Last year, on the way to a gig, I asked Gérard the furthest distance he’d ever travelled for a gig. (I was thinking single gigs, not organised tours.) I remember him saying “Toulouse”.
Last week, we smashed that record.
At exactly this time on Saturday, we were half way to the southeast coast of France. It was ten hours there and nine hours back. We did get to stay in a hotel overnight but we didn’t set foot on the beach. The only proof I can show that we went is this newspaper I picked up at breakfast:
During the break in our set, one of the guests came up and asked if we could play a party in Dorset, England. (A possibility that set up the chance that we could smash our own record.) But this potential new record was topped by another guest at the end of the show. He came up and asked if we travel. “Yes,” we said. “Great,” he replied. “We’re getting married in three weeks. In Seattle, USA.”
If it gets confirmed, I promise I’ll bring back the paper.