Edinburgh, Scotland, December 10 to 12th, 2005   We left early Saturday morning with Lesley, Simon and Bruno the dog for a very mini road trip driving 85 miles up to Edinburgh. It was Lesley and Simon's wedding anniversary and a bit of a celebration for them to get away with us, and we were excited to experience a Scottish city. After arriving and settling into our hotel, we were all eager to make our way to Princes Street, the heart of the city of 'Eddinburra'....we all hopped onto a Scottish bus with bright blue and red, very funky tartan plaid seats. Kevin and I shared our first impressions of the city as we drove the mile or so in, we were a bit disappointed actually as we thought it looked a bit rough, and the buildings seemed too new to have the character that we have been noticing throughout the European cities we've visited thus far. However, after discovering Old Town and walking about this fascinatingly ghoulish city for two days we absolutely fell in love with it, having many amazing experiences to include: my visiting the Castle high on the hill, (Kevin opted out, too many museums he says and he's 'full' now-so he walked around visiting record shops asking any who would listen which famous bands were Edinburgh's own wee lads or lassies, the Bay City Rollers were the only ones really, although Franz Ferdinand, who are HUGE here by the way, and The Beta Band connected here at some point); Taking the underground tour of the 16th Century 'Mary King's Close' where we learned even more about the effects of the Plagues (complete with mannequin representations, ugh!) and the daily common practise of taking the family's potty to the front door, yelling a French sounding warning, and throwing the contents into the sloped street, making about an inch of filth for all to walk upon at all times. (Can you imagine?!); Later walking through many of the other above ground Town Closes and reading their fascinating plaques telling us that Robert Burns lived here, and Noble Danish men, James VI and his Queen dined in this fine home at Riddell's Close, and Mary Queen of Scots had her last night of freedom here, etc.; Garbage picking on the street after noticing an attractive suitcase placed with other perfectly good 'garbage' near the curb, we even asked from the young man who got there first if we could take the case as we realized we bought too much to take back with us, he graciously agreed and added some new ankle weights for Lesley as well; Walking the full Royal Mile from Castle top to Holyrood Palace bottom; Watching a legitimately Celtic and quite crazy band play in a very small room to some very appreciative and remarkably intoxicated young Scots; Taking a night-time Ghost Walk with about 25 others that ended in Greyfriar's Graveyard and where together we walked through the normally locked gates of Covenanters Prison and huddled closely in a dark tomb for the maximum 10 minutes, where the infamous Mackenzie Poltergeist has been documented these past six years as causing blackouts, scratch marks, bite marks and all forms of paranormal activity to it's visitors (we remain mark free); Going around the city's centre Ferris Wheel watching the lovely night lights of the city and it's lit monuments as Kevin clung for dear life; and last but certainly not least, our final European performance at The Golden Mile Pub where Kevin and I played five songs to a most appreciative, warm, jolly, fun-loving group of people we've met thus far. Thanks again to the very talented and fastest singer we've ever seen, Dave, who lent us his guitar. We had a blast and thought it perfect for our last night there. We even met a young musician from Langley named Franklyn at this pub, go figure, you go half way around the world just to meet your neighbour! Today we found out that Joey John, a musician from New York who is living in Paris, is currently playing our CD "All Dark Places" on his Paris radio station for the next week. Things are great and we have had an unforgettable group of experiences on this trip. We leave tomorrow for London Heathrow, where we fly back to Vancouver. We are looking forward to returning very soon and doing a more extensive tour.   Cheryl   Longtown, Carlisle, Cumbria - December 09th, 2005   After arriving back from Newcastle last night, I was way too tired and stressed from the dark drive at excessively fast speeds down narrow roads to sit down and write. It took a lot out of me as the drive was very draining both emotionally as well as physically, and at times somewhat harrowing! Simon has been graciously providing us with 'Snack a' Packs' for each day's outing, and yesterday we took this, our lunch bag containing Simon's turkey and cranberry sandwiches, as well as our guitar, CD's and promo packs in anticipation of the Music Conference in Sunderland. The weather was good for road travel, being sunny and dry. We left one hour later than planned, so we expected to be about a half hour late to the conference. It was tough to find the location, as the addresses here often tend to be names of buildings or areas with no mention of roads or numbers. We asked some helpful people in the coastal town of Sunderland for guidance and realized that we were now going to be even later. After many U-turns, (they are legal here!) we finally found the area, and then the building, eureka! We thought the parking seemed a bit too amply available, but ambled in to the Quayside Exchange Bar and Conference Centre very chuffed to have a good spot. No signs directed us to Head2Head and no visibly identifiable musicians seemed to be mulling about.We asked the bartender from the adjoining bar to help us out. He went off only to return moments later with a look of perplexity. He had no clue, we had no clue, and so we left thinking we had the wrong location. As we walked back to the car I said wouldn't it be something if this thing happened last year.Well it turned out to be 'something' as we discovered after looking more closely to the date Kevin printed off of their site that we were indeed exactly 12 months and 45 minutes late for this. Kevin was not bothered, however I could not say the same and it took several many minutes for me to accept the mistake. Kevin did have a point when he reminded me that we wanted to visit nearby Newcastle anyways, so we took our acceptance that the day was going a different course than planned along with ourselves and our promo packs on to Newcastle. The coastline drive there was extraordinary. We stopped to walk the wide sandy beach and be near the white-capped waves as they melted into reflective pools at our feet. The sunset over the ocean was like a pastel wash with luminescent azures and pinks softly smudged into gold. The bright half-moon stood guard over all of this beauty, high in the sky above. When I turned around to the coast road, I marvelled at the twinkling bulbs and neon lights of the Ferris wheel and other rides at the fun fair. It was magical. Come to think of it, most of this trip has been quite magical and I am grateful to both my cousin Shauna Arnaud as well as to Cheryl Brewster for wishing our trip to be exactly this, a magical one. It looks like your wishes came true for us ladies, thank-you for them. We went from serene to spastic once we entered Newcastle. So far this city is the worst we've seen for lack of road signs, we figured they must have purposely been deterring tourism. We parked by the University of Newcastle Upon Tyne and headed to the nearest toilet, which we figured would be in a Marks and Spencer's we eyed at the end of the road. We immediately entered into Christmas shopping mayhem. We deftly wove our way through loads of Christmas shoppers who reminded me of hurried worker ants, with their crumb parcels, heading diligently back to the anthill, wherever that may be. There were far too many people coming straight for me for my comfort. After finding our needed toilets, we quickly made our way outside to the square. Here, there was a very tall column with a statue of a man at the top that sporadically threw long flames out from his feet in all directions while playing eerie organ music. I can say I have never seen such a thing before. Ever. We noticed that a little girl was quite frightened of the display above, and her mother attempted to comfort her as we walked past. At a store called Fenwick there was a large window scene where snow blew wildly while a life-sized boy and his companion snowman flew together across the moon lit sky. This is an interesting city. After much cussing and comments as to how ridiculous the lack of street signs were to get there, we managed to find our way to 'Music Row', on Neville and Lime Streets. We visited Gotham Mega Pub, where we read all about how Newcastle is the original Gotham city ('stolen' by Batman's creator.) as it was know for it's practise of the Black Arts in the early centuries. Apparently there were a lot of witch drowning and burnings here, with the majority of these so-called witches being women. There was mention of one particularly loathsome Scottish man who claimed to have the ability to determine whether one was a witch or not by pricking them with a needle. If they did not bleed he claimed they were witches, and thus they would lose their lives. Apparently after about 300 deaths caused by such divination he was discovered to be a fraud and then hung. A bit too late I'd say. In 1645 Newcastle lost over half of it's entire population when a Dutch ship carrying sailors with the Black Plague harboured itself in their port. Apparently these bodies were piled high and buried outside of the city walls, which meant that today these bones lay within 3 meters of the pub itself. Until reading these interesting pages I had completely forgotten all about the Black Death of Europe. Yet again, so much history comes so very close to us. We managed to make our way through a few other bars and dropped off our promo packs. We soon found our way to a real British Chippy, ordered a large fish and chips to go, headed back to the car in time to meet our two hour parking deadline and to eat our very, very, exceptionally greasy traditional British take-away meal. This morning, I noticed spots of fat that had solidified on my coat and purse. This too I have never seen before. Ever. It would appear that Newcastle is a city full of brand new experiences for me! (Heart surgery anyone?)   