Summer storms seem to have settled into a pattern this week on the flatlands of Denmark’s largest land mass. Last night’s storm was getting ready to make a repeat appearance. Herning, Herning, have we been here? I thought to myself. Once the strange looking box appeared in the distance I knew we had. It was on the weird, way out, whacky adventure that was the ‘Rambling Bob’ tour in 2011. What an experience that was. It was astonishing how different two touring parties could be. We rolled into each venue every day, laughing, smiling and cracking jokes and for them, well… things were different.

København, as it is correctly spelled in Danish, has been our ‘hub’ for a few days. The D’Angleterre hotel in the centre of the city is almost certainly the most popular for touring bands. We bump into them all over the place and today it was The 1975. They were just leaving, heading for Oslo of all places. We left the hotel on another day-trip by plane, a short hop to Herning once we had cleared a makeshift security pantomime on the tarmac directly next to the jet. We all understand and respect the regulations but sometimes, it’s just, funny.

Åround about the time we arrived at the Herning Box, soup was ready, (Steve secretly ensures this is the case) and the soup dragons descended. Then it was sound check and dinner as usual, before an extraordinarily long wait until show time which was for some reason set for 9pm. By the time it came, we were itching to get on. But what a lovely, polite, appreciative audience. Another wonderful night and then it was swiftly back to the plane where Tijana had plates of small, what I assume were Swedish meatballs with mashed potato ready and waiting. Along with a few drinks, naturally. A quick check on the weather radar showed a potentially perilous journey ahead dodging the storms but in the event, it was pretty straightforward as the angry tempest seemed to simply disappear.

Landing in the pouring rain in Copenhagen once again, we watched forked lightening in the distance and waited for the cars to gain their ramp access before stepping off the plane, laughing of course, and the short run back to the hotel. Some of the guys, continued the party and found a bar around the corner and unusually, I wasn’t one of them. With a day off ahead and a round of golf on the cards with three of the crew boys, I decided to call it a day… and what a day.