re going to play trad. ‘If you don’t you’ll have me to answer to,’ he says in some form of mock aggression. But he isn’t changing his stance too much and it looks like he really is expecting some kind of response and acquiescence. As we’re enjoying our mini standoff and I’m trying to explain to him that we’re only going to be doing our own stuff, no trad, a lady enters the picture, comes between us and talks gently to him, explaining what’s going on. For a start, the man also seems a bit perturbed and a little angry that we’re getting the chance to play in here when he wasn’t able to get himself booked. The lady quickly introduces herself to me as Helen, then returns her attention to him. ‘These guys have got something different going on altogether,’ she begins. ‘They’re not being paid by the bar. They’re actually very brave people just rocking up to places, doing their own thing and then passing the hat.’ He still doesn’t seem to understand and still wants to remonstrate with me but she guides him out of the back door, turning to me and saying, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll sort him out.’ Great. When she returns, san slightly confused old man, Maja’s arrived on the scene and I introduce them to each other. Helen then addresses both of us emphatically, saying, ‘I think what you guys are doing is brilliant, and just so brave. Just to have got off your backsides, created something and then started to bring it round to people who have no idea what you’re about to do, and sink and swim on your own devices, I think that’s just amazing.’ Thankyou very much. ‘You know what?’ she continues, ‘I have to go. I can’t stick around, but I’m going to put a fiver in your hat just for the pure stones you guys have to go around and do this. All fair play and respect to you. With that, she produces the promised fiver and drops it in the hat, then she hugs us both, wishing us all kinds of good luck both for tonight and beyond, and heads out the front door.

As we approach showtime, a large group of girls on a birthday night out around the towns and villages comes in. This is a thing in rural Ireland – groups of people renting a minivan for an evening and going round a whole bunch of different places. We often see such vans in Clara. A few of them, including the birthday girl, come and say hi and are very very interested in what we’re about to do. They say they’ll be up front and are really up for it. Great. Out of nowhere we have our main audience. When we start, they are exactly where they said they would be. Four or five of them starting to get into the swing of it and dancing. But the group as a whole kind of holds back and the girls dancing seem to get slowly discouraged and they fall back as well, meaning we’re playing to a mostly disinterested looking bar; the guys around the corner have stayed firmly around the corner. However, through this veil of indifference a few people really stand out for their levels of interest. A few guys sitting facing the bar have turned round and are looking at us in something resembling confused shock. Like, what the hell is this. More and more, this starts to spread about the place and now and then, one of the guys round the corner comes and has a look for a while. We’re a long way from totally winning the bar over, but people do at least seem to be listening and a few people seem to be really deep into what we’re doing but quite unsure of how to react. My take on this is that most, if not all, of the people in here have never seen a grassroots original band. Sure, they’ve probably been to a Stones or U2 concert, or seen other bands on varying rungs of the fame ladder. But right down and dirty brand new unknown acts playing their own music and songs that mostly no-one’s ever heard before? No. Don’t think so. I would say that the entirety of bar concerts anyone in here has ever seen has been coverbands. Which means they really have no idea of what to make of us. If there was to be an emphatic response, I also think that’s been a bit dampened by the more dominant personalities in the room. Maybe one or two of those guys round there are being a bit cool for school, or non comitant, so the others feel they can’t really show too much enthusiasm. Ditto for the group of girls, which seems to have totally lost interest. But none of this phases me or Maja the tiniest bit as we continue to perform as though we own the place and it’s our very own little Wembley. That’s just how you have to do it. Back down, show the slightest amount of fear, lack of confidence or hesitation and it’s all over. Keep pushing forwards and at the very least, you’ll find a way through. And so it is here, as those who are into it really seem to be picked up and transported by the way we’re totally giving them a real show, regardless of what the general feeling in the room might be. Our thoughts on all this are a little borne out by the round of pass the hat which I take on once we finish. The guys are polite enough but mostly decline, and one of them even says, ‘I’d pay to you stop.’ I don’t miss a beat or take offence. Instead, I just smile the smile and say, ‘Well, look, we stopped for free so you’re all good.’ The girls? Well, as one, they just don’t want to know at all and I don’t push it. Afterall, you can’t and shouldn’t. The hat’s there. All you can do is make people aware of it and they’re free to react in any way they want to. But out of these cold hard pockets, a few people almost seem at a rush to get to me and drop something in, and one or two even call me back when I inadvertently miss them out and start to walk off. Like we thought during the show, something has connected somewhere. OK. One down. We pack up and leave with no-one seeming to notice we’re doing so. Fair enough. Onto the next place.

We find quite a lively atmosphere at The Corner Post in Lahinch. This is a two room bar. The front is quite traditional and loung-ey, then off to the side of that through a small doorway is a much larger room, currently operating as something of a dining room for three long tables around the two walls right and left, and one at the top of the room. When we enter, Michael, the manager, says we can set up wherever we want in the lounge area. Every table is taken, and there’s just one space available which is right inside this room at the bottom of the two steps up to the dining area. However, it’s full of tables right now and Michael suggests we wait until the big group has gone and then we can put the tables in there and begin at the rough start time of 10pm. That big group is a hen night, so all girls out on the town. This request to wait until they’re leaving so we can use their space for the tables that are in our way doesn’t strike me as odd until we’re packed up and leaving at the end of the night. He’s just said we should wait until that group is gone before we start because their presence is preventing us from setting up. However, it’s because that group is here that he’s booked us in here tonight. In all the busy-ness of the evening, this little fact seems to have been forgotten. And anyway, when 10:40 rolls round and they’re still there, we decide we can’t wait any longer and move the tables into there anyway, positioning them just about appropriately with the help of the bar staff letting us know where they can and can’t go. OK. We can set up and get started now. We do this with one speaker to the right of me stage right, taking care of this room, and the other speaker to the left of Maja pointing in towards the girls. Just as we’re set up and ready to go, they all start singing Zombie by The Cranberries. Hearing this, I join on to accompany them on guitar and they react in full-on joy. With this simple call and response, they are with us. Just a few more minutes of last minute preparations and we’re all good. We’re in and the girls are up on their feet and loving it. But we’ve started far too late and they now are indeed about to leave. They manage to stick around for the second song as they wait for stragglers to be ready, but then they really are out the door. As they file past us, I’m chugging on an E chord as we enter the break of Run. We hold off on the vocals and talk to the girls as they walk past, thanking them and encouraging them to take cards. They take it all in fun and plenty of communication and thanks and warm words come back from them. But then they’re gone and we’re left playing to a tiny bar of a few patrons scattered round tables with two or three actually sat at the bar. But, just like at McHugh’s, we once again find ourselves looking into faces staring back at us in some kind of disbelief and uncertainty of how to act to what’s going on. And the applause is wonderfully warm when it comes. The bar staff are also totally into it, and when we finish, almost everyone is happy to put money in the hat that I take round. But that everyone really does not add up to very many people. But still, we’ve made something of an impression in here tonight, although I’m a little disappointed to hear that Michael wasn’t able to stick around and had to head off to meet someone. Oh well. Like the last place, we leave without organising a return date, but that’s absolutely fine. They’ll call or they won’t. In the meantime we’ve got a whole country to have a run at as we just continue to push relentlessly forwards.

Day 43
Sunday April 10

We do have plans for that relentlessness today in the form of more hustling, but after arriving home near 3am last night after two gigs and the drive, we take far more time to feel up and at it than we expected. Instead, we watch movies, and later on, get to gentle work with pre pre production as we call up Supersonic and start to learn and rehearse it.

Day 44
Monday April 11

We ordered a few things from Thomann and they arrive today. As ever, a Thomann delivery can feel a bit like Christmas, especially when you don’t remember everything you’ve ordered and that’s just what it’s like today. By the time we’ve finished and have allocated new and already existing bits and pieces to road set up and studio gear, we have two complete sets of equipment meaning we can just keep our live stuff packed and ready to go. No more need to pull down the studio, take it out, then put it back together again. All we need to do now is unhook the studio monitors to take out as live speakers, and off we go. Among all this we now have an extra speaker stand meaning we can now set up two speakers either side of us on stage for a much more professional look rather that what we have been doing which is one speaker on a stand, another on a table. And more, we also have the capability to fit all this on the trollies we have, so while we will be using the car for the foreseeable, we can still walk around with all this stuff if we have to like we did in Berlin and Hamburg.

To get all this done, we dive into a busy day going through everything we already had and everything new and splitting it all into sections, while also making sure each piece of equipment is marked to denote where it belongs, which serves the automatically dual purpose as marking it as ours for when those tricky moments can arise, such as a DJ, another band on a bill, or simply a musically well supplied venue thinking you might just innocently and accidentally be taking something of theirs. I had a very awkward situation in a previous band. We were packing our gear up when the duty manager of the bar insisted the speaker we were loading onto our trolly was theirs. This really strained polite relations for an uncomfortable ten minutes or so until someone finally remembered that one of their DJs had taken theirs home with him the previous night to fix it.

Back to today and by the time we’ve finished with our delivery we now have enough for two fully functioning studios in the house and a live setup. With this we begin setting up a whole new studio in the upstairs spare bedroom. This is where we decide most of our recording will be done. The larger downstairs studio will now be used for preproduction, and especially as a place where I can work on practicing and maybe even recording bass parts at times when Maja is in the studio upstairs.

Day 45
Tuesday April 12

Mark:

After a little studio time, as afternoon comes, we start to get ready for what will be our first real hustle day. I say this because we’re not totally counting the Clare/Galway hustle for two reasons. First, the Liscannor/Lahinch trip was based on actual leads and being able to drop a name, so at the very least they were warm rather than completely cold calls. And second, because Galway wasn’t so much a hustle, more an exercise in collecting emails and phone numbers and not being able to pitch to anyone.

And I say ‘we get ready’ because we fully pack the car as if going for a gig because, should the circumstances arise, we want to be ready to play a venue there and then. Either a manager could be like, you can play tonight/now if you want, or we could actually offer it if we think the window is there. This packing of the car includes overnight provisions including an overnight bag, our blow up double mattress, and sleeping bags. Because, well, you just never know.

