Article #63274

When is a valise not a valise? When you’re in a foreign land where they call it a holdall

The band I’m in is cruising to the end of its tour, with two nights at Victoria Hall in Settle, headlining a weekend festival. The weather on the drive up from Manchester is unpromising, but by the time we reach Settle the sun is out, the festival already under way.

Touring has been hard on our stuff. In the green room people are changing strings and swapping out faulty cables. Wives – not mine; she’s not coming until the next day – begin to arrive by train.