Saturday 23rd of November - At home

This is the first entry that I've written at home. I'm at my desk. Melbourne's doing that classic 'it's raining, no it's not' thing. I've planted my summer vegetables. Let's see how many make it past the snail army that descends every time I plant something… The run of Victorian shows have been pretty special. I had high expectations for our Thornbury gig. Our ultimate home game. The Hawks playing out at Waverley on a Saturday in late August, the pointy end of the season, sometime in the 80s, rain falling in sheets across the ground and the centre square black with mud. Yessssss! I kept reminding myself that it was just another gig. That it may not reach my expectations. But it did. It was a magical night. All of those elusive elements that go into making a show a good one seemed to align and we felt like our hard work over the last eighteen months or so to get this tour off the ground was all worth it. Our partners and friends were there. And so were the fans that helped us on our way to begin with, the mob that has been there since all three of us started playing. Here in Melbourne. It felt like a nice way to celebrate the last decade or so with them. The stage was a raft in an ocean of support and warmth. It was so lovely. And so was the after party at our place… 


The next day we trudged, bleary eyed, to Geelong. Tim picked me up. I'd had not much sleep. I suffer from sleep deprivation because of my fondness for drink and conversation. Tim suffers from it due to having a child. I certainly whinge more, so I must be suffering at the higher rate… At least that's what I keep telling Tim. We arrived at Beav's Bar, an unknown to us all. It sounded great in there.  We set up in the corner, kind of diagonally opposite the bar, couches lined up against the high brick wall in rows on the other side of the room. Retro art and memorabilia was hung everywhere. It felt vibrant and cosy. Who said electric pink and red don't go together?! We weren't sure about ticket sales yet. Would G-Troit deliver? The answer was yes. Murdena, a fantastic local band, opened in duo mode with the room rapidly filling and by the time we played it was packed with dedicated Sunday punters, half lounging on the comfortable couches, some standing and the rest sitting on the ground in front of the stage. I didn't know whether I could summon the energy but as Michael Barclay, drummer for the Livingstone Daisies, would say, I was again 'saved by rock'. As soon as we started a wave of adrenaline rushed into my veins and I was swept along on it. Danny was rockin' it like only a local drummer can. He's a G-Town boy these days. The gig was a ripper. As were the magic pills that my friend and naturopath Renee gave me for my voice. Cloher and I popped one before the gig and both reckon it made us sing heaps good. 


Last night Balnarring, tonight in Drouin, tomorrow Healesville. And then off to Tasi, SA and WA. Only 12 more gigs. It's flown. We've flown. A lot. Still not a Gold Velocity member, damn you Virgin. Seriously, the muesli in the Virgin Lounge is AWESOME. We've wangled our way into the lounge a few times even though only Dyse and Keegan are Gold. The Virgin staff particularly seem to like Danny, who's charmed his way in a few times. What is it with beards? I've always said that if I was a bloke I'd have a beard. What a cool thing to add to your 'hair reportoire'. But I digress. I'm really looking forward to these last gigs. Time to bring it home.