Fish that Smoke

We’re off to Brixton and we’re running late, Craig and Ben bag the front seat for queasy reasons. Geoff has already taken the gear in Spooner’s van and is probably on his first pint by the time we set off. Spooner is working for The Feeling and yes I still have his mics which I’ll be returning soon. It’s Friday afternoon and the usual traffic nonsense is very much in evidence. Bonehead’s at the wheel of a new mini bus, a spacious little number and comfy too. I occupy the back seat and think how I used to covert the old back seat position on school trips when the back seat was the place to be. I also start to fantasise about Jackie Whitehurst’s mini skirt but you don’t really want to know that. Best move on in every sense. The journey is arduous. We make our way slowly across town, everywhere looks the same, there’s no proper ring road and the streets are too narrow. The houses are massive and there are always too many people about. In short London makes me paranoid. I’ve never liked it much. Too big for it’s own bearings. I got lost as a kid when on a Natural History Museum trip and ended up keeping the coach party waiting, the teacher, a regular tyrant known as Old Stone Face gave me the slipper in front of the class. I was ashamed embarrassed and humiliated; perhaps this has shaped my perspective. We arrive at 7.30pm and loaf around JAMM where we have an all night liquid rider, bar vouches and a few nibbles. There are cream crackers under the dressing room settee but nobody notices; it’s just me still pondering on the Alan Bennet Talking heads DVD I watched again after not seeing it in years and regularly talking about it with my daughter [who did it for A Level]. I was once again moved and charmed and sweetened by the masterful monologues, as was Lynne our American houseguest. At the venue Geoff has loaded in and the supports are sound checking. The apparent confusion from the sound engineer’s perspective is just front…he really knows what he’s doing despite the stage being overcrowded with amps and pedals and all kinds of rock n roll debris. We miss all the supports as we’re late checking into the hotel which is a 45 minute cab trip away. When we finally get on around 11.30 everything sounds great. Feedback is good [from the audience as opposed to the amps] and everyone settles into Mike and Boneheads DJ extravaganza. Top Night is I think the technical term for what follows. Back at the hotel Karen, Craig and I discuss the merits of hygiene and make lists of bands with animal names before retiring at 5am like proper rock n roll people. Bonehead calls me from the hotel bar at 10 am the next day; Mike is somewhere in Brixton with the fee, we need the fee to pay the hotel. Five hours later we eventually get out of London. What happens in-between you may well wonder but if I told you you’d never believe me. I get home for match of day positively knackered in a good way. VP