Everyone knows that the life of a musician is one long busman’s holiday – that the contracts, invoices, accounts, tax returns, copyright, logistics, travel, accommodation, technical equipment, instrument maintainance, stock, merchandising, advertising, PR, websites, social media, mailing lists, photoshoots, not to say sourcing material, arrangements, individual practice, rehearsals, recordings, soundchecks and actual gigs are mere child’s play, piffling inconsequential trivia eclipsed by a continuous orgy of musical and extra-curricular self-indulgence. For surely that is what it is, as we are doing ‘what we enjoy’.
To prove this, we will show you some holiday pics from our March jaunt – a few snapshots of our month of hedonism en vacances, to give you a tantalising glimpse of the Life of Reilly chez Faustus.
If life’s a beach, the Isle of Man goes to prove it. What could be better than, after a very early start from Cockermouth, to arrive, via John Lennon Airport (he would be so proud) at the seaside in Peel for a pre-soundcheck stroll?
And he were are, taking a break from skimming stones to pose seductively.
Of oourse, it’s not all fun and games. To prove it, here’s a shot of Peel Castle, which we examined during the educational leg of our sojourn.
As well as avid historians, we have amongst our midst a sole conchologist.
Also a vascular arborist.
The above was taken not on the beach, but at Danebury Ring in Hampshire the previous week, during a Sunday afternoon post-prandial dog walk. Has middle-age truly arrived?
And finally, on the proceeds of our March tour, here’s our charter jet taking us to our remote luxury Caribbean island hideaway.