We set off from Edinburgh early on Monday morning for the first show of the “Loop the Loop” mini highlands and islands tour, leading up to the Loopallu festival this weekend. In the new blue hired pimp-mobile, complete with games console, we headed north for Portree on Skye. With a quick stop at House of Bruar to see where the elderly go when the bingo’s shut, we made good time through some of the nicest scenery we’ve been through this summer. Having spent the last few months haring up and down the M6 it was a welcome relief to see some hills and lochs.
We arrived on Skye via the super bridge (none of this speeding bonnie boat nonsense) and raced to the community centre in Portree, where an archery class was in full swing in the large hall, and a rather large sound system was being loaded into the small hall. The logistics of the stage size were tricky but with the liberal use of tables, coupled with Arne’s willingness to hide in a corner, we got everyone on ok. This was to be Grant’s first gig on bass, as an absent Ian led to a nifty reshuffle with Gill donning the massive beard and tassles required for Mr Turnbull’s position. It became evident that the PA was maybe a little large for the hall when, on the first hit of the kick drum, one of the light fittings fell out of the ceiling…
We were staying in a hostel down the hill from the main square, so we went and deposited our bags in the 8 bunk room. I was a little concerned by the expression on the hostel-keeper’s (if that’s the right word?) face as he said “Playing in the community centre? On a Monday? Ah well best of luck…” We popped back to the square to find a pub for a bit of tea (the biggest bit of haddock I’ve ever eaten, hacked of off an even bigger haddock that they keep in a warehouse in Mallaig) and swung back up the road to see how things were getting on. It appears the hostel-keeper (I’m sticking with it…) wasn’t far off with his doom and gloom prophecising as there were about as many people in the badminton class next door as there was at the gig. Luckily I was mentally preparing for zero attendance so things were looking up, personally. We battered through the set which was surprisingly nervy (it’s slightly backwards but the fewer people you’re playing to the harder you feel you have to work collectively to keep people interested), then popped of stage for a few dozen Jaigermeisters (as the apparent sponsors of the community centre) before heading back for a sleep.
The next morning we went down to the shore to film an acoustic version of the “imaginatively titled” ukulele song on Grant’s wee camera, then set off for our next destination, driving through the bleak Cuillins, back over the bridge and east to the Corran ferry, then down the coast to Lochaline for the ferry to Mull. We were playing at the An Tobar arts centre up the hill in the gaudily-painted Tobermory, a great wee place with some of the best flapjacks known to man available in the café. The view across the bay was quite something, and we were staying in a hostel down by the harbour side beside a shop claiming to stock “Balamory products”. The hostel-keeper was reasonably strict about the doors being locked at 12 but we explained that by the time we had “packed up the van” it may be nearer half past so we had an extra half hour for a beer down the road before we were spending the night in a boat. Makes you wonder why they bother with keys…
Ukulele Song on Skye
The gig was good, better populated than the previous night’s, and Grant was getting more comfortable in his “player-manager” role (earning him the nickname Souness for the duration of the tour) and we were all pretty happy when we got off the stage. The next morning we took a wee drive into the hills to film an acoustic version of And They All Fell Into The Sea, which attracted an audience in the form of one gentleman who stopped his car down the hill on the main road for a gander, before heading back to Fishnish for the ferry and drive up to Inverness.
We were playing at Hootananny, with 3 Daft Monkeys and local heroes Lowtide Revelry, and really looking forward to it after our last sojourn to the Raigmore a few months back. We had use of the upstairs bar for a dressing room so there was a ton of ukulele bashing and trumpet noodling going on, and a good bit of sleeping from Kas who seemed impervious to the racket. The place was buzzing and we had a thoroughly enjoyable night before heading back to the hostel for a bit of sleeping to prepare for the “wilds” of Stornoway the following morning…
