The quaint little shops have their beautiful baked bread on display and the morning after revelers wipe the sleep from their eyes and begin lazy strolls down cramped winding streets from centuries past. I like watching the proud shop owners sweep up in front of their stores and rush about getting ready for the day. The sun is out and proud like a gay parade and there's not even a hint of rain on the horizon. They're playing Fleetwood Mac Rumours in its entirety on the sound system In the place where I'm eating brekkie. Damn that was a great record. I love love love Christine Mcvie's voice. It covers me in a blanket of melancholy nostalgia and warmth. Kind of like The pic of this street I just took.
Last night's show in Falmouth was a blast. I'm trying to spread the idea of house concerts over here. They might call them lounge room shows but I call them living room shows. I think it's going to work. I want to come back in about six months and do another tour. Glenn Tilbrook is so fun to tour with. His band mates are amazingly supercalifragistic men from outer space toting instruments and weapons and illegal fireworks and they're charming to the the Nth degree. It's a love fest. Last night we met a woman at a bar who was also a man. She / he regaled us of tales of travel and art and she said her name was Trinity. Everyone was smiling and everyone was happy. The bartender put on Bob Dylan singing The Girl From The North Country. Holy shit that's a great song. I asked him to turn it up as loud as possible and play it again after it ended and he graciously complied. Then we all sang Baby Let Me Follow You Down off of Bob Dylan's first album he put out. It's a traditional song that was arranged by Eric Von Schmidt. Get Dylan's first record and crank this song. We sang it at the top of our lungs last night with our arms around each other. It was one of those moments. Freeze it in time and save the memory for low times and inject it into the brain memory bank when needed. I gotta go my scones just arrived.