One of the first things many people notice about me is that I'm not at all proud of my Geordie origins. The region itself is lovely, but I honestly can't contain my contempt for the people within it - the delusional boneheaded majority who're quite rightly the butt of the nation's unsavoury jokes. Oh, what I'd give to be Scottish. Things are just better north of the border. People are friendlier. They drink better, swear better, have better accents, grow better beards, and perhaps most importantly they're treated to what I personally consider the finest music scene this flawed, divided island has to offer. It was with little hesitation, then, that I travelled up to Perth to be right in the midst of it, immersing myself in the esteemed company of RM Hubbert, Bill Wells and the one and only Aidan Moffat on a night which proved more than worth the travel expense.
