Good morning campers!
I’m your Uncle Ernie and I welcome you to… oh never mind.
[Editor’s note: We have a shiny new show reel video, yer tis …]
Good grief, that was knackering. After a relatively quiet gig on Friday at the Trident, Saturday’s outing to the ‘Cullis in Fishponds was enlivened by the new landlady there, Helen – who turned out to be as mad as a box of frogs, as mad as seven badgers in a handbag, as mad as a Walnut Whip on a rollercoaster – and actually has at least as many silly toys as we do. So, during the course of the set we were treated to “the pom-poms”, “the loudhailer”, “the corset”, “the hat”, “the vuvuzela”, and, of course, “the Miss Piggy wig” – which was immediately plonked onto Stuart, who rather to my terror, looked completely at home in it.
We also stopped on for a bit afterwards to chat to our lovely pals Gus & Sue; thus it was the wrong side of 1am when Ben and I got back to my gaffe and opened the Jack Daniels…
“…Bleep, bleep, bleep…”
Oh look, it’s 6:00 on a Sunday morning, and time to get up and go drive to an airfield to play rock’n’roll in front of ten thousand bikers.
Sometimes I do wonder what it is that normal people do to pass the time…
Anyways, after a stiff couple of coffees, Ben and I decant ourselves in to the van and set off for Hullavington. We arrive, we starting lumping the kit up onto the inevitable flatbed trailer stage, when my phone rings. It’s Lou, telling me that Stooie has overslept and so they’ll be a little later than intended. Not to worry, it’s a lovely day and everybody is in a jolly mood, and once we’re all set up we have a fine time making a nice jolly loud racket. And we get to catch up with some old mates, and see thousand and thousands and thousands of bikes go rumbling off together. Awesome stuff.
We take a break whilst the second batch of bikers assemble, and Ben kindly buys me a nice egg and bacon roll. Within seconds, I am covered head to foot in sticky yellow egg, and so if you happen to see any photos from the day, and notice I appear to be covered in a strange sticky fluid – THAT’s what it is. Don’t believe the others.
The morning grows older, and so do we along with it – at one point I check my watch and am shocked to see that although we have played through three sets already, it’s still not eleven o’clock yet. Finally, though, the final huge batch of bikes is assembled and we stumble through a few last tunes to send them on their way. On reflection, I’m not sure that “Another One Bites The Dust” was an entirely appropriate choice to finish on…
Time to pack up, so we and the sound guys cheerfully assist each other in moving each other’s heavy kit around, getting in each other’s way and tripping over cables, until at last the stage is cleared. At this point, our pal John appears chewing a large greasy burger. “If you go up to that last stall” he mumbles through his food, “They’re giving away whatever they’ve got left over, just go and ask for what you like”.
There is a small thunderclap as air rushes in to fill the space where Ben just was.
To be fair, though, I got there just nanoseconds after he did.
Thus, with full little tummies, your heroes wended their weary way homewards, dripping with grease, covered in egg, and feeling rather pleased with themselves.
[Editor’s note: check out Alan’s new spangly white guitar]
We’ll have to wait a while year before we get to do that again – meanwhile, and a little closer to home: –
Friday 22nd – Crown & Horseshoe, Mangotsfield
Field, yes, mangoes no. Please see the November 2004 edition of this blog for humorous details of that rant.
Saturday 23rd – Woodlands Edge, Peatmoor, Swindon
Not been here for a while, this is the place where Lou played her very first ever gig with us. I wonder if they’ve gotten around to putting up some kind of a small plaque or something yet…?
Right, that’s your lot for now, I need some sleep.
And, incidentally, a motorcycle.
I wonder if Dem is still in a present-buying mood…?