North Carolina, a place that James Taylor says he’s been to ‘in his mind’.
Our hosts are the delightful Frank and Cathy here in Charlotte. Their house is the size of a palace. They say it isn’t, which is a lie. I’m considering doing a Tony Hawks and carting the fridge round the rest of the tour just so I can take it home to charge a handsome rent on it as a studio flat in Brighton.
The streets are dappled with shade from grand old trees that escort and guide us round the suburbs of the city. The heat is extraordinary. Like you could slow roast a shank on your face if you wanted. Each house seems bigger than the next and I keep thinking the cast of Desperate Housewives could pop out any minute.
Then, something beautiful happens and my life is changed forever. I hear this, the most beautiful song, with a strong lyric that would soften the hardest of hearts.
Beautiful, although I’m still convinced ‘tractor’ is a euphemism. Inspiration hits me that these blogs should be punctuated and shaped by the songs we hear on the country music stations we listen to while I’m here.
The show goes great. Such lovely people and i meet Steve, the ex-ceo of Gibson guitars/ Nashville. While i never actually asked him and we’d not met before, he didn’t think to bring me a Robert Johnson parlour L1 to either play or keep, which i think is a bit mean. Silly old Steve!
My air conditioning cold continues. Any tips on how to combat a pathetic Brit abroad would be gratefully received. Right, off to bed now. We go to southport tomorrow, where dawsons creek was filmed…I miss those kids, the most self aware teenagers EVER!