surprisingly subdued once we were outside, although I could tell she was deliriously happy, and I guessed it was due to the tension of the past couple of days draining from her. That being so, we still wanted to celebrate right there and then, but unfortunately her work commitment wouldn’t allow: she had to get back and start on those illustrations. Also, I had to get together with Albert Lee and work on arrangements for next week’s lightning tour. It was going to be a heavy schedule, and I looked forward to it; long time since I’d been on the road, and I’d already half forgotten the hardships involved.
We drove from Bunbury and jabbered all the way to the city, amazed at our good fortune and busily making plans. Midge and I had a lot of sweat ahead of us, but we knew it was going to be worth it. Oh yeah, we knew.
Moving
The five or six weeks that followed were just a dreamy kind of blur, events moved so fast. The Everlys tour was a sell-out and I enjoyed every minute – tearing around the countryside for six concerts in various towns didn’t faze me one bit. I was on a high which had nothing to do with illegal substances. Before I went on the road I had the chance of seeing the results of Midge’s painstaking nights-and-days’ toil, and I have to say it, despite my natural bias, they were BRILLIANT. The campaign was aimed specifically at toddlers and the art director had envisioned fairy-tale settings – white castles, dark forests, prancing elves, the usual ingredients – with our little modern-day tykes superimposed photographically among them. Clever photography would ensure (hopefully) that they blended in well. I forget how the copyline went, but it was pretty crass, I know that. And yet I could imagine the posters working: they presented the sort of nostalgic images mothers would love, and the clothes themselves were cutesy-stylish enough for those same mothers not to feel they were regressing their infants. I couldn’t make up my mind whether the message was blatant or subtle, but if they were successful I was sure a lot of credit would be due to Midge’s artwork.
Because of her moderate fame and my ability to keep in regular employment musically speaking, obtaining a mortgage was no great problem, even though we wanted it in joint names and we were only cohabiting. Probably the fact that either one of us could have coped easily with the repayments on our own had a lot to do with the Building Society manager’s favourable attitude. Not that we were seeking that much; we’d been tucking away savings into that very Society for such an event ever since we’d been together, and the amount had risen to a tidy heap.
We managed to get down to the cottage only a couple of times over the next few weeks, and on both days the weather was overcast so the effect was not quite the same as before. Sunshine can produce all kinds of warmth, not just physical. I was even more pleased, though, for on both occasions the place looked better to me.
I arranged for a firm of local builders to invade as soon as final contracts were exchanged, providing them with a list of faults that required urgent attention, and another list of lesser defects that would also need treatment afterwards. Painting and decorating we could manage ourselves, but anything that smacked of technical skill had to be tackled by them. We agreed a date for the workmen to start, and on that very morning came the odd phone call.
Midge was out in the rain on a shopping expedition and I was re-stringing my Martin, feeling slightly ashamed that I’d allowed the instrument to die on me, when O’Malley, the foreman, came on the line. He wanted to know if I’d made a mistake with my faults list. There was water in the kitchen to be sure, and the inside wall that backed onto the embankment would need complete damp-coursing, but he couldn’t for the life of him locate any dampness in the walls upstairs at all (no, he didn’t add another ‘at
We drove from Bunbury and jabbered all the way to the city, amazed at our good fortune and busily making plans. Midge and I had a lot of sweat ahead of us, but we knew it was going to be worth it. Oh yeah, we knew.
Moving
The five or six weeks that followed were just a dreamy kind of blur, events moved so fast. The Everlys tour was a sell-out and I enjoyed every minute – tearing around the countryside for six concerts in various towns didn’t faze me one bit. I was on a high which had nothing to do with illegal substances. Before I went on the road I had the chance of seeing the results of Midge’s painstaking nights-and-days’ toil, and I have to say it, despite my natural bias, they were BRILLIANT. The campaign was aimed specifically at toddlers and the art director had envisioned fairy-tale settings – white castles, dark forests, prancing elves, the usual ingredients – with our little modern-day tykes superimposed photographically among them. Clever photography would ensure (hopefully) that they blended in well. I forget how the copyline went, but it was pretty crass, I know that. And yet I could imagine the posters working: they presented the sort of nostalgic images mothers would love, and the clothes themselves were cutesy-stylish enough for those same mothers not to feel they were regressing their infants. I couldn’t make up my mind whether the message was blatant or subtle, but if they were successful I was sure a lot of credit would be due to Midge’s artwork.
Because of her moderate fame and my ability to keep in regular employment musically speaking, obtaining a mortgage was no great problem, even though we wanted it in joint names and we were only cohabiting. Probably the fact that either one of us could have coped easily with the repayments on our own had a lot to do with the Building Society manager’s favourable attitude. Not that we were seeking that much; we’d been tucking away savings into that very Society for such an event ever since we’d been together, and the amount had risen to a tidy heap.
We managed to get down to the cottage only a couple of times over the next few weeks, and on both days the weather was overcast so the effect was not quite the same as before. Sunshine can produce all kinds of warmth, not just physical. I was even more pleased, though, for on both occasions the place looked better to me.
I arranged for a firm of local builders to invade as soon as final contracts were exchanged, providing them with a list of faults that required urgent attention, and another list of lesser defects that would also need treatment afterwards. Painting and decorating we could manage ourselves, but anything that smacked of technical skill had to be tackled by them. We agreed a date for the workmen to start, and on that very morning came the odd phone call.
Midge was out in the rain on a shopping expedition and I was re-stringing my Martin, feeling slightly ashamed that I’d allowed the instrument to die on me, when O’Malley, the foreman, came on the line. He wanted to know if I’d made a mistake with my faults list. There was water in the kitchen to be sure, and the inside wall that backed onto the embankment would need complete damp-coursing, but he couldn’t for the life of him locate any dampness in the walls upstairs at all (no, he didn’t add another ‘at
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