Wednesday, 19 January 2011

Infinity Pool with a Pina Colada.

Malta got in touch. They had a gig for me in June. After chatting with my friend about our plans for the summer, we realised we were both scheduled to be in Malta at the same time. After more research, we realised we were playing the same gig. Ace! 

He’s a southerner so was on a different flight to me. It was a one off show. You can’t really tour Malta. It’s too small. 

I boarded the flight in Manchester and watched a vampire film on my laptop. I kept having to close my eyes because of all the blood. Half way to my destination I got a bit uncomfortable at the realisation that, apart from babies, I was by far the youngest person on board. I was worried about that. Don’t think vampire films are good for me.

I was collected from the airport by two handsome men. They drove me to a hotel. By this time it was getting on for midnight and I could hardly contain my excitement at the thought that my friend was already there. On checking into my room I found two bags of locally made biscuits with a little note saying “for Miss Elizabeth”. I've since learned that posh hotels do that kind of thing by default, but nevertheless I’d say that was probably one of the loveliest things that's ever happened to me.

The hotel room was huge. I ran around and eventually found my friend sitting out on his balcony in the warm air with a beer in his hand. We sat there and looked out at the sleepy vista as I lamented the lack of drinking establishments in the vicinity. There was no dancing to be had to I went to bed.

The next morning we walked out to find somewhere I could purchase a fridge magnet from. I went through a phase of collecting them. I didn’t have to look far – Malta is literally FULL of fridge magnets. Then we sat out on one of the rocky outcrops that stuck out into the sea. We had another beer and then I returned to the hotel to try and locate the swimming pool. The swimming pool was on the roof, obviously. There were men in white trousers roaming around with trays of drinks, offering massages and towels to the tourists who lay on sun loungers trying to change the colour of their skin. The swimming pool was no ordinary swimming pool. It was one of those infinity pools. The ones that drop off the side of the building suddenly. 

I had to reign in my desire to drink more and more pina coladas by the pool. After all, the very reason I was there was to do a gig that night. I didn’t want to turn up drunk and sunburned to my own gig.

The handsome men picked us up from the hotel and took us to sound check. The gig was great and the air was balmy. Sat outside while my friend played his set, I listened to his guitar as I watched the pigeons pottering about in the warm evening.

The next morning saw me heading back to Manchester, but not before I’d had another dip in the pool and one more Pina Colada.

I can’t stress enough that my experience of touring is not usually anything like Malta was. 

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