Offsprog Two and I have spent a substantial part of the day scrubbing a lunar landscape of slimy black and grey mould from the walls of her room, and bundling stuff up in bags to take to the laundrette. The room looks a lot better, but how long for?
The rags we cleaned with are wrung out, the bucket tidied away, and I'm home after a detour to catch up with Sally, who used to mix our live sound and who was just as much a Horn as the Horns themselves. We did a lot of touring together and Sally did most of the driving too. She was and is amazing; one of her claims to fame is telling Billy Bragg that it'd never work: he needed a band. She said today that later on when he became successful he had sent her a no-hard-feelings type postcard.
Sally managed to be funny and sane at the same time and was usually the only person on the little tour bus who was the latter.
What a strange life it was, driving up and down motorways, unpacking the van, blowing horns and singing at people and then getting back in the van and driving off again.
Mad.
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