Weeks 6 & 7

The weeks are blending one into the other, with no chance for me to keep up wi…

No, of course they’re not!

It’s that it was Christmas last week, in case you missed it, and SH*T GOT REAL!!

We partied like there was no tom…

No, of course we didn’t!!

But I was lucky enough to have Kat AND my parents joining me and I thought I would dedicate some time to them, rather than blogging… Which still remains my best, most favouritest thing to do, though.

My parents came to see the show in Marburg and they loved it. I stayed with them on Christmas eve and, given that in Germany every single shop/restaurant/public toilet is usually closed by10am on that day, we spent a lovely afternoon just the four of us, eating bread, fish (I’m not even kidding), cheese and….PASTRY!!!

I’ve got photographic proof:

And you know how they say that if you don’t eat sweets for ages, your taste-buds re-adjust and you don’t like them anymore?

B****cks.

Best meal OF. MY. LIFE.

Kat joined me and the guys on the bus and I think she had a really good time! On Christmas day, Patrick organized a bus quiz (as in a quiz done on the bus, not testing our general knowledge about buses…) and in the evening, after the show, we had our Secret Santa. I got a thermal mug for my cappuccino!! RESULT. #theyknowmesowell

And Michael seemed quite pleased with his bikram yoga voucher.

Oh, no. I just blew my cover. He would never have found out.

As I adjust to life on tour mour and mour, I’ve noticed there are two habits I’m finding hard to shake off:

1. Singing during the day.

Since we’re blasting out 27 songs, for 2.5 hours, pretty much every night, it would be a good idea NOT to rock some funky tunes at breakfast, or in the shower, or while blending vegetables, or on the toilet (as a direct consequence of vegetable blending)… But it’s SO tempting. Because I LOVE singing! Yet, I feel like this tour is teaching me an important lesson; never sing, unless they pay you to do so. Screw passion and joy, money is what really matters. In fact, after this, I might go into banking.

1. Kicking ANYTHING I can, when I’m barefoot in my hotel room: from luggage, to table legs, to beds, to rubbish bins, to walls… Preferably with just my little toes and in rapid succession, like an exhilarating pinball of pain.

I haven’t got photographic proof of that, so this mug shot of me after steaming with Olbas Oil will have to do. If you look close enough, you can see a single tear streaming down my right cheek. If you look even closer, I’m Sinead O’Connor.