This morning Kevin and I started our day by taking dog Bruno for an English country walk around the nearby four lakes. We finally saw the many ammunitions buildings that dotted the property across the field behind where we stayed (Dickstree) up close. The large brick structures stood with flat railway cars nearby, awaiting their load, and all of this behind tall and seemingly impenetrable barbed wire fences. This sight delighted Kevin, as he is quite fascinated with anything to do with WW II. I took his picture beside a very large warning sign from the Ministry of Defence. He looked oddly nonplussed and quite happy beside such a stern sign. Sheep lazily munched on the grasses about the buildings. Strange juxtaposition. It rained a little as we walked, but it helped to make this even more of a British experience for us as we enjoyed the sights of swans swimming and of geese, herons and ducks flying in and out of the lake's calm waters. I absolutely adore ancient history, ("I'm a little bit ancient, Kevin's a little bit 20th C" as sung to the old Donny and Marie song, remember?!) and this area of Cumbria is very exciting to me as it is the site of many ancient Roman ruins, to include forts, temples, villages and Hadrian's Wall. Today we visited the most extensive Roman civilization site in Britain, called Vindolanda. I felt a similar heart-skipping elation as I did last year when I visited the more preserved ancient city of Pompeii in Italy, near Naples. While walking along Vindolanda's ancient roads and seeing the outlines of its ancient dwellings, I marvelled at how little things really have changed in 1800 years, if you don't count cars, computers, airplanes, tv's and other electronics! (as compared to the way of life of the Romans specifically.) Kevin and I commented on how we could go back to this time, and live quite comfortably, the cultured Romans were exceptionally advanced in many areas, including their art, music, literature and engineering skills. Today there were only two other people sharing the expansive space of the hillside ruins with us. When we entered, the very kind and friendly admissions clerk, Derek, told us that 100,000 people visit these ruins every summer. Today we were four. Once again, we felt like Elvis renting the ruins. It was inevitable that we eventually cross paths with the other two people, and when we did we struck up a very interesting and extensive conversation with a local by the name of Colin and his sister-in-law Vera from nearby Melkridge. We ended up exchanging home and e-mail addresses with this fascinating Quaker scholar who had such much to say about American politics and ways of life. We want to hear more. I could go on and on about this ancient experience, but this is specifically my own interest I think, so I shall leave it here. We drove further up the road, following some of the 75-mile long Hadrian's Wall, until we met up with another fort ruin just off of the highway. We were especially interested in its ancient Temple to Mythras (112-130 AD) who was a God the Roman soldiers worshipped. According to ancient legend, it was Mythras who brought light in to overcome the darkness. This religion of Mythras also leant much to Christian folklore, for example Mythras was born on December 25, a date later adopted by the Christians for the birth of Christ. It was the Christians who destroyed this particular temple in the 3rd C., but what was left was unearthed and the original altars and statues are now housed in the Museum of Antiquities in Newcastle and I missed it dagnabbit. I blame it on the lack of signs, damned tourists.   Cheryl   Longtown, Carlisle - December 07th, 2005   Happy Birthday Keri! December seems to be a month for celebrations, other than the obvious Christmas, I mean. We visited Carlisle Cathedral today to take photos of the 14th and 18th century stained glass windows. It was a sunny day, although quite cold. I wore my new Oxfam fun-coat that I found in Carlisle, the latest fashions don't' cha know, (thrift store chic!) Simon tells me Helena Bonham Carter shops in British thrift shops as well, and it is good to know that I am in such posh company. Yesterday we found a point and shoot camera at yes, yet another thrift shop, in the Lake District, so today I was creatively speedy with my shots and while Kevin fidgeted with his manual Nikon I whirled around the church taking what I considered personal photos of interest. I was fascinated with the old fashioned graffiti of no doubt bored choirboys who chiselled their names into the wood of their stalls, dated 1597. I found the etchings of other names in the old confessional, dated 1761. This church has been around for 850 years, a time that is hard to fathom actually from the perspective of our own very young Canadian history. A knowledgeable man by the name of Graham, who greeted us as we entered, graciously provided us with a lot of background history, dating his own family back to the 13th century when the Grahams and the Armstrong's were two of the warlords of Carlisle. Apparently the name Graham here is like Smith in Canada. This structure, as well as that of Carlisle Castle, has been grounded as an integral part of the landscape of this wonderful town for centuries. Once again, we are much impressed. We dropped off our CD to BBC Radio Carlisle, and it looks promising that they very well may play it. Crossing our fingers, toes and eyes. We wanted to take advantage of our close proximity to Scotland so we drove up to Dumfries, and while walking by the river we stumbled upon the home of no other than Mr. Robert Burns himself, who resided in the second floor apartment with his wife and three sons from 1791-1793. We had only 3£ left from our day's budget by this time, but were happy to have enough left for a reasonably priced coffee and cuppa tea in the cafe below. We enjoyed hearing the guttural sounds of the Scottish accents that surrounded us there. Amazing how quickly all of the dialects change in a short distance. Tonight we had a fantabulous Christmas dinner here at the house, complete with Christmas crackers and gold crowns, turkey and all of the fixings, it was delicious and loads of fun. We retired in front of the living room's roaring fire and 'sang for our supper', giving both Lesley and Simon a brief acoustic concert. At times they sang along when they could, but did not know many of our standards. I often forget that the popular music here is so much different than what we have heard and know in Canada/the States. We watched a very brief bit of telly afterwards, and noticed that the Brits also have their own popular reality shows. Tonight's show was about celebrities on an island doing disgusting things that included maggots, snakes, kangaroo penises and baby crocodiles and also the even more (?) shameful 'being voted off by their peer group' part of the show. It was like Celebrity Survivor and Fear Factor put together. My quick impression was that Maggie Thatcher's daughter Carol was a bit of a lush and certainly not as proper as I think her mother raised her to be, and Jimmy Osmond is a lot older than when I last saw him in the 1970's, and has put on some pounds, (although he still has that recognizable huge and toothy Osmond family grin.) Not only is the music different, but also their celebrities as well. Tomorrow we are driving east to the Newcastle area (Sunderland) to attend a full-day TAXI modelled Music Industry conference called "Head2Head" and put on by Generator. It should be most interesting and informative, or so we are hoping it will be. It will take us about two hours to get there, and the same back again, so it better be worth it dagnabbit dammit (..Jimmy Osmond's influence.) It's late and I've an early start in the morning so I am off to rest my weary bones..(I can't for the life of me remember any of the Robbie Burns bits I learned in 'uni', and I was hoping to end today's entry with a brilliant Burn's ditty, but alas, you shall have to find one for yourself, or wait until I get home as today's venture renewed my interest in my "Anthology of Literature" book, which I intend to dust off and open to revisit Robert Burns.) Oh Yeah, I am a musician as well as a 'poet', so Let's Rock! (I mean, of course, after a good nights sleep..and oh, by the way, have any of you heard the latest media buzzzzz, that now 40 is the new 30! This is courtesy of the hype around the hit show Desperate Housewives.. alright, finally Hollywood sees that 40 really and truly Rrrrrocks!(right Danielle??!) Ta and Cheers.   