Our first hustle target is our nearest decent sized town of Tullamore, the biggest town in our county of Offaly.

The plan is to first ask if a bar actually does music of any kind because if it doesn’t, it’s not likely to be viable and there’s no point wasting anyone’s time. But even then, nothing is set in stone. As we make our way round the town, quite a few places don’t, and we say thankyou for your time and goodbye.

One of the places we have highest hopes for is The Goalpost where Pat plays, so at the very least we already know they have regular live music. We pop our heads in and immediately see it’s too busy for anyone to have any time to talk to us. Oh dear. It’s approaching 6pm and we may have left it too late for today. OK. Carry on.

So straight to Fergies, the main live venue of Tullamore. There, we meet Fergie himself. The bar is empty and we’re thinking, ‘Here we go.’ But he seems totally uninterested and not massively communicative and is really just like, ‘I’ll have a look and get back to you if I think it’s something I could go for.’ Fair enough I guess and maybe he’s inundated with bands, or has enough going on already, and that’s just his way of dealing with new people coming in. But we were expecting a little more, even if just a touch of engagement and interest in what we were doing. Especially when we’re able to say we don’t charge and are going for the hat approach. Maybe that’s the part he doesn’t like and it might not be for everyone. Who knows?

Just outside the door of this bar we see a poster advertising a lineup of original acts coming soon in a venue called John Lees. Which is just round the corner. Oh yes. This was already on our list but we hadn’t yet checked to see where it was. A band called Double Bill who we saw at the trap last week told us about this place. Thanks for the tip lads. We’re here now. In we go.

Oh well. The main man, John, isn’t in. It’s suggested we try again after eight.

Another few bars with no managers in sight. This is starting to get slightly frustrating.

We decide it could be time to see if The Goalpost has calmed down. It has. A little. The barman points the manager, Darren, out to us who is out in the bar, and we go and introduce ourselves. He Politely listens to our pitch and, when we’ve finished, says, ‘You can’t argue with that.’ It’s a wonderfully casual and encouraging acceptance. He asks us to leave details and says he could possibly put us on the weekend after next. Thankyou very much. We’ll say no more and see how that pans out.

Onto the next town, which we’ve selected as Moate. This journey takes us all the way back to Clara, and through the other side.

As we arrive and take in the small town, which is comparable in size to our own Clara, we see that there are three possible bars. Peadars, Egans and The Gap House. While Clara is a town centred around a few streets and something of an identifiable shape, Moate is one of those towns you see so often in Ireland which consists of one single, long street on something of a main road with constant fast traffic passing through it, all using it simply as a place to go through to get somewhere else.

Peadars’ outside advertising makes it very clear this is a bar for live music, so we feel quite good as we go in. Once more we discover no manager is in, but the bargirl Anita is open to us and seems really interested in what we have to say and says she will let the manager know. Great

Egans is a small looking place, but when we go in it’s surprisingly big. No manager again, but the girl who introduces herself as Rachel thinks the manager could well be interested. Again, OK.

Now we go for The Gap House, a really quite large looking place right at the end of the town with the main road shooting off either side of it. We enter and find ourselves in the front bar which is quite sparse of furniture on its pristine wooden floors. There are two guys sitting at the bar and one behind it. We go and ask the barman if they ever have music and he politely says that no they don’t. No worries at all. Thankyou for your time, we will bid you good day. Maja walks out and I follow. But then I quickly turn around and decide to introduce ourselves to the patrons and barman anyway and give them cards, just because. These are accepted with some degree of well graced bemused amusement with a touch of genuine curiosity. I then ask the barman’s name and he gives it as Dennis. Lovely. Thankyou and goodbye. We leave again. Maja is out first again. ‘Do you charge at all?’ Dennis calls out to our backs. I turn round. ‘No we don’t. We only play half hour shows then we pass a hat around and see what happens. ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘In that case you could probably come back and do something one night when I might know I could have a few in.’ Oh wow. A possible gig out of absolutely nowhere. And we were on our way when the window opened. ‘That would be wonderful,’ says Maja. ‘Great,’ says Dennis. Leave it with me and I’ll give you a call sometime.

As we walk out into the street and the door swings shut behind us we collapse in fits of hysterical laughter. I have never, never experienced anything like that in a bar hustle before.

As we return to the car, we notice a poster for a craft beer festival in this town sometime in July and it will include live music. Cool. Another contact to add to the list. I cross over the road and jot down the details. We will be in touch.

Now we’re off to the one bar village of horseleap. One bar. Does that qualify it as a village? No idea. Anyway, that’s where we’re going now. We arrive and see it’s not just one bar, it’s also one shop, with both places housed in the same building and run by the same person. Literally. Behind the bar we meet Brida who is happy to hear our pitch for what we have to offer. As we’re talking to here, there’s a tinkle and we realise someone’s walked in the other door outside and has entered the shop. Brida excuses herself and disappears off to the side of the bar. Oh, she is now behind the counter of the shop. It’s the same counter. This side looks like a bar and that side looks like a shop counter. But it’s the same piece of construction. Only in a place like this. She comes back and we chat for a little while and she says that yes they do have music occasionally, and yes, there could be room for us, but she has no idea when that could be just yet. OK. Positive. Maybe something to think of for the future. We thank her for her time and leave it there. Yeah, we could do something in here if we catch it at the right time.

We need to go shopping which means we need to go back to Tullamore. Which just happens to coincide with the little after 8pm time when we were told the main man would be in John Lees. As we enter the town we notice a large bar on the edge of it that we’ve driven past many times. Large enough to have its own car park. Why the hell not? We stop and walk in. It really is quite big and split into two more or less equally sized bars with the front door giving you the option to go left or right into either one of them, and they’re joined again at the back by a little walkway, creating a kind of circle. A social circle, if you will.

It’s quiet and the bar girl we speak to says that yes, the bosses are in and that she can introduce us to them. She leads us into the opposite bar to the one we’re in now and points out two people sitting on the public side of it, right at the far end. Thankyou. We go down and introduce ourselves to them. They are Gordon and Maria, and they listen attentively as we give them our pitch. They look at each other, have a silent conference, and then Gordon says, ‘Why not? When would you be thinking of?’ We have a think and the four of us settle on this Friday. So that’s it. Just like that, Gig booked.

Back out in the carpark and we’re giddy with the excitement of a result in a bar we really weren’t considering and not one person has mentioned to us as a possibility.

Now we have John Lees, which is on the way as we head to the supermarket. We’re met by the barman who happily takes us out back to meet the man himself, and oh, this is a much bigger place than we expected. We’re to discover it’s three venues in one. The front bar, the really quite large covered beer garden area, and yet another small venue complete with stage in a room leading directly from that. John shows us it all as we talk about who we are and he tells us about the kinds of events the place has. They include a Ukraine benefit concert coming up next Friday – the 22nd. He says he’s happy to chat to the guy organising that to see if he could find a spot for us. Probably a 15 minute show for us. If that bill is full, John says he’d be prepared to organise another day we could play to see how we go and take it from there. Like our man Darren at The Goalpost said, can’t argue with that.

We know there’s been a lot there to take in, so to recap, out of today’s hustle, this is what we’re looking at.

15th April – this Friday: The Lantern
Friday 22nd April: possibly John Lees
Saturday or Sunday 23/24th April: possibly The Goalpost

There are also call-back possibilities to venues showing at least some kind of interest.

Peadars, Egans, and The Gap House of Moate.

Paddy Ryans of Horseleap, although we’ll probably just leave that one and see.

And a festival event to get on to.

Day 46
Wednesday April 13

We have another delivery today. This time our stationary, which means we have new cards, a whole more ton of beermats, and posters. And stickers, and now even one of those ink stamp things for The Diaries. Very cool. We decide this is a perfect opportunity to go visit a few venues we’ve chatted with to maybe give them a bit of a nudge. First stop is The Lantern in Tullamore, which we’re playing on Friday. So they have our first posters now.

Walking through the town on our way to The Goalpost we bump into our musician friend Pat. He’s with a couple of friends and introduces us to them as rockstars. ‘These guys are badass,’ he adds. Absolutely fair enough and taken. He was one of the first people to tell us that we were wasting our time trying to play originals with no covers at all. Now he’s all, ‘Go for it guys,’ and introducing us as rockstars. Feels like a turnaround of acceptance.

Now into The Goalpost, again, ostensibly to drop off beermats, and posters just so they have them to hand should we be booked. Seeing what we’ve brought, Darren says, a little gleefully and with a touch of, what the hell do we have here, ‘You guys really aren’t messing around are you?’ Nope. We most definitely are not. With that, Maja declares to him, ‘We are going to be famous. We just are.’ Darren looks on with a smile and a wry shake of the head that says, ‘That might just be true.’

When we arrive for the drop at John Lees, John is there and immediately greets us, saying, ‘Have you seen my email?’ We explain we’ve been out for a while, and that no, we haven’t. ‘No problem,’ he says. ‘I’ve spoken to the organiser and you guys are on the bill for that show next Friday.’ Not only that, but it emerges that our 15 minute slot is at 11:30, the last performance of the night with the whole thing beginning at eight. Our very first bone fide headline show. ‘So we’ve got you booking in for that and we’ll see how it goes,’ he says. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

Tullamore done and it’s back out to Moate to to do the same drop of posters and have a cheeky chase-up there.

The first place we pop into is Peadars, where Anita is once more behind the bar. Shesays the manager isn’t there today either, but that’s fine as we tell her we’re just here to drop off these bits and pieces that just arrived today. The bar was empty last time we were here, but there are four people in here today enjoying a quiet drink and they all throw us a hello as we walk in. This makes it slightly easier for us to do what we sometimes do on the hustle which is to say hi to customers and give them a card.

