From then on, early mornings often found me driving down the A10 to Bermondsey Market in Greater London, off the Old Kent Rd. Especially, when David was away on tour. He bought me a little Morris Minor Estate that enabled me to get around on my own and transport our findings at the markets. My American independence was returning. I loved driving in the early morning as the sun rose over the countryside painting the sky in crimson and pink. The sheep and horses grazing in the countryside added to the majesty of the morning.
The Beauty of England was entering into my soul bringing love. I would get up around 4:00 a.m. so I would reach there as the market opened. In the winter, it was dark when I arrived. I joined in the crowds of people scurrying about with flashlights from vans to stalls desperately trying to find the treasure first. Pearly King and Queens would sometimes be there too. Jellied eels and hot tea stands kept us warm and fed. Though I must confess, I have never been able to try them because I am allergic. However, a hot cuppa was a treat. Besides warming me from the inside, it also helped to warm my fingers, which protruded from my cut-off gloves.
There were rows and rows of little precious things and other antiques from eras gone by. Once I saw two ceramic white pots with handles in one of the stalls. I asked the chap selling them, how much were they and if I could bake with them in the oven. Well, he laughed nudging his mate and in a strong cockney accent he said, "Hey, Stan, this lady's a wonderin' if these pots ere' could be used for bakin'?" They both broke out into uproarious laughter. I did not get the joke and just smiled repeating my question, "Well? Can I?" "Lady are ya sur' you wantin' to bakin' in dem?" "Sure why not?" "Well love, these ere' pots are chamber pots from days of old. Folks use to pee in dem in da' night." My mouth dropped at the thought. Thank God, it was dark for my face turned scarlet. "Oh dear, really?" They simply nodded their heads with a cheeky smile. I decided not to buy them and walked away humbled. Oh well, yet another day in the life of an American in England.
CHAPTER 6
OBSCURED BY CLOUDS
1972
The Floyd accepted a request to write the music for a soundtrack for a French film, La Vallee, by Barbet Schroeder. It was the first time that I had ever visited a foreign speaking country. The album was recorded at Strawberry Studios at Chateau d' Herouville, just outside of Paris. All of the crew stayed with us at the Chateau including Puddy, Pete Watts' girlfriend. I loved French cuisine. It was my favorite food to cook in America, but the amount of garlic this French chef put in the carrot salad was overwhelming. I have come to love it along with the lemon juice and olive oil dressing that saturated the salad. I have made variations on the theme since, with orange juice, cranberries and garlic! YUMMM.
The schedule for the Floyd was very intense, watching the film repeatedly. They did not have time to make long dreamy songs like Echoes. In the end, the album was created in just two weeks. We ate, slept and recorded there in the Chateau. A large table worked perfect to serve Dinner and in the evening doubled for the road crew's contests. I remember once Chris Adamson won because he ate the most amount of raw potatoes and Little Mick won for eating the most amount of fried eggs. I don't remember how they felt the next day. The event was hard enough for me to watch never mind digest. I still remember the laughter.
Puddy and I spent a lot of time riding the Metro to French markets. Getting lost and seeking help from many that passed by. Neither of us spoke French... None whatsoever. Well, that is not entirely true. We had some help with the basics. David spoke fluent French and wrote down a few words for us on tiny pieces of paper. We got lost once on the metro trying to get to the flea market so we decided to take a taxi. As we were getting out a bicyclist ran into the open door. He crashed onto the pavement severely damaging his bike. To my relief he was all right. A terrible French flurry built between our taxi driver and him. Arms were waving and insults were flying. In the end, I gave him what little money I could towards a new bicycle.
After one outing, upon returning to the Chateau wearing our new fluffy imitation furry platform boots, Nick Mason commented, "You girls should get in a bit of Culture." It was the first time that I had ever heard that word. "Culture... what is that Nick?" We both asked, getting a bit flush with embarrassment because of the innuendo in the tone of his voice. "You know a few museums and galleries and monuments. Perfect place for it,"he said. Admittedly and perhaps indignantly, we didn't do it that time. Since then, I have become a serious Culture buff. I have become a messenger for the need of Culture and Beauty and its importance for maintaining World Peace.