Cheryl   Longtown, Carlisle - December 06th, 2005   I am feeling a bit under the weather today, especially tired, I think the hectic pace has caught up with me here in Longtown. A good analogy would be like driving a car at 100 miles per hour and then slamming on the brakes to 0. I can hear Yoko Ono's high pitched wails coming from the DVD being played in the living room. Kevin found the Lennon Toronto concert in Carlisle for a mere 3£. Apparently Ono inspired such musicians as the B-52's and Lena Lovich. I am completely supportive of artistic expression, and welcome it in the most diverse and unique forms of delivery, but this sound coming from Ono is quite disturbing and unnatural and I would liken it to a really bad off-key impression of native singing/chanting, (which I absolutely adore.) Kevin and I were quite bummed today after finding out that we could have seen Blondie perform in Scotland last night - we are conveniently close to Scotland here, being only 1 mile away. Everything seems so much closer to get to here than it does in the wide-open spaces of Canada, eh. We're also in the narrowest point of England, probably only about 50 miles wide. We visited the Lake District today, and as our tour guide, (and delightful host, chef, cousin and purveyor of many chuckles and guffaws!) Mr. Simon drove us in his new Volvo station wagon through the winding roads of the majestic countryside I couldn't help but say really daft things like "this part reminds me of driving up to the Yukon" and "now I feel like I am in Sechelt", mind you, with the exception of the multitudes of grazing sheep, the 18th century farmhouses scattered about and the low stone walls that deftly creep up the sides and across copper coloured mountains. I say, old chap, there's nothing like going halfway across the world and attempting to find good old-fashioned familiarity. We all can't be brilliant, witty and poetically observant at every waking moment, can we?? I was reading today in a Rock and Roll book by Pamela Desbarres (with a lovely front photo of a smirking Axl Rose grabbing a girls exposed buttocks) that Jan Berry (from Jan and Dean fame) had an IQ of 170 and that my favourite hedonist Mr. Jim Morrison had an IQ of 149.I like to think that mine falls somewhere in between them, however today it has plummeted considerably, must be the fatigue. Kevin has been playing guitar for us in the conservatory each night after dinner. Showing off his prowess at remembering lyrics from songs you never really cared much about, (I don't have the same gift, I really have to study mine, and all the song lyrics I learned off of the radio, I sing phonetically and let me tell you "Slow motion Walter, the fire engine guy" is nothing compared to some of the words that I come up with!) We still have many more CD's to distribute, and want to visit the Carlisle radio station tomorrow, in the hopes they will play our song(s). After all, we did perform here, that surely should provide some clout. Jack Canfield, the writer and instigator of the "Chicken Soup for the Soul" series told me, via a free telephone conference call, that in order to make your dreams and goals a reality you must commit to doing Three things each day that are tasks towards this goal. Good advice, so thought I should pass it on, I try. I am thinking Spoken Word, but I am currently in a bit of a brain fog. Thank-you dear friends for your interest in this rant, and for tuning in. Til' next time luvs.   Cheryl   Longtown, Carlisle - December 05th, 2005   Today is my son's birthday, Happy Birthday Shaun, I love you much! If I were to describe London in one word it would be frantic. We went to Picadilly Circus the night before we left, after seeing the play, and I have never ever had such a crowded city experience in my life. The very wide sidewalks were completely packed with Saturday night revellers, tourists, families with children, hen night celebrations, and each of us was tightly pressed against the other and moving as one connected, very slow snake. I felt like I did at my first rock concert, standing at the front of the stage to see The Police perform, and once they started I couldn't breathe for the rush to the front. I had to get out. This city is extremely busy and crowded, and I find myself getting stuffed up quite frequently and blowing black out of my nose, but still, even so, this city is fascinating to us and endearing in its own very unique way. And although we very much enjoyed our time in London, both Kevin and I were ready for the slower pace and country living of Northern England. Our drive up from London yesterday was much easier for us than it was last year, it felt as if we never left. We didn't get lost or mixed up once, and the roundabouts reminded me of when I was twelve years old and madly driving a go-cart about. What fun! It took us about 6 hours to arrive at the Brickyard (www.brick-yard.com) at about 5:30 PM in our new and shining silver Kia sedan. We noticed robin's egg coloured posters on the door, bearing our band name P*U*S*H with "Canadian Acoustic Pairing" written underneath it, alongside The Heavy Blinkers and Simpson. (Good thing we showed up!) We walked into the dark club, up some stairs, through some large wooden doors and entered into a huge warehouse-like room with a full stage, lights and PA stack worthy of large rock bands and concerts. We were quite impressed. We asked for the fellow who booked us, Andy, and were told he wasn't there, but fortunately sound man Nick was, and he told us we were second act up, on at 10:00 PM. This was perfect as this would leave us time to drive up to Longtown and meet with our cousins at their 17th century home called "Dickstree" (which used to be a 'Black Smithy' and has a history worthy of mention on the internet, if you want to check it out for yourselves) to drop off our suitcases, have a quick bite, and time enough to get changed for the gig. The Brickyard is across from Carlisle castle, which was built in 1092 and has an impressive past to include the brief incarceration of Mary Queen of Scots. I find such history completely marvellous and I try to visualize the people and the terrain that once surrounded this ancient castle, and how much it all has changed over the last 813 years, while the castle remains virtually the same. We were early getting back to the gig once settling ourselves in at Dickstree and having a brief family visit. (Simon is an excellent cook!) Once again, upon our arrival, we asked for Andy, and once again he was not there. We soon met their volunteer DJ, Craig, with whom Kevin chatted for a bit while I jotted down some cheat sheet lyrics, (Kevin has rewritten some of the lyrics while we have been in Europe.) Craig was a sweetheart, made sure I got a coffee, and kept good company with us. We gave him our CD to play. We headed to the dressing room that we saw at the back of the stage, to warm-up and prepare. My God....occasionally I get reminded as to how disgusting a few of us musicians really are when I stumble upon the graffiti written on the walls of some dressing rooms. I think of each musician as an artist, and hope that each of us has something meaningful to share and connect with others through words and music. I'm not only meaning the more flowery and super positive 'ain't love grand' (even if it is!) kind of stuff, but also the darker and more painful feelings of melancholy and despair. I also greatly appreciate a story well told. For example, last night The Heavy Blinkers did a brilliant job conveying a real-life story with a song about an Ice Capade's skater, dressed like Bo-Peep, who died of a cardiac arrest while making her debut appearance in their hometown of Halifax.   WARNING: The following soap box diatribe may offend some readers (?!?) and if you choose to continue, please proceed with caution and having an ability to fill in asterisks with letters would be helpful...   I must admit that I loathe and despise the deep-seated immaturity and grandiosity of misogynistic penchants displayed when I see "I f***ed bitch slut up the a** and her hands were against this wall," complete with too-large, childish diagrams in bold black felt marker. It is at these times that I do feel a little shame and a lot of disgust in the profession of 'musician.' And, WHAT by the way, are these girls thinking??! Haven't they got it yet? Don't they realize these guys have absolutely no respect for them whatsoever, and that you don't get any fame, fortune and certainly no gratitude from letting a band guy "f*** you up the a**" in the dressing room" ...it will only end up on the wall, and you won't come off well at all....   END OF DIATRIBE - RATED G READERS CONTINUE ON HERE....   This has been a long entry, I am alone and can spend some time thinking and writing in solitude - it helps. But the main reason I wanted to write tonight was to share the experience of Kevin and I doing our first real professional completely original gig together. Our 'debut' could not have been better - the venue and it's location were perfect, the sound was absolutely amazing (awesome job Nick!), the lights were pro, and although there were few people in the crowd, they were a most attentive and appreciative audience. This was indeed the musical highlight of our journey thus far. We did a short set, but it felt complete and satisfying. We stayed to see The Heavy Blinkers perform, and they are virtually indescribable to us and unlike anything we have ever heard but certainly a poetic experience. Kevin said it felt like "listening to Barry Manilow on acid, but a very good acid." The Brickyard poster aptly described them as "gentle melancholia and orchestral pop." We left the club and walked out on to the very old cobble stone road that reflected the warm orange glow of the street- lights. My high heeled boots clicked, Kevin firmly held the guitar in hand, and heading to our car we noticed a confidence in our stride as well as the warm feeling of euphoria and joy which overcame us, and we laughed.   