We carry the guitar around everywhere now when we’re out and about like this. First, when we’re out and taking all our gear, because, well, you never know, the guitar doesn’t fit into the boot. So for security reasons we don’t want to leave it lying around all obvious in the car. But secondly, we bring it along anyway for its conversation starter potential and again because, well, you never know.

This turns into one of those ‘You never know’ situations. As we’re thanking Anita and making our way out the door, one of the four people says, ‘Are you really leaving without getting that guitar out giving us a song?’ You see what I mean? Well, what can you say to that? I guess we can. The other three customers instantly become more animated, with one of them even calling out, ‘I hope you’ve brought a hat.’ Oh yes, we have. Yep. We carry that everywhere with us too. Because, well, you never know.

There is a little table area that musicians usually use in the corner opposite the bar, but we’re not going to use it. Instead, it just becomes somewhere to store the guitar case. We have two people sitting at the right of us at this end of the bar, a guy at the other end and, opposite, the man who first suggested we should play, seated at a table near the door. Me and Maja have a quick conference wondering what to play and go for Rock’n’Roll Tree. As we begin, I gently nudge Maja forwards, whispering at the same time for her to do so. And so she does. So Maja is now pretty much on her own standing right in the middle of the bar with me a little behind. This reason for this is to put her closer to the people so that she can be heard better above the guitar because, well, she doesn’t sing massively loud and this is a big song and there’s only so much I can reduce its volume. The guys and lady in here immediately go for the song, reacting to each dynamic change with increasing delight. A minute or so in and a few phones are out filming us, one of them being held by Anita behind the bar who is looking on joyously. By the time we come to the climactic end, at least two of of our small audience are off their seats dancing, and the cheers and applause make it sound like we’ve just played a far bigger room. We react to them with thrilled laughter and profuse thanks and I make to put the guitar away. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I hear someone call out. You’re not putting that away now. At least one more.’ Yes. More, come calls from all around the bar. ‘I can’t,’ says Maja almost silently to me. ‘My voice won’t do another one like that. Not without an amp.’ Well, what about a low key one? OK. We’re not convinced a quiet song is the best way to proceed, but it’s all we’re going to be able to manage so after a bit of a conference we settle on Smile Is Going Round. This song began life as something of an upbeat mid tempo-er but after it was dropped from the set, I suggested we give it a go as a more sultry number. Before we were halfway through that experiment, we knew we had accidentally unearthed a new keeper. That was a magical rehearsal moment. Now we pull this version out for the first ever time. The effect truly is magical as me and Maja take turns to switch sides in the bar, walking around the place and around each other. As we do, the regulars come and join us, taking turns to dance with each one of us, with one particular moment seeing Maja swaying with one of the guys while I dance with the lady as she has an arm draped round my shoulder.

The Diaries has seen quite a few moments that a Hollywood script editor would have thrown out, and this surely has to be added to them. Two people walk into a bar with a guitar. Get cajoled into playing, then the whole bar gets up and dances with them to songs they’ve never heard before. Oh come on, says script editor. But here we are and that exact thing is happening. We finish to rapturous applause with each person almost rushing to shake our hands or give us a hug. And we get all their names. Pauline and Eamon this end of the bar, or at least they were when we started. John down the other end, and that was Frank who got it all started, and he very vocally claims the credit now and rightly so.

During the wonderful aftermath I’m mentally debating whether or not to bring the hat out. Afterall, we have only played two songs. While I’m still going through this in my mine, Maja picks it up and goes with it. Oh. OK. It’s happening then. There is one mild, slightly jokey protestation that this isn’t quite the Irish way of doing things, but Maja doesn’t back down. And the protest is half hearted at most, and possibly not even really meant at all as every single person drops money into the hat. I think it was possibly more of a surprise, and then they maybe thought, well, why not. Within this, Maja asserts herself saying, ‘This is what we do.’ And I add my bit that the record companies take most of the money and streaming barely pays anything to start with. But this does pay apparently. And we get to keep it all.

Hat done and questions start about who we are and where we came from, and we delight in tag teaming each other as we fill them in on our story and their collective heart melts a little more with each extra detail. Then Anita drops in with, ‘I’ll be sure to tell the boss about this. Hopefully he’ll have you in for a show.’ Hopefully.

Soon after that we say our goodbyes and head out across the road to the car, laughing and shaking our heads in total euphoric disbelief as Maja says, ‘We might just be the first people ever to drop into a pub for 20 minutes and leave with more money than we went in with.’

Now onto The Gap House. A little disappointingly Dennis isn’t there so we speak with bargirl Sarah instead and ask if we can leave a poster and beer mats with her. She’s a little confused, but is like, er, OK.

Next it’s back into Egans where we find the one barman standing in the middle of the bar chatting to the few people who are in – one guy at the bar and two people at each of the two tables opposite the bar. He says he’s not the manager but he’s happy to talk. Talk music? Well, we have regular people and that’s it really. What if we’re not charging but want to do our own thing for half an hour and pass a hat round? Oh. OK. When would you like to do that? Whenever really. Next Thursday, he offers. Just come in whenever, he suggests breezily. And just like that, job done.

Back home and we decide to go to the trap for one or a few. Once in there and comfortably seated at the bar, we say hi to a few lads and they give a big enthusiastic hi to Maja as it’s the first time they’ve seen her since that first show in here. While we’re chatting, one of them, called Steve, tells us about a bar called Gussies 5km down the road in the village of Ballycumber that has an open mic style thing on Sundays from 6-8. He says he’ll be there with his friends, and now, so will we.

Later on, the bosses, Jimmy and Angela drop by for a drink. I leave Maja with the people we’re chatting to and show them the new beer mats and ask if we can leave a few. No problem. And they them and want to know where we got them printed. Maja’s been on that so I say I’ll go and get her for them. So go back to the table and Maja disappears to chat to Jimmy and Angela for a while. It really goes on a while as I see them in deep conversation. When she comes back, she says, we got it organised. We’re playing here Wednesday May 11. Wow.

So this is where we are and what we have now.

Home recording studio
Home rehearsal/pre production studio
Car packed with overnight needs
Fully portable road gear
A producer to guide us
A website
Pre production underway on our debut album with actual production imminent.
New beer mats, new cards and posters, with a bunch of all three out in a load of bars
An income. An actual income. Not enormous amounts, but we have now proved that can actually generate real hard currency money playing live with our own songs

A few new gigs in the diary from today:

The Lantern, Tullamore, this coming Friday.
Egans, Moate, Thursday 21st April
John Lee’s, Tullamore. Confirmed for our first headline show Friday 22nd April
Gussies, Ballycumber: a new open mic thing, whatever it turns out to be for this Sunday
The Trap booked for Wednesday 22nd May
And money that we didn’t have when we left, from the hat from a mini show we got asked to play on the spot. Which means a show played out of nowhere today can be added to the list above.

Oh, one thing before we leave this entry. While we were in The Trap, my phone rang. At first I thought it was the manager from Peadars calling to book us. But no. It was the guy from Egans, apologising massively, saying he’d jumped the gun, had spoken to his boss since we left, and the boss had nixed the show, saying their’s was purely a trad bar. Paul can’t apologise enough, but I tell him it’s all cool, and add that I really appreciate him letting us know. So, while you’re here, you can go up to that list and just cross that gig off.

Day 47
Thursday April 14

With a live performance yesterday and four more assured – with a fifth that quickly went by the wayside – we take a day off hustling to concentrate on Diary writing, which has been massively neglected lately, and to get some real mileage in the studio. But a maker’s gonna make, a ballers gonna ball and a hustler’s gonna hustle. Late on we decide to go for a decent sized shop at one of those edge of town supermarkets that Tullamore has. One of them, bizarrely, has a pub at its edge. It’s not so much a pub with a carpark, as a carpark that just happens to have a pub. Apart from being massively curious as to what this kind of pub could be like, we also look at each other and are like, why not? It’s a bar, we’re here, they can only say no. It also has a sign at the door that says it has music. OK. In we go and the barman calls the manager over who seems to be off duty and having a drink with friends. But she still comes and is happy to hear what we have to say. Her name is Jenny, she is absolutely lovely with us and personally very interested in our story and what we’re doing. But she says the customers wouldn’t be. This, she explains, is one of those bars where people come for a quiet drink and know that’s what they’re getting when they choose a bar like this. They wouldn’t thank anyone who rocked up and, well, rocked. I totally get this. As much as I love my live music and have often sought out original bands, if I wanted to chat to a friend or friends, and just chat, we would steer ourselves away from potentially louder places and choose that one over there that never had any live music. If someone then came in and proceeded to do the music thing live, I know we wouldn’t be impressed, even if we were impressed. So Jenny is purely reflecting her business and all good. But I really feel we make a big impression on her and Maja doesn’t hesitate to give her a few cards. We leave with all her good wishes, and feeling like we’ve once more left with something on the table. If you’re trying to spread by word of mouth, and where we are, we feel that’s the most powerful tool you can have, we’ve once more put that word out. Jenny, just thankyou for listening. Sometimes that in itself can be good enough.

Day 48
Friday April 15

When we were being told to please please not attempt to play original songs to coverband audiences, they’ll throw things at you, please don’t do it, lads, I’m telling ya, you’ve got to throw a couple of covers in or they’ll eat you alive, I think The Lantern in Tullamore would have been pretty high on anyone’s mind. Right on the edge of town, it’s a pub for 50-something year old hard men who want to play pool and watch sport. And maybe once in a while get in touch with their more sensitive side by waving their hands in the air to Sweet Caroline while making sure not to touch anyone else’s hand. It is not a place you go into and try to sing your own songs. It just isn’t. Which, of course, is exactly what we’re going there to do tonight. ‘Don’t do it lads,’ I can almost hear as we walk in the door. To be fair, our initial experience is to be greeted with nods of friendliness and a few murmurs of at least appreciation as we park up right next to the door and start loading the gear in. We enter the cavernous room on the right hand side of the bar and yep, there’s live soccer on the telly. The most popular thing in here is the pool table, and there are a few guys hanging round still wearing their hi-vis tops. Over in the other bar are two large tables hard at playing poker. I’m only assuming it’s poker. At the very least, it’s a card game requiring serious, silent and slightly menacing levels of concentration. Yep. We wrote some songs that we’re going to play in here tonight.

