all of us to our wonderful tour manager, Barry Mead, for making it all happen. So far, so good.
After the seven hour transatlantic flight we touched down in Boston, Massachusetts, USA in the pouring rain. An hour or so later we were through security without a hitch and settled in our 'bus' for the two hour drive to Hartford and the first of our hotels.
As we pulled out of the parking lot Barry gazed out of the window and said "American Rain". "Good title for a song", I replied.
Sliding down the turnpike to the Interstate Highway put me in mind of another song: James Taylor's 'Sweet Baby James', especially the opening lines of verse two: "The first of December was covered with snow and so was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston."
Not snow in our case but hard rain, teeming down as we careered along the slick highway into the deep, dark American night.
"There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway, a song that they sing when they take to the sea, a song that they sing of their home in the sky, maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep......
but singing works just fine for me. "
Rock on James.