Cheryl   December 03rd, 2005, Evening   Almost twelve hours from when we left our Streatham location, we are back. My feet are quite tired and a bit sore from all of the walking we did today. We started in Leicester Square, first picking up some discount tickets to see the Matinee performance of Tennessee Williams's play "Night of the Iguana" starring Woody Harrelson. Kevin and I then went our separate ways. I had to visit the National Gallery as last year was a whirlwind tour graciously offered by my good friend Shelley, but with us wanting to fit too much into one day in London we found ourselves whipping through the gallery while Kevin and I were completely jetlagged and barely standing straight when stationary. I managed to see many of my favourite painters and their work at a leisurely pace. A 15th C. artist by the name of Costa painted a scene that showed a male lute player and two female singers at either side of him. I read the gallery's notation aside the painting stating that most 15th c. painters enjoyed painting musicians and their facial expressions when singing and playing. I didn't learn this unique tidbit of information at art school! I was pleased to know that these artists showed such an interest in musicians. I thought of my face when I sing and how much I scrunch it all up, much to the chagrin of my former singing and performance teacher Patricia Dahlquist I would imagine. I don't think this guy Costa would have wanted to paint my portrait when I compared myself to the two lovely and serene visions he chose to portray in this 1485 scene. There are too many other truly great art and their creators to mention, and I certainly do not wish to bore you with it all. However I must comment on my most favourite artist, Vincent Van Gogh. To me he is the art equivalent to Jim Morrison. His is yet another fascinating and quite tragic story of an amazingly creative and gifted artist who died of self-sabotage. Once again I stood before his famous painting of Sunflowers, but this time I had the time to read the notation, which again was new information to me (did I learn anything in art school?!) Apparently he chose the colour yellow as he saw this as a symbol of hope and friendship, he painted the series for his own home, andthis was his favourite which he placed in the guest bedroom in anticipation of his friend Gaughin's visit. Whenever I think of Van Gogh I get quite sad, I noticed that Sunflowers was painted only a year before he went to the Asylum in France. Suddenly this painting becomes even more poignant and has more meaning to me. Kevin spent his time away at HMV again, sifting through the music section DVD's. We met in Trafalgar Square, under the George Washington statue, and I was quite surprised to see wet glass-shiny concrete and a large loud rally of protestors in front of the Square when I stepped out of the gallery. I couldn't read their signs, but I am assuming they may have been protesting the climate changes, as we were handed a brochure while on the Tube the day before about a rally to protest global warming. Kevin showed up with roasted chestnuts, and both of us started singing the 'chestnuts roasting on the open fire' lyric - now we've actually tried them (I'd rate them a 5/10, but I kept eating the shells, which didn't help the rating...) We headed to the Lyric theatre to catch the matinee, and thought it pretty cool to see Woody Harrelson in person, and enjoyed the funny and insightful script. Next we walked through Soho, spotting where Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart spent three years living, playing and composing as well as the flat where Karl Marx lived with his family for five years in squalor, while writing Das Kapital. Marx lost two children while living in this flat. I forced Kevin to go with me into a sex shop and a whip and rubber lingerie store...it was a tough sell. Each experience was very interesting indeed. Headed up Carnaby Street, where we bought some souvenirs and then walked to Westminster Abby - what awesome architecture. We strolled across the Westminster bridge, over the Thames, to capture the postcard feeling of seeing Parliament across the river fantastically lit up and twinkling off of the water. From here we enjoyed hearing Big Ben ring nine lovely bell tones. Next we hopped onto a double decker bus and headed back here.....after a long day we are looking forward to a good night's sleep. Kevin and I leave tomorrow morning to pick up our rental car at Heathrow, once again I am bravely facing roundabouts and left side driving to make our way up to Carlisle in time for our opening gig at ? time....we'll be there when we get there. Nighty night...   Cheryl   London - December 03rd, 2005, Morning   I've got a brief moment to catch up on the past two days.... The jam on Thursday night was quite impressive and many quality musicians stood in the wings waiting patiently for their turn to play two songs. The leader of the Roadhouse band, Gary, was a witty and capable host, skilfully placing jammers together on stage with an end result of each being seen in their best light. We sat up in front of the stage in the 'you better wear ear plugs' zone with Gary's mum Carol and dad George. Gary jokingly told us that anyone who has their mum and dad come to a gig isn't 'a real band'! Carol was lovely, taking us Canadians under her wing and telling us about raising Gary as a young mum and taking him to rock and roll concerts, (she had him when she was seventeen.) ....Gary has now had this band Roadhouse for fourteen years, and has enjoyed quite a bit of radio play with a few of his songs....which Drew jokingly says are songs you can 'kill yourself by', (and I don't think the affable and fun-loving smiling Gary would be offended by Drew's comment as he told us a story where he met a cab driver in Amsterdam who recognized him as the 'lead guy from the UK Roadhouse band', and then went on to a diatribe about how horrible it must be to be him, he must have a sad life, and that he even told his wife that he was sure glad he wasn't this obviously very depressed man Gary from Roadhouse....! Kevin played bass with a really young and amazing guitar player, getting his free-form Ya Yas out (and this is exactly what he was hoping to experience at this jam.) He fronted Brown Sugar while Drew sat in the audience playfully miming Mick Jagger moves, attempting to inspire Kevin to follow suit, but Kevin thought it too ironic that he was singing a Londoner's song in front of other Londoner's and didn't want to risk ridicule...so he clapped instead. (?!!) I sang Old Time Rock n' Roll and Gimme One Reason, with Drew and Kevin backing me up - these songs were the bluesiest stuff I do, and this was a blues jam. We were greatly entertained by all of these musicians, many of whom had past connections to great musicians like Eric Clapton, and one fellow who was such an in demand guitar maker that the likes of Sir Paul have used his services. Drew was completely on fire, receiving applause for his smokin' solos. We really enjoyed chatting with another young artist, Rhiad, after the gig. We talked music, music, music and exchanged e-mails, intending to keep in touch with him and his other Fugey bandmates (the rest are a group of teenage lads who had their mums and dads them, it was really great to see such young talent be able to show their stuff in a pub with so much support around them, beautiful actually.) This was yet another amazing London musical experience for us. We switched back into tourist mode once again on Friday, (yesterday,) visiting the Tower of London and doing our very own Jack the Ripper walk at Whitechapel - in the dark, windy and wet London night....weather fitting for such a walk. We enjoyed a ginger beer and Victorian lemonade at the very old (established 1678) Ten Bells Pub, where Jack's second victim spent her time drinking immediately prior to meeting her demise at this mad man's hand in an alley nearby. Gorgeous and colourful Victorian tile from the time of the Ripper still remains on the walls of the pub. The pub was packed with young and old alike, there was standing room only. I found myself full after all of the day's history we took it, although I still felt such knowledge was quite marvellous and very interesting to possess. This is our last day in London, we want to experience a bit more of it as tourists and are heading out now to do exactly that!   