From all this, Gordon looks up and welcomes us with a generous smile. Like quite a few people before him, he’s given us this gig without even having heard us. I don’t know what must be going through his mind, but he’s bright and positive and interested to hear how we’ve been getting on and seems genuinely please when we tell him we have our first headline gig, also in Tullamore, for next week.

We feel the curiosity levels rise all over the place as we set up in the corner showing nothing but quiet assuredness and confidence. You really can’t overestimate how much this can be as important as any performance. Show fear or nerves in the centre of all this and you can be done before the first song starts. Show total confidence and people might just sit up and think, ‘Oh, OK. Let’s see what we have here.’ Seeing what they have here is exactly what the guys and ladies in this place do. They give us at least that, and show amusement and some decent level of interest as we do our pre show thing of handing out cards and letting people know what we’re about to do in here.

You really don’t want to show your hand too much at an originals gig, but that’s tricky when you have to soundcheck in front of everyone, which is what we do now, with the jukebox still on – Gordon did offer to turn it off but we said it was fine. This is a very important element of the night. We don’t want to go on too long and start annoying people and lose them before the first song, but we also have to get it right. To that end, for the first time, we begin by just soundchecking with the monitor that is only facing us. Get the mix right in there, then turn on the speakers. Here, I ask Gordon to let me know if things get too loud, and I play guitar at the highest levels of volume I can manage while Maja gently turns up the dial. I stop it at a pretty decent place and glance over to Gordon at the pool table, and he winks an approval. Great. Get some vocals in there and make sure they’re high enough in the mix. We’re done. See you in a few.

Gig time and everyone is holding their positions. Backs to us at the bar. Coldly concentrating on the next pool shot. We just launch straight in. A four count and I Like You (Better When You’re Naked). This has them going straight away and ears perk up and people at least half turn towards us. The pool guys are nudging each other just ever so slightly to maybe pay a little attention. And there we are, smashing and rocking it out and acting as though the bar’s full of a crowd that came out tonight to see nothing but us and wanting a show. Maja’s hair is flying all over the place and she’s roaring at the ceiling. Next to her, I’m pounding away on the guitar like I’m trying to break up a road. In perfect time and rhythm of course. When we finish, it’s to cheers, shouts and a very insistent applause. We say nothing. Right into the next one. Rock’n’Roll Tree. And on and on it goes. Run really gets people going tonight, more than it ever has, Beanie Love really has them smiling and some actually bouncing with us. In between all this, Gordon walks past us and drops what is actually a performance fee into the hat. We’ve actually just been paid. For the first time. Not a bar manager kindly dropping a personal fiver in. An actual decent standard rate for a regular bar band. After this, Fire. Oh, Fire. Pardon the pun, but this is a gentle slow burn that asks an audience to just trust you and hop on for the ride and see where it goes. By the time we get to it, they’re ready and prepared to at least see which direction this thing is headed in. It’s a quiet opener and I take my cue from Victor Wooten, and his lesson that sometimes it isn’t volume that gets people to listen, but lack of it. I dial back as far as I can on the gentle arpeggiation of the earlier stages of this song and the bar falls into the sudden quietness we’ve brought upon the place. We have them. We really have them. This song builds. And falls back, and then builds again to climax in a burning adrenaline rush. When the final rush hits and then pitches into silence, the bar erupts. Oh wow. If ever there was a crowd that epitomised the kind of crowd we thought we could come and play to where few others would even attempt, this is the one. And, right from the beginning, back in London, we had the confidence that we could win such a room over. Before we even had a single song written. And here we are. We’re even point blank refusing requests to play this or that song, or to have this or that person come up and sing with us. We’re here to do our thing and that’s he end of it. We smile and we’re polite. But firm and clear. We play originals. No covers, no singalongs. The message is received and respected as what could have become demands just shrink back and cease.

After the gently epic intermission of Fire, it’s onto Six Sense Lover, brand new song How You Rock’n’Roll, then the frenetic, almost metal sounds of My Game My Rules, which we attack like we never have before, with Maja spitting the words out with a new fury of viscious, daring threat. And the finale, we just howl it into the air and up at the full moon that we know is out there looking down on us tonight. As we finish and collapse in a pool of sweat and heavy breathing like a distance runner coming off the last tortured strait, the bar picks up where we left off, filling the room with sound and at least some cry of ‘Encore.’ The call isn’t insistent enough though, so we decline to continue. But hey, encore definitely got called and we’ll take that.

We feel we’ve passed quite a few of the sternest tests tonight. Now for the final one. The hat. Which has already seen some action with a few people stepping forwards and making a drop. I make special care to go to them first and express my appreciation. Now I head off round the rest of the place and each group I approach opens up, lets me in, then closes around me as everybody puts in. Everybody. Some even cajole friends to get their wallets open. There’s a mood of triumph in here and handshakes are all around with people also keen to chat briefly and ask how we’ve been getting on generally and when we’ll be back next.

When I get back to Maja, she’s busy chatting to a few guys who’ve come over and hands me one of our beer mats. It contains a handwritten message and her autograph, and now I’m requested to add mine. We’re told, ‘You guys are going to be something, and this will be going behind the bar for everyone to see that you were here.’ Oh wow. We even have a private party request and we negotiate a provisional fee that any professional band would be happy to accept. Whether or not they follow through is irrelevant and we suspect they won’t. But they were impressed and interested enough to ask and we’re delighted with that.

Now, those beer mats. We’ve just had them redone and we deliberately made the open space on them clearer to make it possible to autograph. A massively presumptuous move, but really, it felt anything but. And here we are, on our first full gig since receiving them, and we are indeed being asked for our autographs.

Once we’re all packed up, it takes a while for us to be able to leave. It’s all hand shakes and hugs and, for Maja, huge hugs. A few even tell me how refreshing it is to hear someone doing their own thing, that all they usually hear are the same songs by different people. Didn’t see that one coming. And then we’re home. We’ve only played a half hour show so it’s still nowhere near last orders. We unload the car into the downstairs studio and before we know it, we’re back out the door again and down to The Trap where we grab our massively appreciated post gig beer and just sit there in a daze as we try to take in what we’ve just done.

Maja:I just want to write a little of my experiences

Day 49
Saturday April 16

Mark:

We wake up still a little overwhelmed about last night. The biggest thing we feel is vindication. Everything we thought we could do when we started has just been done. We always knew we could. But actually doing it. Actually going through the experience and coming out the other side like that is a whole different thing. A relief? A triumph? No. The word really is vindication. But really, you know, you know and you know. But until you really do, all you truly have is belief in yourself. Hard, cold, unshakeable belief maybe, but at the end of the day, it’s still only belief. Now it’s actual, total knowledge.

We’ve walked into a cold solid coverband bar with our own music and were met with, well you saw it just like we did. Cheers, encore shouts, autographs and payment. But as much confidence as we’ve always had, getting autograph requests in such a venue this early in the game was never a part of even our most optimistic vision.

Now we feel, for the very first time, that we have a few shows coming up with no weight on them. Open mic tomorrow, whatever that really is, then headlining with four songs in original venue next week. And it’s Easter weekend now so the bars will be busy so we can’t even get out and hustle.

Day 50
Sunday April 17

Into Ballycumber and Gussies for tonight’s open mic. What will this be all about? For a start, we see that Gussies is one of three bars on a short stretch of road. So surely it’s not going to be full of guys and girls rocking up with their guitars like what we saw in Berlin. We’ve arrived a little early and are enthusiastically greeted by the already slightly busy bar. All stools at the bar itself are taken, so we order cups of tea and take a table by the window.

While we’re there we work on what will become something of a mission statement for our website and ‘donate’ button. We hammer it out for a while until it looks like this:

This is what we do

We believe society wants and needs new music that comes from the heart

However, most hits are now written by using algorithms

We don’t have a record deal yet, but then, most record companies keep most of the money anyway and then find ways to take the rest

Streaming pays next to nothing

Bars generally don’t pay original acts, but we understand and have no problem with that

Which is exactly why we have the hat

Please think of the Donate button as the online equivalent of the hat and help keep us on the road

Just before 7pm, Emmet, the man of the night comes in, sees our guitar and comes and says hi. We ask about what’s going on and it very quickly becomes clear that this isn’t quite an open mic in the way we might imagine such a thing. Instead, it’s more an open trad session where you have the performers, or in this case, the performer, and people are welcome to sit in at the table with them, or now and then, people might be free to do their own thing, maybe as in the case of an open mic, so I can see the overlap. I’ve always known trad sessions operated kind of like this. It’s just that we weren’t totally sure what we were walking into was essentially a trad session, just a one man affair. And a very popular one; as soon as 7pm nears round the doors barely stop opening as more and more people come until there’s hardly any room left in the place. He starts and it is indeed all Irish ballads and rebel songs. Fair enough. But we don’t really fit into this. But Emmet’s game and a few songs in he invites us to do our thing. Just like we did in Peadars in Moate last week, we don’t accept the invitation to take the performers’ spot. Instead we do the whole perform out on the floor thing, with me and Maja again moving around the place, around each other and at times just moving as one. We play two songs and we do get a pretty decent response, but we also feel that people aren’t totally sure how to take us and our in your face approach. But, much like Clare a few weeks ago, it’s clear that within the slightly bewildered uncertainty, some people are massively into it, especially a small group of guys over in the corner at the end of the bar. We finish and take a seat and order a couple of cokes and settle back to hear what else Emmet has got in his locker. We feel we’ve given a good account of ourselves and have at least been appreciated if not quite fully embraced. Maybe we were just too up, loud and brash. If so, fine. That won’t make us back down at all. But maybe we’ve judged a bit too quickly about how we were judged. About ten to fifteen minutes later and we’re starting to be asked why we’ve put the guitar away. Surely we’re going to do more. As encore shouts go, it’s the most benign I’ve ever heard. We smile politely and say thanks for the encouragement, but encouragement turns to insistence. Come on. You’re not done. Get up and do some more. I’m almost apologetic as I catch Emmet’s eye and say, ‘Are you OK with us getting up again?’ No problem, he says. But we’ve decided to play more to what the room might want this time and give them something slower, laid back, but maybe just a little intense. We go for Insanity, a song we love but which isn’t in our big smash set. Everyone’s talking as we stand in the middle of the bar and start, totally unamplified. Maja doesn’t even begin to attempt to sing over the noise. Instead, she starts so quietly even I can’t hear her. But a line or two in and the bar starts to quieten down, until all that can be heard is Maja’s gentle delicate voice and my softly arpeggiated guitar. A few people even start to talk a little again but are quickly asked not to by their friends. By the time we finish, it’s fair to say talking has resumed a little, but everyone is still with us and we get the warmest of applauses.

