Night Bus

Yesterday, Paul, Robert, John and Smeg from King Kurt had a meeting at our house about releasing a CD of old stuff. I haven't seen Smeg for ages and it was really nice to see him again. He got stressed at one point in the discussions, left the room, and volunteered to do the ironing for me; the only thing is, I don't really iron, so I couldn't help him out there. So we sat and chatted instead and he tried to swap his original Gretsch Double Anniversary for my repro one plus my Hofner acoustic. I can only assume the vast quantities of Bourbon he had swallowed made him think that this was a remote possibility.
His ironing offer reminds me of when a friend was going out with a tram conductor from Melbourne, who knew Nick Cave at the time of his dabblings with strong drugs. Nick went round their house once, when they were changing the bedlinen, and showed my friend how to do hospital corners.
Last night I was remembering the night bus I used to get home after clubbing (the going out sort, not the kill-the-baby-seals type). It used to drive down the Kilburn High Road, with the driver yelling out 'Anyone for Dyne Road?' and so on, so we all got dropped off at the end of our street. He also used to stop outside the Kentucky Fried Chicken so hungry passengers could rush off, buy some food and climb back on again to continue their journey. Bless!
The wonderful Caroline Coon has contacted me again about the book, and suggested we have a big dinner party with all the interviewees invited, all under one powerpacked roof. What a brilliant idea! I'm sure the roof will burst off and go into orbit!