Cheryl   London Streatham - December 01st, 2005   Welcome to the first day of December, we awoke to a light drizzle with some fog, wind and an overcast sky - Kevin calls this a typical British day. It is afternoon already, and still I sit with my jammies on, listening to Charlie Parker's song "Cheryl" (it's all about me!) as I write. Last night's gig was at Raffles in Chelsea London, and our band's name was Skookum (a good Canadian name...am I the only one who remembers the infamous Skookum Slide at the PNE?!) Kevin chatted up our keyboard player, the amazing Mr. Dom Pipkin, asking him if he would be available for us to do a 'proper' tour with when we come back to the UK. He agreed, also adding that he could help us find some other musicians, and will make a contribution to the CD that we are currently working on. This is very exciting news for us, to have a band available here for future touring is awesome, (and we are hoping to be back in the very near future.) The gig itself was a great experience, although it surprisingly felt very familiar to us. I think we both expected a London gig to be different than any of the others we have done in North America, but it's all the same baybeee... I got locked out of my dressing room at a crucial time and subsequently struggled with my Cher wig and headdress on stage because I didn't have the time to put it on properly.... but hey, it's all part of the experiences of this business - you gotta roll with the punches. I cussed and cursed my way from dressing room to stage grins and giggles. I almost had a punch up with a really rude coat check girl.... but that's a whole other story! (Maybe it will go in the book version?!) Everyone else, other than this coat check girl, was absolutely outstanding at the party. The wig problem did not deter the consummate professional diva Cher from dancing up a storm with Elvis Presley on stage (who underneath the pompadour wig and bejewelled cape was known as 'Steve' from Dynamo Advertising Company, London) although Cher held her head a lot while bouncing about with the King. The theme of the party was "Viva Las Vegas" and all of the attendees looked extraordinary in their costumes. It was reminiscent of Halloween in Watson Lake, Yukon for Kevin and I. There were male and female Elvis's, a Marilyn, very beautiful and sparkly Show Girls galore, a couple of Hunter Thompson's, a Siegfreid, Roy and their Tigergirl (who won First place in the costume contest,) a Middle-Weight boxer (who won Second place,) Gangsters and Brides and Grooms. A top-notch celebration it was. Thanks to our genial host, and also extremely talented guitar player friend Mr. Drew Barron for inviting us to be a part of this night. Kevin also loved playing the bass again, and the crowd loved him too, giving him quite the round of applause at the end of our night. We are grateful for this experience, and look forward to even more to come....tonight we are going to Drew's local jam, where he features his recording act band 'Roadhouse', (they are currently working on their ninth album.)   ***Please Check out www.dompipkin.co.uk to hear some groovin' piano.   London, Streatham - November 30th, 2005   We took the Virgin train from Liverpool to Euston station yesterday, sitting across from a delightful lady named Grace who 'graciously' shared a bit of her life history as a Liverpudlian with us over the course of the two and a half hour journey. I also listened to music with the ear buds, learning lyrics and arrangements while our train sped through the English landscape, and through its windows I could see green pastures interspersed with snow covered fields. There were many sheep and cows underneath the bright sun and a blue and virtually cloudless sky. Drew picked us up at Euston station, his small car was already loaded with the gear for the rehearsal, but we managed to squeeze ourselves in, piling luggage and guitars on top of us...what a sight we must have been as we dashed through London! We were early for the 2:30 pm rehearsal in North London's Backstreet, so we decided to have a drink in the Study pub across the street, and started to catch up with Drew, who moved to London from Vancouver four years ago now. The rehearsal space has been around for ages, and its manager, Chris, told us that past rehearsing musicians included Sir Bob Geldof and the Manic Street Preachers. The other fellows in Drew's band come from all over the globe....horn player Fred is from Geneva, horn player Tom is from Manchester, horn player Olli is from Paris, keyboardist Dom is from up north I believe, and drummer Phil is the only original born and bred Londoner in the lot. It felt great to play with a band again. We "went out for a pint" with most of the members afterwards and enjoyed getting to know these very entertaining and interesting musicians more. We also learned quite a bit about the general London music scene. Kevin told Tom that in Vancouver it has been his (our) experience at times when not one audience member claps when you are finished a song, to which Tom replied "That's bollocks, I wouldn't put up with that shite" ....he's quite a character. Our gig is tonight in Chelsea. Drew and Brenda are wonderful hosts, and today I am catching up on my writing sitting here, in their lovely third floor view North American styled apartment. Later Kevin and I will do a quick rehearsal of our own original show. Tonight I am Cher as well as Cheryl....this should be loads of fun, looking forward to it but haven't a clue how I will manage to change into costume yet! I will let you know how it goes!   "I've been down so goddamned long, that it feels like up to me" Jim Morrison   "I do the best that I want to, not always the best that I can" Kevin Swain   Cheryl   Liverpool - November 28th, Evening   We woke up to some snowflakes coming down outside our window. This is our last night here, and then we are off to London by train tomorrow morning, and upon our arrival heading immediately to the rehearsal to meet with the other 7 band members to get ready for the London gig, (which will be on the 30th.) Today was the last day of Kevin's personalized "The Beatles before they were famous and just like us" Tour.....we walked down Penny Lane, went shopping at the Woolworth's that Cynthia Lennon used to work at.....and then ran into Gavin at the corner of Penny Lane just outside of Woolworths - this is the same bloke we met at the Cavern and who suggested we check out the Liverpool Music Week line-up at the Tea Factory. We had a delightful chat, commenting on the coincidence of our meeting, and he gave us a bit more information about where Paul and John would hang out in the area. There is a park just off of Menlove Avenue (where John lived at Mendips) that Gavin said the boys would spend some time together....we made our way to the park and ate our packed sandwiches and tangerines on a log amidst some really beautiful evergreens and surrounded by well worn paths. We met a man as he walked by, wearing a red coat and accompanied by a German Shepherd who loved to chase squirrels. After some dialogue and Kevin's sharing his Beatle fixation, the man kindly helped us out by telling us the exact location where Paul would cut through the Golf Course to get to John's house. This is a walk Kevin had read about in one of the countless books about the Beatles he has acquired through the years. Kevin and I walked some more through this marvellous park, which was in quite a 'posh' area of Liverpool, before heading up the hill that was the road where Strawberry Fields was. The school children were just getting out of school and began to walk past us, down the hill towards Menlove Avenue. They were huddled together each in their dark red uniform jackets with the boys wearing their black striped ties and the girls in their dark red skirts. There was much laughter between them as they passed. One young fellow of about 13, with carrot red hair called out to Kevin as he passed "Click Click!" (The camera still dangles from around Kevin's neck.) Once we reached Strawberry Fields, and I fumbled with the camera, a very sweet young teenage girl asked me if I wanted her to take a picture of the both of us. We accepted. She was so careful with the camera and held it like it was quite precious - this I found quite endearing. After Strawberry Fields, Kevin really wanted to go to where it all began....the place where in 1957, Paul rode his bike from his home on Forthlin Road to St. Peter's church in Woolton to see this chap John Lennon he had heard so much about, play with his band the Quarry Men, on the back of a lorry. We trudged up the hill, turned on Church Road, trudged on some more and finally made it to this very special church......where the beginnings of something quite extraordinary occurred when Paul McCartney met John Lennon for the first time. Some pretty cool stuff. This was a very full day for us both. Don't Just Dare to Dream....Dare to Do...... G'nite   Cheryl   Liverpool - November 27th, Evening   We have been having exceptional weather since we have left Vancouver - in London (November 15-17), Paris (November 17-24) and here, with the exception of the first day we arrived.....for this we are grateful. Today was sunny with some blue-sky peering out from behind billowy clouds. A perfect day to visit the beaches of Formby, where we could see either Ireland or the Isle of Wight from the shores, (we're not great with the local geography!) Kevin and I walked around the lovely town of Formby and amazingly Kevin remembered the ways from his grandmother's house to the beach and the sweet shops, thirty years after his last visit here. We visited the graves of his maternal grandparents, and other relatives in an old church cemetery. I love the churches here, they have so much history and character in their architecture, to me they speak of so many many lives lived and so long ago, and I find this quite fascinating. I was touched and saddened to see so many graves of very young men from the First and Second World Wars, sometimes brothers laid together. At another very old church, we saw a headstone for 