Trad audiences, it seems, are lovely to us and give us a fair crack, but something about us might not connect with them quite so much. And that’s fair enough. Which is why that guy booked us the other day in Moate before it was suggested to him that he might want to reconsider. Now, this isn’t going to make us run scared from trad bars and we’ll happily play any time the opportunity presents itself but tonight’s experience has shown us that if we see a trad bar, maybe we shouldn’t try to book our own show there. We can all still be friends, but it’s possible we should just respect each others’ space even as our spheres occasionally collide. They totally have their thing going on and when they go to it, they expect to see, well, their thing. And maybe, just maybe, a touch of us as well.

However, we have made one little mistake that we will learn from. We gave out beermats and cards before we played. Sometimes this is the right thing to do, but in an open situation like this where keeping the audience informed is not our responsibility, possibly not. What it means now that we have no reason to go round the bar and up to people again. Oh well.

Maja: My recording experiences

Day 51
Monday April 18

It’s two O’Clock in the morning and we’ve only just begun the talking.

I’ve had an idea for a few days a new concept for the website and have been developing wording to go with it. I introduced it to Maja last night during the trad session and, there and then, before Emmet arrived, wrote the first draft on our shared web folder. She gets up at 2am and starts fiddling on the computer to make this new thing work. Then, after a few hours sleep, at 5am we’re both at it as the wording gets refined and she returns to the website to also refine the aesthetics.

What this is all about is putting some wording on our ‘Donate’ button. I feel quite strongly about the word donate. It suggests giving to a charity, or giving because you feel generous, or just, really, the problem is with that word too. Giving. Afterall, when you go to a shop and pick up some milk, the money you give to the cashier is not a donation. When you go to a concert, you don’t donate in return for a ticket. And when we used to go and buy albums and CDs, even the record companies paid their bands royalties. These were not donations. So we’re putting our work out for free consumption if that’s how anyone wants it – this very Diary you’re reading now. Our live shows. Our album, which we’re working on right now. All there to just be taken and no problem. But this is what we do. And to sustain it, to make it realistic, money has to come from somewhere. OK, from a record company/ record deal or the joke income, er, stream, of streaming. But there, money is coming from a public that has decided to pay for a product. Record companies pay a fraction of a fraction, and are trying, and succeeding in many cases, to take more and more from more and more of their acts’ activities. And the streaming services don’t even pretend to bother to pay. Not really. So what is a new act to do if they’re trying to be viable on their own two feet as we are? Make it for ourselves. At least that is if we’re saying we don’t want to play the industry’s game, at least not the way they’ve got it set up. Until maybe someone comes along that we actually want to work with but we are doing our best to learn the very painful lessons of so many predecessors who put it all out there for so many other people to get so rich from. People who knew about absolutely nothing about music but knew how to squeeze money, even if it meant choking the people they were squeezing from.

So yeah. The ‘donate’ button is there, and I don’t like the word, but to be fair, there really isn’t a satisfactory alternative. Support? But if someone goes to see a band and pays the demanded entry, they might be supporting them, but that payment to enter isn’t a voluntary donation because the fan cares so much about the band’s individual members’ welfare, even if they do care a little. It’s being paid because if it isn’t, the doors remain closed. So yeah. I want to kind of supercede the word, and I think it’s time our button had a bit more weight. And no, we don’t want to introduce a pay wall. I’ve thought long and hard about how to do this and, as far as we are now, this is it.

This is what we do

We believe society wants and needs new music that comes from the heart

However, most hits are now written by using algorithms

We don’t have a record deal yet, but then, most record companies keep most of the money anyway and then find ways to take the rest

Streaming pays next to nothing

Bars generally don’t pay original acts, but we understand and have no problem with that

Which is exactly why we have the hat

Please think of the Donate button as the online equivalent of the hat and help keep us on the road

Oh, and that algorithm thing. Something we’ve only recently learned about and it suddenly makes so much make sense because so much of today’s music, at least what’s topping the charts and getting all the radio play, all sounds the same. Why? Because it’s literally designed that way for maximum effect. You want to write a number one song? Have a computer analyse the current number one and write something that hits all the same buttons but doesn’t quite sound the same, but really, does. Refresh and repeat.

As well as being on it at 2am, then 5am, we’re also up again early after a little more sleep to really get onto fully organising the house which just needs those few more touches we haven’t got to since arriving back from Hamburg. The feeling here is that we are actually beginning the recording of the album today and to be fully committed to that, we want to know the space behind us is clear and free of any nagging details. We don’t want to be recording or mixing a track, while knowing a ton of housework is sitting behind us. Of course, housework is never really done, but we want to at least feel on top of it. By around 7:30pm, we feel that we really are. The place looks and feels amazing. House in order and pre production track done and lessons learned. We are really, truly ready to go.

Eight O’Clock on the button and the first actual session of album recording begins. We finish this first session two hours later with a first full rough drum track and doubled guitar track for our first song.

Day 52
Tuesday April 19

Mark:

Although we’re now in the album recording process, our thoughts are still very much on hustling and playing live. Among this, we’re also starting to think about getting ourselves more onto the original scenes around the country. This will be a totally different kind of hustle. Getting onto an original scene is more about knowing the people. Networking, really. Maybe playing open mics in the main cities and actually getting to know the promoters and other acts you could do gigs with. But for now it emails as we start to try to get ourselves onto some festivals. I’m not massively sure what can come of this as again, I believe it’s going to be who you know and what your reputation is, but emailing certainly can’t hurt. So I’m downstairs researching and sending emails on that while Maja is upstairs working on and learning more and more about music production. And in between my other bits and pieces down here, I also have the job of getting into our downstairs studio from time to time and working on pre production so that I’m ready for Maja when she needs me. Part of my pre production is determining the BPMs for the songs so that she can possibly at least lay a raw drum track for me to play to when my recording time comes, and with that, I’m also practicing recording for real down here, learning to play some of the songs to recording level, so that by the time I get upstairs, I’m as ready as I can possibly be and hopefully don’t need too many takes; unlike vocals or bass, acoustic guitar generally has to be done in one take, so a full perfect performance with very little chance for drop-ins. This can only happen if a song has a natural stop/s and you’ve at least recorded up to a stop. And all this has to be done with energy and feeling. And as we’re double tracking the guitars, I have to do it twice. So by the time you get in there, you truly do need to know what’s going on.

Studio and pitching it is today and then around 7pm we start to get ready to go hustle in Athlone, the largest town in our immediate area.

What we’ve neglected to do before setting off however, is to check if there’s are any big sport on tonight. There is. Liverpool v Manchester United, one of the biggest Premierleague fixtures of the season. Which means all the bars are far too busy for a manager to have any time to talk to us.

But we’re here so we still decide to take the opportunity to have a look around and see the inside of some of these bars for the first time. One of them is Sean’s Bar, officially recognised by The Guinness Book of Records as the oldest bar in Ireland. Of course the Guinness book had to say it was an Irish bar. But at around 1000 years old and in the most central major settlement in the country, it probably is. It’s actually known what the oldest bar in the whole world is, but I’d say this place has a pretty good claim. As such it’s about as traditional as you can get. There’s no football in here for a start and we see there’s music every night. But when Sean, the manager, happily comes out to see us, he explains they only have trad music in here. Given our experience of Sunday night, we know what that means and thank him for his time. But he has a little more to give and very generously namechecks a few bars for us that we might like to try, including The Brazen Monkey which we’ve already been in. This is a new bar, he says, so could be a good opportunity for us. Indeed, the guy we spoke to in there said as much but the manager wasn’t around. Which is the case just about everywhere else. Around 10pm and we decide to head home. But then, just at the last corner before our carpark, we see that the bar Flannerys is far quieter than it was when we first arrived and poked our heads in to see that it was packed and the soccer was blaring. Why not? Let’s pop in again and say hello. It’s right there. You never know.

Maja: I’m going to write about our performance

Past the first bar, might as well try. Davey, Lee, Paddy. Sasha behind bar. Phil. Tells us about Jimmy Stewart in Mayors, Ballycumber, and Chrissy in Dark Horse.

For possibly the fifth time in a row, dinner doesn’t happen for us until sometime after 11pm. There’s just so much going on right now and so much to do. And we’re loving it.

Day 53
Wednesday April 20

After a day in the studio we think about returning to Athlone and trying again, but having learned our lesson, we check the schedules first. Yep. Another big match on. OK. Let’s carry on where we are.

Day 54
Thursday April 21

With Maja away in Sweden for ten days from Monday and with a gig tomorrow – our first headline – we decide to forget about the hustle, just keep on hunkering down and keep at it. So again, studio and catchup on Diary writing.

