Marguerite drops into her seat at dinner in Anaheim looking as though she’s just been mugged. The explanation is simple enough – it’s LA and consequently, she has just submitted a guest list that outnumbers the attendance at the band’s first ever gig by a factor of three to one. Shows in London, New York and LA tend to be ever thus. They’re not just gigs, they’re mini music biz events. There is an aftershow tonight though and it is unusually good. Maybe I’m just a grumpy old man, but aftershows tend to do little to excite me. They’re usually full of people who I’ve never met before – it’s rather like gatecrashing a stranger’s wedding reception. Tonight is nice, though. The music is chilled, the sushi is excellent and the company is most agreeable.

We’re on the ground in Phoenix for less than six hours. I arrive with boxes, bags and other various items of cack that I’ve ammassed through this touring leg. I need to ram it into any available flightcase, but realise that I’m in competition. Everyone has been buying Christmas presents, treating themselves and otherwise accumulating stuff just the same way I have. Every flightcase is absolutely stuffed to bursting. Around the venue, folks are sitting on flightcases in an attempt to get them to shut. I manage to cram all mine in and pray that the plane actually manages to get off the ground and we see it all again in Sheffield.

It’s the last show in the USA for a while, so the fellas bid the nation as a whole farewell with one last blast through the setlist. ‘Til we see ya again – so long folks!

It seems somewhat fitting that we’re marking the end of our work here in the US (for now at least), celebrating a holiday that, as Brits, we have no understanding of whatsoever. We’re all sat in the hotel until the evening flight, so Franksy has organised us a Thanksgiving feast.

It strikes us partway through the meal that not one of us around the table is American. Thanksgiving, though, is about the fact that the hard work is done, that the harvest has been good. The shows and the whole touring experience this time out have been excellent. It definitely feels as though we’ve arrived at a point to take stock, to slump on the sofa and pat our bellies. It would feel this way that is, if the UK tour wasn’t starting as soon as we’re back. In the meantime, the pumpkin soup is excellent.

Roadie #42