'John Swift' (b.1796-d.1861) who is a distant relative of Kevin's; it is quite something to see one's past ancestry going back so far. Seeing this headstone and Kevin's reaction to it reminded me of the honour and respect that native philosophy gives to their own history when they add "and to all my relations" at the end of their prayers. We had an interesting approach from a young lass of about 16, when after eyeing Kevin's camera which hung from around his neck, she boldly asked him to take her picture and that of her friends.....we were in a park that Kevin remembered from his youth, but this time it seems to be a hang out for the young 'uns, complete with throw-up near the benches from too much young drinking I would imagine. Not too pleasant a sight for the likes of me, and no doubt a deterrent for young families to visit, but these kids seemed harmless and I think they are just plain bored. Small town life and all. Kevin complied in taking the picture, and I commended her for her confidence in asking. Her name was Dana and only one of her friends, Sean, ended up joining her in the photo. We got their e-mail addresses and promised to send the picture to them. We have had some great interactions with so many people here, and in Paris as well. People who have walked up to us when we looked so obviously lost and outside our element and graciously asking us if they could help us. Two gentlemen in Paris took the time to understand my broken French, and welcomed us to their city. Last night, after the Cavern gig, we bumped into the two young men who were up front while we performed, right near the speakers and calling out for 'rock and roll!'....they asked us for directions and when they realized we were one of the bands they had seen at the Cavern they were so kind with their compliments and conversation - we chatted for quite a while in the chilly night air. Music and fans of music is really the reason why we are here, and we are so appreciative of the people we are meeting who inspire us to continue. The city of Liverpool is currently celebrating "Liverpool Music Week" (November 20-28.) When we were at the Cavern awaiting our set yesterday, yet another very kind and friendly young bloke named Gavin, who is a true music fan and lover, struck up a conversation with Kevin and told him about this special event. He encouraged us to visit The Tea Factory, which is around the corner from the popular and famous Jacaranda club, from 4pm onward on Sunday to see a variety of local acts. We made it a point to catch this event and hear the live music, and managed to make it to the club just after 4pm. We very much enjoyed listening to the locals show a wide array of styles and approaches to their music - acts included: Ambrose Tompkins, Mark Wilson, Mark Grenville, Joe Keeland and Shane Beales. It was an impressive set up with three large stages set all around. We absolutely adore this town for their respect and promotion of live music. You can hear live acts from solos to full bands playing from the early afternoon until the wee hours of the morning, in virtually every single club in town....and these clubs are full of patrons.......and these patrons are truly listening, supporting and appreciating the talent of the musicians before them. What a dream! This is heaven for us.   Cheryl   Liverpool - November 26th, Evening   Well, we're back from playing at the Cavern, (it all did work out in the end after all) and we're both still feeling a most terrific and natural high from this great experience! We started our one-hour set with our man Ray trying to set up Kev's acoustic to be mic'd. The pick-up is now totally toasted - Note to Selves: visit Paul Iverson as soon as we're back in Vancouver get a good and reliable pick-up installed.....arghhhh, what a bleeping hassle. The feedback was a problem with this set up, and no one from the other bands had an acoustic they wanted to lend out to us (who could blame them, they must have caught Kevin's new stage show where he jumps up and down on his guitar while lighting his hair on fire and juggling Toblerones.....) So Kevin, always the quick thinker, asked the great fellow with the £90 Beatles boots who had played before us, (a songwriter and solo artist named Dave), if he could use his electric guitar. Dave was a sweetheart, "No problem" he said (with a great Liverpudlian accent.) Kevin is sure envying those Beatle boots, figuring out if he can afford them or not, maybe if he busks a bit more?! Well with Dave's guitar in hand, we were off, started with CCR but we sure missed our band....where's the beat? We felt a bit naked, but not for long..... The drummer, Peter, and bass player, Andy, from the band "Rubber Soul" quickly joined us on stage and we were a band instantaneously. I joked about us making our new band's debut at the Cavern and taking both Peter and Andy on the road with us to Canada, they seemed to get quite a kick out of this. It made the experience all that more memorable and loads of fun, they were really great guys. Afterwards we sold cd's, and Ray made us feel extra special by saying we were a "nice surprise all the way from Canada." Many of you were asking for pictures, and although we did not get any shots of our own, (other than three taken from the amp behind us, set on auto timer - so who knows how these will turn out?!!), many flashes were going off while we were performing and we are hoping to track down one of these photos, or perhaps the photographers themselves, to have a picture memory from the front! Kevin had his 'perfect moment' when he sang "Saw Her Standing There" with his guitar up high, his mic down low and his feet planted widely apart - just like John Lennon used to play. He even did the Beatles trademark head back and forth while grinning madly (Paul and George did this movement I believe....) I've mentioned 'perfect moments' already, and just for those of you who do not know this term, I am referring to the late Spalding Grey's statement made in his monologue film "Swimming to Cambodia" where he said he would never leave a place until he found his 'perfect moment'. We love Spalding Grey and miss him, sad story that one. We are going to practise again tonight for our Carlisle show, and forgo the amazing night life here on Mathew street this Saturday around....we are staying just outside of Liverpool, with Kevin's cousins and there's a problem with the trains in that they do not run very late and apparently it is quite scary travelling by train later in the evening. Tomorrow is a family day out, off to visit Formby on the coast. Kevin is originally from Lytham St. Annes, which is near Formby, and has fond memories of visiting his grandmother there when he was twelve, it's been a while since then! Well I am off to the acoustically cool and quite quiet conservatory to sing, sing, sing - it has been a really lovely day..and I hope that yours has as well.   Cheryl   Liverpool - November 26th, Morning   Today is our Cavern playing day..... But we haven't been able to contact their booking agent since our arrival re: start times etc so I am feeling a bit apprehensive about this day, (do we just show up? And if so, when do we go?!) ..... We'll figure it all out..... Kevin is making us some eggs on toast while I type away here. Yesterday we took the train in to downtown Liverpool and first visited the British Home Office so that Cheryl could get an "I married a Brit" stamp placed in 'er passport. The lovely man at Immigration suggested I do this when I landed in Liverpool from Paris, he seemed very interested in whether or not I was going to be getting paid as a musician while in Britain and all..... Well, unfortunately he didn't tell me that I had to live here for six months and have £500 in me pocket to get that stamp.... (I told him I was a musician, right??!) Precious time wasted and snatched away from our planned "Super Duper Special Beatles Tour" day, although we did enjoy the 'frisking' part. (Just FYI - when Kevin was a wee lad, he dreamed of one day coming to Liverpool and walk where the Beatles walked, well before they were famous, and mere mortal men dreaming as he did - to be a world famous musician one day.... and so he found himself a Liverpool Beatle's Tour map and kept it in a drawer in Canada awaiting the day.... ) Anyways, we got a late start and hurried to see as much as we could before the sun set, which comes quickly with the imposing winter. We walked to the places where the Beatles first played: the Empire Theatre, the Blue Angel, the Jacaranda (saw the murals in the basement that supposedly John and Stu Sutcliffe painted) and cruised to the top of the hill, beside the extraordinarily large and beautifully imposing structure of the Anglican church, where young Paul auditioned to be a choir boy. Across from the church were the two schools where the lads George and Paul went to school in one (The Grammar school), and John and Stu went to the other (The Art school). The Grammar school was going to be demolished in the 1980's but Sir Paul stepped in and stopped the destruction, and had a large hand in creating the Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts (LIPA). It officially opened in 1996, with the blessing of the queen herself.... we artists do have some regal nods after all! Behind the church was Gambier Terrace, where Stu and John lived in #3 as radical and somewhat unruly (eventually kicked out) artists, with the pervasive smell of turpentine and canvases strewn haphazardly about