::: Exclusive Feature :::

Feb 28th
Strangely, I resurrect at 8am by my phone and hang my key up outside the empty paradise office. I wonder how England got on against Ireland in the rugby international yesterday. There are a dozen or so very over refreshed Irish lads still spinning out of the pub opposite where we ate steak but their general demeanour is not one of over joy. Might we have nicked it, I wonder. After my breakfast, I wander up the road to find Richard and he is fast asleep where we left the car with his head back and I reach through the open car window and tap him on the shoulder. He slowly surfaces and we wander back to the breakfast bar where more Irish lads are forcing down a bit of toast and trying to forget that they have been on at least a twelve hour session. Richard asks for his key and I tell him it is locked in the Paranoid Backscratcher’s Hellhole. Somehow he manages to persuade the absentee landlord to open it up to a stranger he cannot even see and Richard retrieves his belongings and we head off to Canberra.
The journey takes about 3.5 hours and we drive through unbelievable rain and hail. On arrival we are told that flood damage has caused too much mayhem to the hotel and we are transferred to a place next door, which has somehow survived. Until today there has been a five-year drought and this is the most hail etc they have seen for 100 years. Inevitably my visit is blamed and a persistent good vibe prevails. Tonight I return to the Southern Cross Club where I have played many times before.
Amongst my minimalist-touring luggage is my front of house rack in a flight case (FOHR). This has been rigged and wired for me by Donard. It is an encumbrance but very necessary. It will help me feel at home via my ‘in ears monitor system’ so that I should have consistency in what I hear from my on stage position. Every thing works out, although my very young opening act struggled a bit. His name was Billy Dunmore and he and his dad are a working duo some of the time. I do hope my Billy is keeping up with his practice. The evening goes by at a lick and we have about 240 people in the place so a good start. We eventually find a place for a quiet drink on the way back to the hotel and I hit the sack around 1.45.

Feb29th
The following morning I finally collect my emails and catch up with all the news at home. Nanna is going to meet me out here in about a week and she has had to put our little dog Molly into kennels in Cornwall and close down the office apart from Beryl and Joanna who will mind the shop. Nanna has been to Oz once before but there was always someone in the family to look after Molly. Molly’s only a dog but because she can drive a car and speak fluent French and play Ragtime guitar I think she is very special and it fills me with guilt to leave her behind. I know I don’t have to worry because she loves the kennels and leaps out of the car without a backward glance, so all should be well.
The reason no one is around at the moment is that our three children and all eight grandchildren have emigrated in the last few months. Our eldest Sam is still studying at UCL but Leah and Jim have moved to Paris. Tom and Anna have moved to Thailand and Billy and Lucy have gone to South Africa. The purpose of this Australian trip was two fold. To see my Aussie audience and have a short Holiday in Australia at the end. Now our plan is to call in to Thailand (as you do) on our way back, to see the children.
Nanna and I needless to say are dying to see them and Danny Thompson and his wife will be joining us for part of our trip so there is some compensation in our family’s Diaspora.

1st March
Tonight’s concert is like an “Up Close” gig. It is being presented in the Diggers club at Wollongong. The local folk club are putting on the show and they are hoping for eighty people. We commence sound check and to spare you the boring details it is an absolute nightmare. The well meaning engineer from last night’s gig has separated and un plugged the wiring loom from the back of the FOHR and this evening’s engineer cannot put it back together to make it work. After one hour no sound check has even begun. Suffice to say we cobble some monitoring together after probably losing days off our mutual life expectancy. I phone Donard in England for help. It is eight o’clock there and he explains again. There is no time to make more changes and the show begins. The opening act is called Patty Bone and is very professional and good. There is a bloody raffle at the half and I eventually get on stage after two hours and we are under way. We have a disturbed adult in the crowd who helpfully shouts encouragement after certain tunes. Richard eventually gets him to desist. There are closing remarks from the president of the folk society. But somehow the show goes off very well, I meet and greet some of the folks and the disturbed adult who is really out there, but he is happy too. The folk club are delighted because the audience figure was 112.
Richard and I find an RSL club and keep it open for another hour coming down from our tense start. Back at the motel I soon am asleep about 2 am and woken by the prattle of a chambermaid on her cell phone for 15 minutes loud chat outside my door. It is seven am.