Day 55
Friday April 22

As soon as we arrive at tonight’s gig at John Lee’s in Tullamore, we’re greeted at the entry with, ‘Oh, you’re The Diaries. I saw you guys last week.’ Oh hello. Yep. He was randomly at Gussies in Ballycumber when we played that mildly luke warmly received performance at the trad night. We’re to discover it was slightly warmer than that, the first clue being when he follows his introduction up with, ‘We’ve got you on last tonight because it’s pretty hard to follow what you do.’ He then gives us a bunch of drinks tokens, we have a brief chat, and then me and Maja walk into the venue looking at each other in gleeful disbelief. And what a great looking venue it is. It’s essentially a covered outdoor show. Long, very attractive beer garden with a cool booth style seating system. You won’t get wet, but it’s open to the wind and general outdoor temperature but with powerful gas heaters, the kind that shoot up that single column of fire. So it’s warm enough. Then a really great stage set up with a log panelled backdrop decorated with multicoloured flags and a poster for the event.

While we are in essence headlining what is a benefit concert for local Ukrainian refugees, some of whom are in attendance, we’re the only musical act on tonight. Everything else is comedians and poetry readings. And a magician/comedian act.

We’ve decided to come decently early to catch as much as the whole show as we can. This is to generally see what’s going on and support our fellow performers which does facilitate the hoped for hang later, but apart from that, we really do simply want to enjoy an evening of entertainment that we also happen to be part of.

We are in and out a little bit, but we catch three main sets. Ross, David and Alex.

During this, about 20 minutes to half an hour before our 11pm start time, I have a massive surprise when I recognise a few guys from the Ballycumber performance. And they recognise me too and we have a lovely hello in the back of the bar far away from the stage. My pleasant surprise at seeing some friendly faces turns to absolute shock when they say they’ve come here tonight specially to see us. After we arrived, Dave called and let them know it was us, the act from the other night, and that was it. They were on their way. Do you have any idea how hard it can be sometimes to get friends to come out and see your shows? And here are a group of lads we’ve never met, who’ve gone, ‘Hey, The Diaries are playing tonight. We should go.’ Now I learn that they were only very much passing through Ballycumber that night and decided on the spot to drop into one of the three bars in the village for just the one – and it was just the one – and we just happened to play our first set of two songs while they were there. They weren’t around when we were cajoled into playing a third, but it didn’t matter. By then they were sold. And here they are.

By the time showtime comes around, the atmosphere in here has been completely warmed up by a wonderful set of stand-up routines and at times irreverently observational poetry readings. There’s possibly even a sense of anticipation in the air as we finish setting up and prepare to launch into what will be a well paced five song set. For the tougher cover bar crowds, we play what we call our smash set. For tonight, 15 to 20 minutes, we’re going to start off with two big ones – I Like You (Better When You’re Naked) followed by Rock’n’Roll Tree before taking things right down with Fire and Insanity, then bringing it right back up again with Six Sense Lover. Fire is in our smash set as a slight gamble as it starts delicately before slow burning into something else, but Insanity really is a gentle lovely flower of a song, although it’s cutting in its observations of those who would dissuade you from following your own path. ‘What they want what they need/ They’ll give anything just to see you bleed/ Just the once then they’ll say their right… and so on.

From the very opening frantic one-two-three-four count as we kick ourselves off, this whole place is with us. And the guys who came out to see us are right at the front and wonderfully rocking away. Sitting down, but still very much rocking away. As great as the stage setup is, it is a little strange as it faces directly to that one booth opposite with the rest of the venue at stage left. So, to play to the whole place, me and Maja have to set ourselves up kind of in a line. Both of us facing diagonally but sideways with me having a perfect view of her back the entire time. But this also means that for the first time I’m able to see her full performance, and man does she perform tonight. I see the crouches and the near jumps and the expressive arms and the reflexive thrashes to the pulses of the songs, and her hair whipping right, left and up and down, spurred on by the gusting wind that comes through us every now and again as if to remind us that we are actually almost outside. And that wind is cold and we’ve made our own individual decisions to remove our bigger tops and play as though we were all warm and toasty inside, although those warm and toasty places very quickly turn hot and sweaty for us. But tonight, it’s wonderful to have that wind and I greatly welcome its chilly bellows.

As you probably know, we always go for it, but there’s something a bit more special in tonight’s air as we feel it blow through us in those welcoming cold blasts as we continue to ignite. It could be that maybe for the first time ever we feel we don’t have to force the issue and instead have a crowd that is really on side and with us right from the beginning. We don’t even have to worry in the slightest when we bring the tempo right down as they continue to hang on to every note. We feel this first with Fire, as real fires flame upwards all around this inside/outside room. Then into Insanity, then right back out the other side as we announce our last song, then finish it the roar that’s been accompanying us all evening. No encore shout, but that’s OK.

Out on the floor and it seems everyone wants to talk to us as we immediately have so many people come and say hello. Before we know it, we’re the centre piece of a group photo with more and more people joining. Out in front the official photographer for the event does her best to fit them all in. Then we hear thanks, thoughts, and even a little analysis as we’re described in the most complimentary terms as punk. We’ve heard that before, but here it goes a little further from Dave, one of the organisers who also performed earlier. He says that it’s not so much that we’re punk music. More, he says that punk was always meant as an attitude. Of being individual, of just going for it, of just totally doing your own thing. ‘I really see that in you guys,’ he says. And there’s more. Much much more. As me and Maja go our separate ways to better work the room, we meet the guys who specially came to see us. Reera (I’m certain I spelt that wrong), Cras, who filmed the video of Rock’n’Roll Tree and Padraig. I believe there were a few more too. Among all this I get a massively enthusiastic review of ourselves saying that we are totally on our way and headed for serious places. ‘I’m not the guy to do that,’ my companion says, ‘But you will meet that person. And soon. I’m telling you.’ Man, it is so nice when the faith is coming from someone other than yourselves.

As we hang around and go deeper into the vibrant evening, there are other chats, and people saying they might be able to hook us up with this or that venue or this or that promoter, and the Daves say we are very much in their minds now for future shows. And we also hear the word on a load of open mics and other contacts in Dublin from a chat I have with Ross who makes it clear he doesn’t claim influence, but says that he will pass us on some details that we really should chase up. And true to his word, he does. Cras sends us the amazingly shot video, Ken says he’ll mention us in his blog, and by Sunday, without any notice, we’re just up on the Instagram site of the Tullamore Arts Society. There’s been so much here tonight that has seems to have suddenly elevated us into a place where things just feel that little bit more real.

And one of those videos from Crass
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIjQ81X8dzs

OK. We’re building on our German experience now. We’ve worked on our level and are finding out that our thing really does have the capacity to hit. It did in Germany a few times as well to be fair. Maybe there will always be gigs that don’t quite work, but even in some of our shows that haven’t made it so big, we still felt there were one or two people who were really into it. And then we have something like tonight, with people following us here, and paying to see us after catching us somewhere else. That’s a whole new thing. And taking tonight after pulling off The Lantern, a venue we were told even seasoned cover musicians saw as a tough crowd. Yeah, I think we have this now

Day 57
Sunday April 24

We’ve noticed the occasional creaking sound at the end of our guitar recordings. I have to stay absolutely still to prevent it from happening. But that’s not so easy during songs when there are quiet, or stop/start sections. Little noises have been creeping in there too. I’ve been trying to minimise this in the studio by making sure I’m not wearing anything with buttons, like a shirt. No belt for trousers, and no buttoned trousers either. But still that noise. We discover it’s the strap moving just ever so slightly around where it’s attached to the guitar. Maja comes up with a genius idea to fix this. Put a cut open sock on the ends of each strap and attach them to the guitar through the socks. Now I can move around all I want in front of the most sensitive microphones and there’s no unwanted noise at all I now also have a guitar sock. Come on. Rock’n’roll.

Day 58
Tuesday April 27

I’m on my own for another week or so with Maja having left yesterday for a ten day visit back to Sweden. Top of my to do list is to basically record as much guitar as I can. I’m fairly confident I’ll at least be able to get all the guitar parts down in this time and maybe even one or two bass parts two. I get to really setting things up today, all ready to just blast it down. To continue with her own things, Maja’s taken her interface with her and I’ve got mine. I get to it and after a little while I discover that – well, let’s not get too technical and boring here – my interface doesn’t record in the same way hers does. Which will probably render anything I record on it unusable if we’re going to go for commercially viable levels of quality and consistency. Which we are. At first this is very frustrating because this was the main thing I was planning on doing with my time alone. But then I realise there is plenty I can still do, even if it’s just prep. I can do pretty damn good levels of practice and preparation with what I have. I’m not going to make predictions or get ahead of myself, but yeah, I’m still good with what I have here, just a different kind of good. I’ll take that.

Day 61
Friday April 29

Studio today and the sock falls off the guitar. This is possibly the first time anyone’s ever said or written that in the history of guitars. And yes. That is the most exciting and diary worthy thing that happens today.

Day 66
Wednesday May 4

Maja’s back today and wants to do absolutely nothing. Fair enough.

Day 67
Thursday May 5

Out to buy drumkit and three shops including Dublin
Do we want to write about this?

Day 72
Tuesday May 10

We’re supposed to be playing in The Trap tomorrow but we’ve been checking and there are no posters up and no mention of us on their website. We decide to cancel as it looks like no-one knows we’re playing. We meet Jimmy there and he tells us they lost the posters. ‘But people know alright,’ he says. Word has got around. But if you could bring more and we’ll get them up, that would be good. OK. We’re back on again, not as if we were ever really off, except maybe in our own minds. However, he asks if we could put our time back to 9:30 from 7:30 as one of Clara’s soccer teams has a big match and everyone will be at that. Cool. Done.

Day 73
Wednesday May 11

And what a gig it turns out to be. Fantastic attendance with a massive anticipation around the place for seeing us. And we meet it head on and in full. Huge reactions to everything and, at the end of it all, three encore shouts, two of which we respond to. I’m fortunate enough to have quite a lot of experience of triple encore calls. And in that experience, the third rarely goes well and you end up wishing you’d stopped at two. So we do, and still leave them wanting more.

This is also the first outing of our brilliant new backdrop which adds a whole new level to our stage appearance.

A few highlights of this one.

First, there are many shout outs for I Like You (Better When You’re Naked). So we play it early on, then of course it gets a massive call for when the encore shouts begin. And yes, we play it again.