CHAPTER 7
DARK SIDE GOES ON THE ROAD
JAPAN TOUR 1972
Between the two weeks it took to record the album, the Floyd did gigs in Japan. It was a long, long, flight. Most of us took some Mandies (Mandrake), a form of happy sleeping pill, which always made me giggle until I fell asleep. Japan was different from France. Some might call it a culture shock for this American at the time, and perhaps it was for them as well? However, this was their second trip. I often felt we were living a modern day Shogun walking down the streets with our long hair and different accents. When we first arrived at the airport, there was a banner hanging over the door at the terminal saying, Welcome PINK FROYD. The Japanese had difficulty in pronouncing our L's and it seems even writing it. We had to take a large bus to our hotel and David was sitting next to the window. There was a surge of people towards the bus, flashing cameras everywhere.
David noticed that one of the girls had forgot to take off herlens cap so he was pointing to her through the window that separated them, trying to tell her. She got so excited that he acknowledged her that she did not notice until the bus drove away. She slumped in a pile of tears at the lost opportunity. No photos but she did have a memory that David Gilmour had acknowledged her.
One morning I was ordering room service for David and me. "Please Sir, may we have two orders of eggs." "YES Ma'am." "With two orange juices, bacon, toast and tea with milk?" "YES Ma'am." It never came. I had to order it again. Again, it never came. We decided to go down to the restaurant hungry and confused. The day was getting on and the Floyd had things to do. The queue was long and when we finally got to the front, the maître d' acted as though we did not exist. He kept taking the people behind us to their table. Finally, I stood in front of him and caught his eye, "Hello. May we have a table, Sir?" It worked; he took us to a table. Later, when I related the story to our promoter, I came to understand. That "YES Ma'am" means I hear you, but I do not necessarily understand. When they ignore you, it usually means they do not approve of who you are. In their world, if they do not acknowledge that you exist, they do not have to serve you. We must have been an unusual sight looking back compared to the usual tourist they serve. Platforms, blue jeans, long hair, T-shirts, and perhaps a cologne that did not agree. Even our different mannerisms were a bit loud in comparison to their inherent quietude. Even their rush hour seemed to breathe of stillness compared to London.
The tour started in Tokyo. A bustling city mixed with many cultures and large billboards with flashing lights. The culture shock really began as we went deeper into the countryside. Finding Mc Donald's in Tokyo amazed me. I gave it a try and everything tasted like fish. Not at all the taste I was accustomed to. One evening our promoter took us out for a special Japanese dinner. Women in beautiful Kimonos served us as we sat on the floor. Thank God, we had to remove our knee-high platform boots before sitting down because I fear that it would have been impossible to do, as I was also wearing very tight jeans. They were so tight in those days that I had to lie down on the bed to zip them up.
The evening began as we sat on the floor atop of fine pillows made from Japanese silk. Warm saké , green and brown teas alternating between each course to cleanse ourpalates. I had never eaten raw fish before never mind Octopus tails. Over the years, I have come to love raw fish, but not the Octopus tails. Through this experience a seed was planted that would become my future way of eating - Simple, Beautiful and Sacred. Our t
rip also inspired an interest in the Art of Bonsai, which further led me to appreciate and admire their philosophy in the Art of Living.
We all bought cameras, it seemed to be the new jewelry for the tour. Puddy and I went off to visit the food market. The colors of all the vegetables and spices were so vibrant. I took picture after picture not knowing what I was doing with a Nikon. As we went deeper into the market, I noticed a monk wearing black buying some vegetables. His head was shaven and he walked onto the next stall as though he was floating. The calm of his presence held my attention. I so wanted to take his photo.
