Last night under this sky for a while… off to the desert tomorrow for a few hours and then the steamy Orient. The South China Sea will be churning with the summer heat… hoping for some heavy weather : )
Well, waiting for my Hong Kong flight, looking forward to some gigs in the sultry heat. First off is a little bar, just inland from the ferry jetty, nestled in the bauhinia and orchid trees. Thankfully its a good flight, so looking forward to some sleep before hitting the buzzing heat of Arabia… you’ll all be sound asleep as I do, blankets pulled up against the inevitable English autumn. Sleep well, my loves…
– Walking from the Soho levels down towards Central, threading between dark wooden restaurants, Nepalese, Indonesian, Mexican… a polite hum of moneyed clientele, Cutty Sark bars dreaming of the colonies, slouched now, gin-sodden, nervously clinging to a poodle. Just below the chatter, Peel street begins with the reek of incense, throat-scratchingly intense. The always-burning smoke in a small alcove, red tiled, functional, with an indecipherable inscription hidden in a lockable niche. Just down from the tiny temple is the Peel Street Fresco, a dark door, half hidden in a wall. A fake Titian, the ‘Fiesta Campestre’ fills half the back wall, next to it an equally huge Ingres odalisque. In front of these dominating and ancient beauties I am, again, a sorry sight, perched on a stool, strumming my guitar…less attractively ancient. Despite being half a world away, the warm smiles of the audience encouraged my songs of the Cold Seas, as they and I grew slowly more and more sozzled. Lovely…
– Amazing and unexpected gig on a 1950s tenement roof top in Tsim Sha Tsui (thanks to guitarist Brain Lau for promoting…). A bitumen-black star-splashed sky, was jigsaw puzzled by towering and looming concrete and glass. Occasional clouds caught their neon stained skirts on lightning conductors and microwave masts – I played songs about the Northlands and thought about Suzie Wong, whose long ago story climaxed on exactly such a roof… Despite being themselves half a world away, the lakes of Pontchartrain have never sounded more like home.
– Wonderful to have played tonight at the opening of the Bookworm cafe Bar on Lamma island. Arrived as the sun scratched crimson fingers down the Lantau mountains … wasted time lying beneath tiny leaves of Cloudy Pines and watching a night heron watching the water. No cars, everywhere bicycles and quietness, as the granite houses on the three streets breathed out the day’s sunheat. Bookworm is an organic cafe, long estalished and popuar… the bar is their newest venture… organic and with a free library : ) Deeply satisfying night…