Almost everyone here tonight came out just to see us, with one guy leaving work early in Dublin to be able to get here in time, and a few other people coming from 10 miles away and beyond.

The last time we played in here was November 5 last year, which happens to have been our first ever show. Fully six months ago. So it’s incredible for us when someone requests one of the songs we played that night – Bang Bang. Which we actually wrote entirely by accident the night before that show. They don’t call it out by name, instead saying, play that one you did without any music. Yep. That’s Bang Bang alright. Even more remarkable, we don’t even do that one anymore, or at least we haven’t done it for quite a while. So I’m sorry to report that we’re unable to meet this request for one of our own songs.

We have had this quite a bit at other shows, but it’s so cool to be able to say again, that we have people all around trying to sing along to songs they’ve never heard before. We know, because some of those songs we’ve never played in here before.

The total time for this show clocks in at 50 minutes. That’s 50 minutes of people hearing songs they’ve never heard before – apart from I Like You (Better When You’re Naked). But when we announce we’re at our last two songs, a whole bunch of disappointment is directed at us. After which, yes, we get all the encore calls.

And yes, at 50 minutes, this becomes our longest ever show, unless you count what we did at Bei Theresa in Hamburg, but really, that one just felt like a glorified rehearsal.

The hat really is getting some actual respect. We did well at The Lantern back in the middle of April and very much again here tonight. I think for the first time we’re realising we can actually make money doing exactly what we’re doing right now.

Day 77
Sunday May 15

There’s a coverband playing a mid afternoon show in the back garden of The Trap today and we go there for a really cool return as time and again we’re congratulated on our midweek show. We even get introduced to some people as the next Oasis. We’ll take that. After the coverband has finished their set, the stage at the back of the garden is left tantalisingly empty. As the DJ turns the volume up, me and Maja walk up the slightly spiralled ramp which leads to the side of the stage and basically get busy dancing all over it. After a while a few regulars come and join us. A little while after that when we think we’re done and go to walk down the ramp we’re very much told, no. You guys get back up on that stage. And so we do as Maja discovers she’s now very much the centre of attention, a role I think she’s decided she very much relishes in. When we finally do come down, I take off to the bar. When I look back, expecting to see Maja right behind me, I see she’s somewhat disappeared into a crowd of people who have welcomed her off the stage.

Day 78
Monday May 16

The Diary’s going to have a slightly different feel for a little while maybe. After a bit of a flurry of gigging activity, we’re not really trying to do much more right now than record. We don’t think anyone really wants a full blow by blow account of the studio, and it could also get quite confusing as we’re working on all the songs simultaneously; a vocal on this one, then that one, then a drum track on this one, then a bit of mixing and production over here and so on. So what we’re thinking is going track by track in here at the end of recording and maybe talking a bit about the experience of laying each one down. Most of the days we don’t write anything, assume we had our heads down in the studio, or maybe relaxing between studio days, because we really are about to get very busy in there.

Day 82
Friday May 20

Yeah. It’s kind of like this. A long and tough studio day today and we decide to go to The Trap for a quiet drink to take things in and decompress a little. We walk in and, rather than finding a chilled atmosphere we discover a full on band is playing and the place is packed. What have we missed. We quickly retreat to the street. A quick glance at our phones tells us it’s Friday. Damn. We thought it was Wednesday. It’s quite possible one of us even thought it was Tuesday.

Day 89
Friday May 27

We’ve been hitting the studio really hard for a while now and learning a lot. This is taking a lot longer than we thought it would and it’s going to take a lot longer yet. There is so much more to do and learn than we had possibly began to imagine at the start. As such we’ve been discovering that this is what it’s really all about at the moment. Learning how to use the thing – on so many levels – and, in some cases, just learning how to work together in what can at times be a bit of a pressure cooker environment where sometimes there are no right or wrong answers but where everyone has an opinion. We’re also really trying to figure out how we actually sound as a band; all this time we’ve been operating as a one acoustic guitar act, but suddenly we’re throwing bass and drums into the mix along with maybe a couple of other subtle elements. How does this rhythm section interact with us and how do we interact with it? What is this whole thing supposed to sound like? These are questions we’re wrestling with all over the place as we recruit a virtual bassist and drummer and they’re made up of the same people – me and Maja. For bass I’m playing and coming up with the parts, with Maja’s input as well. And it’s the same with the drums. We’re using midi drums for this but with real drum sounds recorded from source. It’s a big beast to tame and something Maja was working on for over a year to try to figure out. So even at what feels like an early stage in our midi drum journey, she’s already been on it a year. It’s only in this past phase of sessions that we’ve been able to work with them in a coherent way. And we’ve been doing that together. It’s been like trying to tame an enormous beast, finally getting it to bend to your command, and then trying to figure out what exactly you actually want to command it to do, while essentially still trying to work out all the details of the game.

With this and everything else it’s fair to say we’ve been getting incrementally fried, and we’re feeling done. For now.

So we’re taking a day or two totally off. Kinda. With that we take a drive to Ferbane, a village about 20 minutes away. We want to go and visit a few different places and maybe have a look at a bar or two. No hustling. Absolutely no hustling. But we may talk to some people, if you can give that another name please.

After walking up and down the peaceful roads of Ferbane we decide to go and have a look at a bar called Henneseys. It’s a decent sized front bar with a large restaurant out back and we’re able to have a quick chat with Fionulla, the manager. We’re not looking for gigs. We are NOT on the hustle. But we introduce ourselves to her anyway and she really likes the sound of what we’re doing and says yes, come back and try to organise something when you want to get onto that.

Ferbane really wasn’t that big, so now we decide to take a drive to Birr and see what that place is all about.

Well, what can we say about Birr? In population terms it’s not even twice the size of Clara and almost a third the size of Tullamore. But damn it has a lot of bars and we get a positive reaction from just about every one of them. By the time we’re done, Birr could well be our new favourite place. Who knew? We walk round the town and at pop our heads into most of the bars. Sometimes we do more than that. In a fair few of them we’re able to have a chat with a manager and one or two regulars.

In one bar we meet a customer called Speedy. He hears our pitch to the manager – we’re kinda on the hustle again, or at least introducing ourselves with intent, whatever you would call that. What can I say? We can’t help ourselves. We bump into him on the street as we’re leaving and he gives us a rundown of the bars of almost the whole town. This gives us a very good list to start with. He says it’s so great to meet people who are doing their own thing and having a go and he’s happy to do his bit to help.

I think it’s also fair to say we’re starting to develop a bit of quiet confidence in what we do. In one bar, the pitch – or whatever it is today because we are definitely not hustling – is going well and the manager says, ‘So you do a bit of everything?’ ‘No,’ I reply absolutely straight. ‘We only do our own thing.’ We get a bit of a nod of acceptance and respect from that as it goes. ‘I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a go,’ he says. Thankyou very much. We’ll be back.

And on and on it goes with people just being impressed that we’ve come here and we’re having a go at having a go and doing our own thing.

Yep. Birr. We will be back.

Day 90
Saturday May 28

Out for another countryside walk today. We head towards the larger town of Mullingar (pop: 21,000). There are a few lakes dotted about around the outer edges of this town so we quite fancy a gentle countryside stroll. We find one of the larger areas, park the car next to a beautiful good sized lake and head into the woods. However, all is not quite as calm as we were looking for. We’ve landed here bang in the centre of the local music festival and, as we’re walking around trying to enjoy nature and calm our thoughts, the air is vibrating with bass drums and electronic music. I’m quite liking the contrast in ambience but Maja is finding it just upsets what she was hoping would be a tranquil mood. ‘No,’ she says after about 20 minutes. ‘This really isn’t working. I need to get out of here.’ That’s a shame, but understood. So back in the car it is. We’re gonna go check out Mullingar and see if we think we can do any damage here.

Well yes, we do believe we can is the conclusion. Where Birr was a lot of lovely, older style traditional bars, Mullingar is very much of the times and a lot of the places feel like slick city bars. We drop into quite a few but while yesterday we hit the town in mid afternoon and all was quiet and we were able to chat to people, this time we’ve arrived early evening on a Saturday and things are quite a bit livelier. But that’s OK. We’re just on a kind of fact finding, vibe feeling mission. The vibes are good and the facts will speak for themselves when it comes time to try our hands here. For now, yes, we’re also getting a really good feel for Mullingar and have a pretty good idea of what bars we might well have a go at first when we return.

By the time we get back to Clara, the soccer Champions League final is just about to begin. Oh OK. Why not. We pop into The Trap, the decision to head there made easier by their advertisement of a barbecue out back. That will do us just nicely thankyou very much. But more than that. We get out there and discover it’s free. Yep. Free hamburgers and a great seat and table from which to be able to see the big match. A great way to conclude our two days off and two wonderful days of definitely not hustling.

Day 94 – 124
June. Just June

As the month develops we get deep into album territory. This is where we often lose track of time and declare we should take a break for a snack or something, only to discover it’s 10pm, or maybe even later. This includes one day when we decide to do a roast dinner, only to discover it’s past 11pm by the time we emerge. That’s fine. Put the oven on. We’ll do it now. Dinner comes out of the oven around 2am. Yep. This is what it’s like now. While this is the most extreme example of how things are going now, it’s also a pretty good indication of where we are. And each day when we go to bed, that night’s sleep just feels like a necessary interruption before we begin again. Sometimes not much more than a glorified nap with thoughts already deep into the next day. As soon as we wake up we know what to do and we know how we want to do it and we’re almost directly back to the studio. Yes there are days when we get smashed by tiredness or allergies or some such thing and do little more than stay in and around bed all day. But on the whole, as June rocks on and on we roll with it, you could say we’re somewhat starting to find our rhythm.