I hurried up to him and in my form of sign language asked if I could take his picture. Fumbling with the settings being a novice, I panicked because it was not going smoothly. He stood for a moment and turned to walk away. I think he thought I had succeeded but I had not. I once again hurried up to him and asked again. He was very patient with me. He waited again in his silence. I was not sure if this was appropriate in their culture, however, he allowed me to enter his presence. I can still feel the moment. It was like a doorway for me to enter one day, for there is no time where the soul lives.
Puddy and I both wore tall platforms, which was the fashion at the time. We looked like amazons compared to the young students we would pass in the street when we went on our adventures. Going shopping was a challenge despite being a slender size 10. It seemed the Japanese shops had all the sizes below which I never knew existed until that trip. They are a tiny but an elegant people. Their creativity in all aspects, inspired me as I became aware of how its intent was to reveal the Sacred in all of life. I was beginning to understand why Nick suggested for us to seek out the Culture of a place. It wasn't just the Museums and Buildings. It was the people also.
On this tour, the Floyd were testing out Darkside of the Moon in preparation to record it when they got home. On the first night, the audience did nothing after each song. We didn't understand because the gig was super. One thing we had to adjust to was that Japanese audiences showed no emotion during the concert. Puddy and I were a bit perplexed for we were used to the American audiences who freely expressed their feelings. Stadiums lit by the little flames of their lighters, I always loved it. Thousands of them adding to the beauty they had just heard.
During intermission, we were going downstairs when a group of fans approached us for autographs. I said, "No Pink Floyd!" They nodded and spoke something in Japanese while opening the long rectangular program holding their pens. They kept nodding as they pointed to David's picture. I shook my head saying, "Sorry, NO Pink Floyd!" as our pace picked up to escape. I was looking over my shoulder and did not notice that we had reached the stairs. I started to fall and could not catch my balance because of my 4-inch platforms. The pictures that went through my mind were ghastly as I saw my fate below. I tensed preparing myself to hit the bottom when a saviour from the crowd behind me grabbed my arm that was waving in the air. Suddenly, my body released the tension and fear with the realization that the nightmare was over. My forward motion stopped and for a fraction of a second so had time. I went into suspended animation until I came back to reality. It was like a rewind of the experience as he pulled me back up onto the lobby floor safe.
We went back to our seats at the mixer for the second half. Our sanctuary we thought. Once the gig was finished and the last note played, the audience went berserk! Their behaviour was like chalk and cheese. Wild frantic clapping accompanied with screams and tears of rapture filled the air. Like ants that fled their broken nest, they descended towards the mixer. The roadies and sound engineer, Peter Watts, surrounded us and got us to safety backstage. Phew, but it was not over.
As we left the back of the hall where our limos were waiting, they descended, trying to get to their stars in a mad fervor. I pushed David into the car before me, blocking their grasping hands trying to grab his T-shirt. I became his protector. My lioness arose from the depth of my heart to enable me to have the strength to stop them until he reached the safety of the limo. The drivers had the engines ready to go once we were all safe inside. The limos slowly pierced the desperate waiting crowd in convoy. Their hands wiping against the windows as we left them behind making our way back to the hotel. I began to understand a bit about what the Beatles had experienced every day from the mania stirred from their idolatry as my adrenaline calmed.
The next gig was in Kyoto. The Floyd made a mad dash to the reception because they had discovered that there were some traditional Japanese rooms in each hotel. They were like little boys. Every time we checked into a new hotel, it became a game. David got one for us this time. It was a special experience. The hotel had been a Traditional Shogun Mansion, which was converted. As we entered our room, silent tranquility started to touch my soul with its Beauty. There was a traditional garden with glass sliding doors with a miniature water feature. A sunken square bath you had to sit in instead of lying down. We slept on a futon on the bamboo- matted floor that rolled up in the morning after we went out for the day.
