Redrum.

I'd like to be one of those people who is cynically cool about touring with a band. You know the sort : 'Another nameless town, another faceless hotel. Sigh.'

But I'm not that person. I love arriving in a new town, all shiny and anonymous. I love staying in a different hotel every night. Kate checks us in at reception and I hare off to bounce on the bed, look in all the cupboards and drawers and use every single complimentary item simultaneously. If you were to knock on my door five minutes after my arrival you would find me slathering myself in Body Lotion whilst drinking a cup of tea with a shower cap on. I've never used a shower cap in my life but if I arrive at a hotel and can't locate one in the bathroom I am genuinely disappointed. Also, washing with miniature soaps and shampoo bottles is just more fun. You can pretend to be a giant in the shower.

This hotel is somewhat different though. All of the following observations could well be the result of sleep deprivation, but I'm going to share them anyway. If for no other reason than it will stop me checking inside the cupboard for the third time. I'm not checking for knife wielding psycho's by the way. I'm checking for monsters.

We got back from the gig around half eleven tonight. Adrian pottered off to his room to watch the latest episode of Game of Thrones, apparently something appalling happened to a bunch of fictional characters that no one is allowed to talk about. Keir had a Thai meal to eat and consequently regret at 2am, and Kate and I just wanted to have hot showers and get a good nights sleep. I noticed during the post show meet and greet that a lot of the lovely people having their CD's signed would say “Thank you for coming. Here.” There was an unmistakable full stop between 'coming' and 'here'. As though they were either apologising for being so far out of the way, or giving some coded message implying that they were being held here against their will. Which reminds me, before I continue with my own personal episode of The Shining, there was a little girl at the theatre tonight. She came up to the counter before the show started and was very intently examining every item on the table. Her mum, who was strikingly beautiful, asked what she wanted and after a full minute of weighing the options she requested A T-shirt, a bag, a CD and a poster. She then opened a small terribly glamorous clutch and removed a zip lock freezer bag absolutely stuffed with dollars from which she counted out the required amount.

'She's been saving for tonight,' her mum laughed, blushing slightly. 'Sweetie, why don't you pay for the CD and I'll treat you to the rest.'

The little girl shook her head once. 'No it's ok. I've got this.'

This kid was fascinating, really serious but adorable too.

'Hey, Kate's going to come out afterwards and sign stuff if you want to meet her,' I say. 'She'll have her picture taken with you too if you like.'

The girl gives me a polite smile but I notice her little hands are shaking as I hand over her purchases.

'Come on mum,' she says walking purposefully towards the auditorium.

The mum smiles at me apologetically. 'She's beside herself with excitement. Believe it or not. She loves Kate.'

Anyway, back to what I hope won't be my last blog with the addendum 'And she was never seen again'.

I come in the room, put my key on the bed and turn the shower on in the bathroom. I come back in to the bedroom and my key isn't on the bed. I check under all my crap and its not there. I eventually find it zipped inside my bag. Overtired, I think. I put the key back on the bed and go about unpacking my PJ's all the while glancing sideways at the key to make sure its still there. I think briefly of Adrian telling me the other day how he sometimes gets bad vibes from a room. I hate the word 'vibes' so broadly dismissed what he was saying. Now I'm beginning to get bad vibes. This is entirely the product of an overactive imagination but once you start down that road you're sort of fucked.

I get in the shower and am trying to enjoy being a giant with my tiny complimentary products when I suddenly remember the shower scene in The Grudge. I tentatively check the back of my head for an eyeball that shouldn't be there. Shower time is kind of ruined and I hurry through the last verse of FE FI FO FUM and scurry out.

Once I'm in my PJ's I decide I want a cigarette and head out to find the smoking area. The corridors are silent and empty and long. And they all look the same. I finally get to the reception area and there's no one there. The large room is low lit and a small television is showing a late night film, the screen flickering, completely in keeping with my now slightly elevated heart rate. It feels as though someone was just sat here watching and snuck off when they heard me coming. Its not out of the question. I used to work in a hotel and I'd frequently hide from guests. But in all fairness I was shit at my job. I say 'Hello?' and the word ricochets off the walls like a ball thrown in an empty gym.
I find an exit and stand in the drizzling rain of a darkened courtyard smoking my rollie. I toy with the idea of phoning Adrian and seeing if he wants to come down for a smoke but he will have fallen asleep listening to Dr Carl by now. When he first told me about Dr Carl I assumed it was one of those late night lonely heart lines. But no, apparently Dr Carl is just “some dude who knows, like, everything.” Like what? “Like people call in and ask why do radiators get a coat of black paint before they're painted another colour.” And what's the answer? “I don't know. As soon as Dr Carl starts explaining anything I fall asleep. It's awesome.” 'kay. Adrian met Dr Carl when he was younger and asked him about Aliens and other life forms out there. He was bright eyed and bushy tailed. Dr Carl gave him a level stare and replied: This is all there is.

I make my way back through the deserted reception area and get lost in the identical corridors. I come to a dead end and some ornately carved wooden doors. Above them in faded gold lettering: 'The Grand Ballroom'. I do a swift U-turn. There is no fucking way I'm going in there.
After a few more wrong turns I find a snack dispensing machine and put all my loose change in it. If these walls could speak they would probably scream GET OUT! But that's no reason to forego a Snickers Bar and a packet of cheese twists. It took another three or four wrong turns to find my way back and that only happened because I left a trail of cheese twists on the carpet behind me.
I'm back in my room now. And apart from opening my curtains to find a brick wall instead of a window nothing else untoward has happened. I'm sleeping with the lights on though.

We're leaving at ten tomorrow, after I have made full use of the inclusive breakfast. The next show is in a town called Renmark and then we're off to a baptist church in Adelaide. The gigs in churches are the best, a lot of them are very beautiful even though they do look brand new by english standards.

So yeah, on we go, another nameless town, another faceless hotel. Yay!
Sleep tight. One of us should.