During the month, Maja has a great idea. What will become known as the ‘Now hustle.’ So far we’ve been booking shows for a week or so in advance, and then turning up on the appointed day with all our gear, to set up and play them. So far so conventional. Maja’s idea changes all this. What if we just turn up at places and offer to play them there and then? And turn up totally prepared. Which means one speaker, which we’ll carry in a backpack, bought specially for that purpose. So we take ourselves off to the biggest sports and outdoor shop in Tullamore and find exactly what she was thinking of. So now we can walk semi conspicuously into a venue with one of us carrying a guitar and the other one wearing a backpack. Who would know? Make the pitch and say we’ll play there and then. No idea how many songs we would do. Maybe 20 minutes worth? Pass the hat, pack up and then onto the next place. We have the backpack, we have the speaker, we have the guitar. And we have just about the right amount of cheek and confidence to go with all that. You know what? It might just work.

Day 125
Friday July 1

We’re up and about and I’m all ready for another day in the studio when Maja suddenly says, ‘I want to gig tonight.’

So, rather than working on the album today, we get busy seeing what a set could look like and working on that. Which means only the smashiest of smash set songs. We’re thinking of a top length of six songs per show, maybe fewer. And hoping to play at least three shows. We’re also going to have Maja on the mic, but myself unplugged. We’re not anticipating massively busy bars so we’re confident this will work. People often play acoustic and unplugged. We’re just giving Maja a bit of an extra mic boost so that she doesn’t have to blow her voice. We rehearse a bit later than intended, and then it’s time to get our gear together and leave. But we’ve never done this before so the organisation also takes a bit longer than intended. We’re not ready to leave until sometime between 6:30 and 7. Meaning we don’t even arrive in Birr until around 7:30. Way too late to make any real impact, we think, but we’ll just get started and see what we can do.

The very first bar we go into, the manager says he doesn’t feel comfortable with the concept of the hat, but he likes that we’re trying to do our own thing. The place is really busy right now so he invites us to call him later in a few days and arrange a show, for which he’ll be happy to pay us. He also says that when we do come back and play, we can sit in the corner and be something like pleasant background music. We thank him very much and leave, with no intention to call. Fair enough to everything he said, but right now for us, this is all about the hat. But also, damn. There’s no way we’re going somewhere to be background music.

We go right into the bar next door where there’s just four people in the place. But we’ve already decided we’re not going to let that put us off. Four people plus a bar staff is four people plus a bar staff to help spread the word. It all counts. The manager in here is up for it, but asks us to come back at 10 when there will be more people in here. OK. That works. First gig in the book tonight. We leave them posters and beer mats. We’re in and we’re on.

Now we head down the high street and into a bar called The Palace where we meet bar manager Nadia. She’s well into it and says we can come back and play at 9. Great.

It’s approaching eight now and we have two gigs in the book. We go nearby to a bar called Molloys where there’s just five or six people spread across the bar. Never mind. We do out pitch. ‘You’re talking about playing now?’ Asks the manager. Yep. ‘Sure, you can do that,’ he says. ‘There’s a bunch of guys out back. If they want to see what you can do, you can play for them.’ Great. We head out back and find a large concrete garden with a bunch of guys in their early 20s sitting around a big round table watching rap videos. They’re all attention as we tell then what we’d like to do and they’re well up for it. One of them goes and turns the TV off and they wait expectantly for us to start. We’re right into it with Six Sense Lover, and yes, they’re with us. We carry on through another three songs, declare we’re done and they want more. All through this, various people from the front bar have been coming out to see what’s going on. We give the boys here their encore, then produce the hat. They almost fall over each other to put into it and we’re not just talking coins either. This is a decent haul from a great start. They also give us the heads up on a few venues we should check out. Brilliant. Thanks a lot guys. We’re on it.

From here we get to The Palace quickly to see Nadia and tell her we’ll be running a little late as we have some places to check out before our show in here at 9. No problem. The first bar we were told to look at is insanely busy. The manager meets us and takes our card, but really, there’s no chance to chat and really hustle here. I leave them to it.

The next place is Kellys nearby. It’s quietish now and the manager, John, is interested but wants to see what we have to offer first. He wants to hear at least one song. ‘Go and rattle away in that corner there and we’ll see how we go,’ he says. We don’t set up the speaker. Instead, I hang back a little with the guitar and Maja stands on the corner of the L shaped bar, right in the middle of the people sitting at it and facing the bar staff. I Like You (Better When You’re Naked). What else? We blast through half of it and climax at the end of the second chorus rather than going all the way to the end. This is enough. The place erupts and John says, ‘Very good. I’ll see you guys at 11.’

So that’s it. Having arrived in town a little after 7:30, we now have shows at 9, 10 and 11, and did our first one at 8. And we’ve just shown what we can do in this bar to get that show at 11. That also counts as a performance. But now we’re actually in a rush. It’s already way past nine and we have to do this next show, make it to our 10 O’Clock, then round it all off at 11.

The Palace goes so well that Nadia immediately books us again. For 11am gig for Monday, July 11. That’s eleven of the A and the M. OK.

Now we pack up as quickly as we can and take ourselves to our 10pm where we discover they’d forgotten they already had something on so we were double booked. No problem. We’ll see if we can do Kellys early. We can. It’s 10:30 by the time we get started in there so pretty close to the booked time so all good. The reaction in here is huge with two encore shouts and John, the ever so sceptical at the beginning manager almost dancing his way around the place. And again, the hat does its work, just as it did in Mollys and The Palace. Including the audition, that’s four shows around here tonight with another one booked that didn’t quite make it. And from a standing start at 7:30. Damn. And the hat has done really well for us. This is a thing now.

A big takeaway from tonight is that we have to be better organised with how we organise and carry things. A few times we were asked for cards, or wanted to give beer mats, or just give cards around a bar, and we had to scramble a bit to find them. We also found ourselves rushing to pack up a bit a couple of times, meaning we then had a bit of trouble setting up quickly at the next place. We just need to tighten ourselves up a little bit on all this. It’s all about the percentages in the details. And it’s nights like this that let you know exactly what you need to sharpen up on to pick up those percentages. On the way home as we reflect on tonight, we also conclude that four songs is pretty much optimum, with one more to be added for an encore. We also decide not to hustle any of the bars we play for future gigs. No. Instead, hit a town and move onto the next one. Otherwise we could find ourselves bouncing between towns all the time playing this or that single gig that we booked, when we could be in some new place hustling a whole bunch of gigs on the spot, just like we’ve done tonight.

Now going to try to catch last orders at The Trap. Well, we do, but we’re only just settling in when people start to ask if we could bring the guitar and carry on in here. We resist, but the requests become a clamour. OK. We’re doing this. I bring the guitar back and we do another set, totally unamplified this time with me hanging back and Maja giving it her all out front. And for the fifth time tonight we totally smash it. I think we’ll take that for a result. Just so much bigger, better and way more vast than anything we could have expected when we left the house, especially as late as we did. And yes, we’ve also brought in a lot more money than we could have imagined from doing this. People, we’ve taken totally our own songs, own vibe and our own style. And it’s happening. We are doing this.

Day 126
Saturday July 2

Just decompressing and going over yesterday. First, just an amazing experience and result. And yes, as covered yesterday, we learned a lot, not least in how we could do it with just that bit more more slickness. But we have also seen if this is viable, and yes it is. Now we know for a fact that we can go out, play shows on the spot in the way we want, and make money.

We conclude that if we can just get out there enough and continue doing what we did yesterday, we can totally make a living out of this now. And that is a big, no, huge, moment to have arrived at. But now we have to concentrate on the studio for a little while longer. Yesterday was really about satisfying that curiosity itch as to how much this could actually work. Now we know it can, we get back to work.

Day 132
Friday July 8

We decide to have another go at that instant gig/hat thing. This time we’re going to try Athlone, the second biggest town in Ireland’s midlands region. The biggest is Portlaoise, the third is Mullingar and the fourth is our own Tullamore.

After a couple of places in which the manager isn’t in and so it’s almost a waste of time to hustle, we come to The Brazen Monkey. We were deliberately heading in this direction as we’ve heard in previous visits how this was a new place that would welcome new music, and so it proves to be. And it certainly does all look brand shiny new and all refurbed. However, the manager would like to hear at least something of a song first. We do our half of Naked thing and yep. Come back at 8:30. It’s about seven now. Cool. A bit more hustling to see what else we can shake out, while having one in the book.

What follows is a slightly frustrating time with few managers being around tonight. Then we come to a bar that says yeah, sure. Go for it. Great. We start setting up, then the person who said yes comes back. Turns out that person was a supervisor, and the manager has told them no. Apparently another band has been booked and is about to arrive. I can confidently report (giving all benefit of the doubt while others may not) a band could have been booked but none arrives. We know for an absolute fact that no band arrives.

We’ve got time for one more hustle and we decide to hit a place called Vals. This is a quiet locals type bar but we checked it out a while ago, had quite a positive response and were encouraged to come and try to play should we ever return to the area. Well, here we are. We go and meet Val once more and he says that yes, absolutely. Come back at 10/10:30 and do your thing. Great. Now for The Brazen Monkey.

We arrive and the vast bar is practically empty. Oh. OK. No worries though, says Gary, the manager. There’s a big crowd coming at 9. Hold off and then you can play for them. Oh wow. Cool. We have our speaker with us for Maja’s vocals but Gary’s adamant we won’t need any amplification at all. Just do your thing, he says. But no. We mic the vocals thankyou very much. So we set up and wait.

Nine comes, and so does the promised crowd. A lot, a lot of them. Enough to totally fill the bar. It looks promising until we realise that there’s very little reaction to a live act being on. Not only very little reaction, they don’t even seem that aware that we’re here. Also, up to now we’ve been playing much smaller bars to not so many people and where you could reasonably expect to play totally unplugged. Although Maja does have a mic, which is how we’re set up in here. We get started and people around us are into it, but that doesn’t last too long – two songs at most before we realise we’re doing little more than playing to ourselves – as the people out front keep pounding the jagermeisters. They’ve just got off the boat – literally. One of those Viking type trips and they’re clearly well into their evening. I try to take the show to them and disappear into the thick crowd with the guitar while Maja continues singing from the stage. It’s like this. I can go where I want because I’m