We decided not to have a European breakfast this time and tried a traditional Japanese one instead. Overlooking the garden was a low table and bamboo mat. We ate tofu, a bowl of rice accompanied with pickles, pieces of fish, and miso soup. The sound of the running water in the garden soothed our minds. It was a new and special way to start the day with the Art of Eating in stillness. On their day off, we went to visit the old city of Kyoto, where the main temples and the Nijo Castle were. My most memorable was the Ninomaru Palace, which was inside the Nijo Castle where one of their famous Shoguns lived. Rumor was, the appointed head gardener sat outside for a whole year before designing and planting the garden. He wanted to know the movements of the light and shadow throughout every season. Every aspect of Japanese Architecture also carries this focus and intent to be one with nature and created in Beauty.
The squeaking floorboards made the sound of nightingales as we walked throughout the building, captivating us en masse with the other tourists. Apparently, this was intentional. It was their burglar alarm forewarning the Shogun of night attacks and assassins. Here again, they were inspired to honor the sacredness of our human natures ensuring peace. They valued this, which made a legacy of sound and how to use it to protect. Not to create sounds that destroyed. I often wish our burglar alarms could do the same. I just do not understand why we choose to live in such noise. We meandered through the village feeling very much at home when we came upon a unique store that sold knives. David was in heaven and bought a few to bring home. I am not sure if he could do that now with all the new laws about transporting knives between countries. We stopped for lunch in another home of a Shogun. Each section of Japan that we visited specialized in a local commodity from their area.
In this palace, their specialty was umeboshi plum. We sat on low platforms amongst an orchard of pink and white flowering umeboshi trees. Everything was flavored with umeboshi from the rice to the tea. To this day, the fragrance and the taste of umeboshi is one of my favorite Japanese delights. My children often give me the powder of umeboshi for the occasional birthdays or when I run out. It has become a staple condiment in our kitchen.
During our time in Japan, David and I went to visit a dear friend Ted and his wife. He used to be a roadie for Brian Ferry who we met through Rick Wills, (Brian's bass guitarist). Rick and Linnie were some of our closest friends. Originally, Rick was in David's first band, Jokers Wild in Cambridge. Ted also toured with Paul McCartney and while on tour, he met a lovely Japanese woman. They fell in love and married, and then moved to Japan to live with her family. He needed a new profession to earn a living so he became a builder at first. I believe, if my memory serves me right, his father-in-law hired him. This allowed him to stay in one place at home in Japan and eventually build their marital home.
He went on to study the art of making ceramics and over time, his career as a potter started to flourish. He built his own kiln in the backyard so he could be close to his creations. As a potter in the traditional Japanese fir
ing technique-Raku, he is a legend. A tall westerner in a foreign land submerged into a new culture for the sake of Love. Their story is so inspiring and familiar.
Ted invited us to stay over for the night with them. As we had a day off, we accepted. When we arrived, they offered cfor us to take a bath. This apparently is a normal custom when visiting people at home in Japan. They had a similar sit up bath as the hotel with bamboo pots to throw water over us. It was warm and ready for for us when we got there. The surplus water ran over the bath onto the floor and out a hole in the wall as we took turns to bath. This ceremony meant we were relaxed and ready to honor our meal. In the middle of the room, our dinner cooked over an open fire. Large stones were warming beside the edge, which were later placed under our covers to keep our feet warm while we slept. The next gig was in Sapporo and we had to take one of their high-speed trains. It was early morning rush hour. The platform was crowded and as we were boarding the Japanese men, in a rush, shoved me and the other woman aside. In their culture, the men had precedence over woman. In fact, I doubt if they even saw us. The trains were very modern and very comfortable. Several times along our journey, it was their custom to offer warm face towels to all passengers. Not just at home and in the restaurants, but even on the trains! I did miss this ritual of washing hands and bathing ceremonies when we got home. The taking-off of shoes when entering private or sacred environments was part of respecting and honoring Life, intrinsic to their culture. Today the taking-off of shoes is part of my life at home. I love walking quietly from room to room.
Memoirs of the Brightside of the Moon Page 4