in this first floor flat. I tried to get a photo of Kevin on the steps outside the door of #3, as there is one of the Beatles in the archives, but by now the light was too dim and the automatic Nikon wouldn't click for me anyways. Of course we went to Mathew Street, tried to order a non-alcoholic beer and a coffee or tea at the famous Grapes pub but they only serve the real deal beer (go figure?!) We managed to sit on the green velour padded interior bench where the Beatles sat and had their photo taken 40 years ago....reading the paper instead of drinking beer, just to get the Beatle vibe mannnn. Unfortunately no photo to commemorate this special moment though, (remember, jammed Nikon.) We visited the Cavern three times, trying to meet our booking man, missing him every time...enjoyed the live solo acts, yet the sound kind of bit our heads off a bit. Did some shopping.... HMV and Virgin mostly, these stores are Kevin's equivalent to my Louvre Museum. Today is another day, more Beatle sites, and hopefully the experience of playing in the Cavern............. It is all good no matter what happens, having great 'perfect moments' so far and it's been marvellous to have the e-mail to stay in touch with our kind and supportive fellow musician pals in Canada while we are here. Thanks Danielle, Kelly, Gio, Tad, Yannis, Chris, and Shauna for your emails - they mean a lot. Gotta go practise.... Kevin is playing the guitar upstairs and I think that is my cue to go........ Loads of love to you all.   Cheryl     Liverpool - November 24th, 2005   We are now in Liverpool for the next five days. This is Kevin's very own personal Mecca, the huge and humungous Beatle fan that he is! Since we arrived this morning, the weather here has been very blustery and wet, with a bit of hail tossed in for good measure (a very cold and chchchilly measure that is.) Our jet's landing was pretty scary with the wind seemingly tossing us about as we approached the landing strip to John Lennon airport. Kevin chanted while I prayed. We made it, obviously as this is not my ghost sitting here at this machine - and our cheery "Aren't you glad to be alive?!" reward was the sight of the Beatle's yellow submarine in the car park.... On Dec. 4th we will be one of the opening acts at the BrickYard in Carlisle, the main act is a Canadian band from the Maritime's called "The Heavy Blinkers" Every day I meant to write in my own personal journal while in Paris, and every night we would walk until near exhaustion, wanting to feel and experience Paris - the streets, the people, the architecture, the history and the life of this extraordinary city. Once back at our apartment in Marais, I was too exhausted to write. I purposely woke up earlier than usual on November 22nd and spent an hour and a half writing while Kevin slept. Here are the beginnings of what I wrote........"It is the morning of our fifth day here.... Coffee is brewing and I've opened our fifth floor window to the crisp, cool air, to the sunshine, and to the sounds of nearby school children who must be on an early recess break. Our apartment is small and quaint, with stained carpets and not enough cooking paraphernalia, but the view is lovely.... We look into a courtyard and over rooftops to see the history of Paris beyond - the spires of old churches converted to apartments? I hear the school bell ring; it is 10:30, and quickly quieting down. We also hear the church bells ring regularly and we both marvel at the wonderful soundscape that surrounds us here. There seems to be a sense of safety which accompanies this old and ritualistic tradition and the city itself, a sense of comfort settles in and we truly believe that all is well with the world."   Cheryl   Paris - November 23rd, 2005 (added November 30th)   Kevin stayed in the apartment to do a lyric rewrite for 'Let Sleeping Dogs Lie' while I headed over to the nearby George Pompidou Museum of Modern Art. (He is not a fan of the museums and told me he never wants to see another painting of fruit or Jesus again!) I find that I am more dedicated to being a performer, a singer and a songwriter than I am to being a visual artist at this point in my life. I saw some Picassos, a Pollock and some Dali paintings....as well as an interesting exhibit on the Dada movement (I was really happy to see much of Man Ray's work, who I gained a huge appreciation for while I was at UBC taking Jeff Wall's Photography course.) We joined up and together went to the Louvre....to see more paintings of Jesus and fruit....not to mention the Mona Lisa, of which I made attempts to protect from an obnoxious tourist who kept trying to take photos of her, in spite of the very obvious and large multi-culturally understanding signs everywhere telling her not to. I started by 'ratting her intentions out' to the museum guards, and even after their reprimand I watched as she set her camera ready for another try. I quickly jumped in front as her flash went off and hopefully ruined it all for her....I could not believe the blatant rudeness and disregard for not only the museum's rules, but also for the art itself. This is when I know I revere and value our art history, when I am impelled to become: "Cheryl - Defender of daVincci"!   Cheryl   Paris - November 22nd, 2005 (added November 30th)   Kevin and I went to Pere Lachaise to see Morrison's grave. At the graveyard, we were met by a French man while walking on the cobble path. He had long curly dark hair, was in his late 40's and wore a faded black 'Doors' t-shirt underneath his brown leather jacket. He invited us to accompany him to the gravesite, which he said he visited every day. He spoke very little English, yet excitedly shared his knowledge that 200,000 people visit Morrison's grave each year, and every December 15th (Morrison's birthday) 10 to 20,000 people visit. Wow! Quite the homage to this man who struggled so, an homage deserved I believe.... to a point. Jim Morrison's life most certainly has affected and touched my own. I feel a kinship somehow, and a deep sadness towards his addictions, of which I can very much relate to on a personal level. I have read every biography I am aware of - the latest book I read was by his hand-fasted wife, Patricia Kennealy. I don't really understand why I developed an interest and fascination with his life, but I am just 'going with it' and enjoying this ride of discovery. There were several people and a black cat surrounding his grave when we arrived. Many flowers lay purposefully and neatly on the earth above where he laid buried 4 metres below. On top of the headstone, a really lovely and large, fresh autumn coloured arrangement was placed, bearing a ribbon with "The Lizard King" written across it. At the foot of the grave a red candle with what looked like a black Celtic symbol burned strongly and brightly. I heard two young American men discussing how odd it was that a black cat was there. I thought the same thing.   Continued from the original diary excerpt on December 01st ...   We left the grave and began walking down hill, noticing the same black cat with the green eyes on the cobbles before us. The cat darted off between the other gravestones but I stopped walking and began calling to it. I sat down onto the large stone curb and waited for the cat to reappear, and it did. It came up to both Kevin and I, rubbing its body along our legs and hands. We tried to feed it some of the cumbersome baguette we had been carrying for most of our day's walk. The cat looked well fed, and it had no interest in our bread. We wondered where this cat had come from and where it lived. At this point I had a thought. Suddenly I felt the need to surrender... give...share... place...our CD onto Jim's grave. I didn't understand or question the "whys?", I just trusted the need. I told Kevin my thought, and although he wondered a bit about my sanity, (which he often does, actually,) he followed me back up the hill to the grave, along with the cat. When we arrived a few moments later all of the people were gone, and the same French policeman who stood guard was the only soul there. "How perfect," I thought. I asked the policeman in my halting French if I could place the CD on the grave, explaining that I was a musician from Canada. He told me in French to, "Go ahead." Reaching over the metal bars, I aimed the CD towards the centre of the group of flowers before the headstone. I tossed, and managed to keep the CD label upright on the landing. I asked Kevin to take a picture. As we walked away, with our new cat friend still in tow, I pondered the meaning of the ritual I had just experienced. I then realized the connections, my song All Dark Places* is all about my own drug addiction, and the tremendous feeling of freedom I feel on the other side of it..."All dark places have now come undone." Kevin took the CD's cover photo in a quick moment, a perfect moment as it turned out in the picture, on the corner of Hollywood and Vine in Los Angeles. It seems to fit a gift to Jim Morrison - a memory of his city and a recognition that other musicians are touched by the life he lived, and thanking him for his life lived, and to let him know that one of us managed to "get out of here alive," at least for now, away from the throes of drug addiction.   *All Dark Places was originally my own song and melody idea, and I wrote the lyrics. Kevin chorded the song and wrote the chorus. Yanni Fyssas put some finishing touches while recording the song at his studio.     