2nd March
This woman begins shouting down her phone again around 8 so I get up and shower. What is she on about? Minute detail that is so boring, is it really worth broadcasting to the Motel residents? No, it is just a version of the old chambermaid trick of getting you to move out of your room so that they can finish early. In hotels it consists of banging frequently into your door with an activated vacuum cleaner or pretending that ‘the do not disturb’ notice has fallen back under your door. Richard has also been awakened and we toddle off to find some breakfast before ascending the huge hill that leads out of Wollongong to Sydney.
It is a pleasant journey and we are soon at a low budget but very friendly guesthouse. There is a clientele of young backpackers and a plain and simple house with plain wooden floors. Communal breakfast room and no AC. I check my emails for the first time in ages. All is well and “Bridge of Sighs” is ready to go into production whilst I am away. It is very hot and Richard comes home with overripe peaches and some yoghurt and we have a cup of tea in the kitchen and discuss the evening show whilst perspiring gently.
The Gay and lesbian Mardi Gras is happening and apart from bringing big bucks to the city there is no room at any inns and we are fortunate to get in here. It also enables us to drive to the Town Hall at Liechardt via the back streets because much of the through routes of the city are sealed off.
We arrive in due course at the Town Hall and it is a lovely old place. I can imagine the pride of the locals when it was built. It has very high windows and an ornate ceiling which is its only decoration. There is a high narrow stage and hard seats for the audience. I am working with Tony a sound man and good soundman too. We have worked together before and he soon has my IEMS working and I am confident all will be well tonight.
Suddenly there is the sound of a squadron of hurricanes overhead as another planeload of gay and lesbian tourists hurtle overhead to the main Sydney airport. My heart sinks momentarily. Everything was looking so good and now I fear the sound of landing aeroplanes will spoil the night as we are directly under the flight path!
My old friend and often times support act, the very excellent Pat Drummond phones to say he is delayed with all the diversions for the parade and we commence sound check. All goes well except I lose about five pounds just sitting on stage. The air does not seem to move here and to keep out the planes we check with the doors closed. Tonight I must perform with the lighting rig on stage with me, as there is no front bar for F.O.H. lights. I am so glad I am not wearing my black leather trousers. (I don’t have any black leather trousers any way) I once saw Dick Gaughan almost melt on a hot day at the Cambridge festival when he was wearing black leather trousers. I am wearing black jeans and my nice black shirt tonight. I take out my nice black shirt and am reminded that it weighs about five pounds. There is no back stage room and our combined dressing room and production office is moved to the kitchen. I am reminded of my last kitchen dressing room some where in Germany at the Café Pinguine. I resolved at that time I would never again have to dress in the kitchen. Ho Hum!
Pat Drummond arrives. It is really good to see him. We compare family notes, all is as well as families ever are and he is up for the show and now so am I.

Pat Drummond, Rory McCloud, Danny Thompson and Ralph

We are all but sold out and the night is a success although I over ran as I confused the signal that Richard was holding a glass of water for me with the sign that I was to finish. I had to go back and played a total of I hour 50 minutes. The poor audience were allowed to escape into a cooler evening and my five lbs shirt was now 10lbs, my jeans soaked and I was very dehydrated. Good show and off to find somewhere to eat down the Parramatta road. Everything was gesloshen but much gay and lesbian jollity everywhere. We found a take away Indian place and had lentils and rice. Back to the guest house and collapsed into a bedraggled heap after a glass or two of wine. Set the electric fan and slept till eight-ish. I am sure I am over my virus although I am still coughing.