If you think of Willie Nelson as a lot of people do, you might make the same mistake I did on the way up the stairs of his tour bus, Honeysuckle Rose. I imagined we were going to visit a mythical creature or an immortal shaman; in reality, it was better than that. We were greeted by a warm 85-year-old who had just woken from a pre-show nap and was drinking a cup of coffee at his version of a kitchen table - a narrow booth in the front of the bus, with photos of friends and family, including his great-grandchildren, hanging on the wall behind him.

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