Paris - November 21st, 2005   Have had a tough time finding an Internet cafe, have been writing very sporadically in my journal since arriving in London on the 15th - but will condense for the sake of time and economics! We played in North London our first night here - went to an open mic at the Progress Bar. Great ambience and an even greater vibe - the musicians are so very gracious and supportive here, it was a delightful experience. We played our songs: 'Angel Over Me' and 'All Dark Places.' We visited Madame Tussaud's the next day and sang on stage for all to see in the British version of American Idol (The X Factor) We performed our show stopping (??!!) Sonny and Cher "I Got You Babe" to wax figures of Simon Cowell and Sharon Osbourne... got some great shots! The weather has been extraordinary since our arrival, sunny, clear and crisp. Paris is unbelievable, as I remember it being... this city makes you feel as if there is nothing you cannot do... where absolutely anything is possible. I even cook with more reckless abandon than the usual! Our Marais apartment is right beside a very lively bar - we love our little neck of the woods. First day in Paris we did a mini Jim Morrison tour - visited where he lived (and most likely died), saw where Oscar Wilde died, which was the very same room that Jim fell out of the second story window, (he just picked himself up and dusted himself off and went on to the nearest bar!) We busked yesterday on the Pont des Arts... sunny and lovely. A young woman gave us $2.00! We are playing at the Cavern, Liverpool on the afternoon of Nov. 26th - this is the "birthplace of the Beatles" so Kevin is hugely JAZZED about this upcoming performance.   Cheryl   Paris - November 19th, 2005 (added November 30th)   We continued the Morrison tour today, in Saint Germaine des Pres. Since our arrival we have become 'nightwalkers', arriving back to the apartment sometime between 2 and 3 am, and sleeping in the next day. We manage to make our way out again at about 3:00 pm. There is a sense of urgency inside me, which I have to consciously calm each day... knowing that there is so much to do and to experience, and so little time to do it all in. We visited the famous Cafe de Flore, where Jim apparently spent a lot of his time, as did Jean Paul Sartre. We sat inside where I doubt little, if anything, has changed since Morrison's day. We were seated against the back wall. A well-coiffed woman sat to the right of me, and seemed quite concerned about her expensive fur coat which was placed on the bench seat, and which I attempted to avoid sitting upon while squeezing myself into the teeny space behind our small table. Small, small, small. Space is limited in Paris, (as in most European cities), and we are seeing people, cars and scooters fitting themselves into the oddest spaces, making room where you would not normally see any. I find this inventive, clever and appealingly bold. We ordered the recommended hot chocolates, which were delicious but a rather pricey 7 Euros each, and observed the goings on around us. I definitely felt uniqueness as we sat at the Cafe de Flore... a sculptor to my left was showing a beautiful catalogue of his work to his companions. I saw the sculptor's photograph within this impressive catalogue as he flipped through its magazine quality pages. I saw this cafe described as an expensive place where poets, writers, artists, intellectuals and tourists converge and 'rub elbows together'. Another great thing I find about this city is that things rarely change over time - so much remains the same with no need or desire to destroy the old to make way for the new. I respect this very much, and find much comfort in such stability and honour for the past.   Cheryl   London, Paddington - November 15 to 17th, 2005   Paris - November 18th, 2005: Happy birthday to meeeee....(added November 30th)   My birthday as of 12:00 am today, began in a smoky Parisian supposedly 'affordable' Parisian restaurant called the Polidor. We went for a walk late last night to find this restaurant that Kevin saw recommended by an Aussie traveller on the internet. Our flight arrived at Charles de Gaulle early afternoon, and our shuttle driver was a very kind older Asian man named Michelle who spoke limited English but made a point of telling us the areas of Paris as we drove quickly through to our destination - the Marais apartment. Our landlord was over an hour late in meeting us, as he had to collect the forgotten coffee-makingmachine he promised me (I do love my coffee - Kevin hates it...) We waited patiently with our suitcases outside the doors of our building and watched the Parisian children, men and women bustle by us on the small street, warm in their stylish coats and slip through knot tied scarves. I especially enjoyed hearing young voices speaking beautiful French, and noticed that their carry bags were not much different than the children use in Vancouver, many having the same animated pictures and figures on them. Once settled in to the apartment, we made our way to a small grocer where we bought some items for next day's breakfast. We are finding the dairy products in France are absolutely extraordinary - the milk, yoghurt, cheeses... and the pastries, ahhhh the pastries... amazing! The desserts here are exactly what I wish every dessert I ever try or order in a restaurant will taste like... and sadly do not elsewhere. Each pastry is like a work of art. Our waitress at the Polidor looked to be in her early 60's and she hobbled about between the long wooden tables, picking up assorted wine bottles quickly emptied by the other chatty patrons. I wondered if her limp was a result of doing this job for many years or due to fatigue because of the lateness of the hour, (I find it rather fantastic that we can walk into a restaurant well after 11:00 pm and still get a home cooked style meal.) Our waitress did not speak a word of English and Kevin relies on me to do all of the communicating. I utilize what little French I have, and wait for the rest to come back to me, (which, surprisingly, it has been.) I order duck and Kevin tries the carpaccio, and later we share the best black current pudding Kevin has ever tasted. Paris is the most magnificent city I have ever been to, and this is the best birthday gift - to be here. After our meal we headed out to find the Chesterfield, which is a bar that boasts of having live American rock bands, six nights a week. We found the address, but now it was called the Charlie Birdy, and only presented live acts one night a week (Saturday.) We missed out, unfortunately, but all was not wasted as I got the contact information for their Booking Agent from a waitress. We arrived back at the apartment about 3:00 am, and after a long sleep we headed out on our first leg of the Jim Morrison tour. I found a really interesting "Jim Morrison Paris Tour" on the Internet, and brought it along with me to try out. We started at his apartment at 17 rue Beautreullis, where he supposedly died on July 3, 1971 in the third floor apartment's bathtub, (although some think he may have died at the Rock N' Roll Circus nightclub, which later became the Whisky a Go Go club, but this shut down five years ago now.) We saw the restaurant across the street where Jim and Pamela Courson regularly ate, and where their infamous fight occurred the last time they were seen there, on July 01st 1971. We took photos of ourselves in front of the corner shops where he bought his white Bordeaux wines and his cheeses. We visited his favourite place of escape, the beautiful Place de Vosges, where he would often go to do his writing and have a beer in one of the many surrounding bars. We found this all quite fascinating, and a bit surreal.   Cheryl   JOURNAL - CHERYL AND KEVIN IN EUROPE 2005   *PLEASE BE AWARE that I have added new journal additions, after the fact. I have notated the additions on the day added - on either NOV 30th OR DEC 01ST ...I am now 'caught up' and do not plan on adding any more, other than the day's events......THANKS FOR READING!   New Westminster - November 12th, 2005   Well here it goes, first entry...... Hmmm, the pressure is on!?! Been feeling slightly anxious and rushed these past few days, "there's like a buzzing like going on in my head like" with all of the details to sort and lists whirling about in me 'Ed for our musical trip abroad. Yippee! (she said excitedly, as she bounced hilariously off the walls in her padded room) Needless to say, Kevin and I are most excited about going to Europe (mostly the UK, with a pinch of France.) We are especially jazzed about playing with Drew Barron (guitar) in London on November 30. Kevin hasn't played with Drew since they backed up Jim Byrnes a couple of years back, here in Vancouver. The past week or so we've learned some new songs and recorded an original (On My Way - check out the short bit on the MP3 link) as well as the Cher song (also on the MP3 link) . I am doing my "mini Cher tribute" in London - it's always so much fun wearing her clothes (is there a draft in here, or do I just have too much skin exposed?).. Anyhoooo, I think I am beyond tired, still much to do, and I am multitasking in my head as I write. I will sign off by saying that "I hereby declare that it is my intention to write in this journal as much as I can while abroad, of course keeping in mind that I am limited to the availability of Internet Cafes and the generosity of future hospitable hosts" Ciao Bellas and Bollas. We're off in two days!   Cheryl