Bridlington Spa Hall Sat March 6th

Yet another out – of – season coastal town today, this one with added road closures and biting winds which blast straight from the Siberian steppes and whistle round your gusset. If it’s Saturday it must be Bridlington, and I must admit that even on this bitingly cold March day the wide strand of golden beach looks beautiful under a clear azure sky. Even the gently breaking waves of the North Sea look inviting, the sun sparkling off them as they ripple across the sand, and for about a nanosecond a primal, instinctive return to childhood and the urge to paddle in the shallows almost galvanizes my legs into action. Fortunately my adult brain kicks in and so I narrowly avoid losing my feet to the freezing ocean. The Spa Hall has had a major spruce – up since the last time I was here way back in the early 80’s, and it’s looking VERY posh these days. Tonight’s show is going to be a bit of a weird one; the main hall actually seats about 1,800 to 2,000 people in it’s normal theatre configuration, and that’s WAY too big for us, but what they do to make the place more intimate is set it out in what’s known as cabaret style, with loads of tables for six ranged around a dancefloor in front of the stage. It looks like an odd cross between the theatre shows we’ve been doing, a regular Overtures “ party “ gig and a bingo night, but the pre-sales figures are quite impressive and thus validate the whole exercise. We don’t really know what to expect, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing….sometimes a little unpredictability can be quite exciting. What is DEFINITELY exciting is the prospect of freshly – cooked fish and chips ( always a bonus at a seaside gig ), and I have to say it doesn’t disappoint…they fry it differently up here, in things like beef dripping, and although it’s not exactly Tesco’s “ Healthy Options “ range it tastes absolutely fantastic, giving you that lovely thick coating of lard on the roof of your mouth….unbeatable ! We draw the line at sticks of rock, though….got to make SOME kind of concession to dietary restraint. For all that the venue is a big old gaff, the stage is actually quite small, and the wing space is almost non-existent, so Tomps and I end up rammed against the wall and sitting on a trapdoor cover. As neither of us are exactly lightweights, there’s a certain degree of trepidation as we lower ourselves into position; there’s a six – foot drop right under us and we can actually feel the boards bending. Tomps is also completely cut off from the stage AGAIN by side drapes, and all I can see is a small triangle of Steve’s drumkit and a tiny bit of one screen. Not really what you need when you’re supposed to be doing all the projection stuff and firing the pyrotechnics….we’re going to have to rely totally on the lads at front of house telling us if it’s safe or not. Ah well, adopt, adapt and improve……As the crowd start come in it’s clear that this is going to be VERY different to anything else we’ve come across on the tour yet…..as far as these folks are concerned they’re just out for a Saturday night party, and, rather brilliantly, loads of them have come in 60’s kit, but we don’t really think they’re going to be ready for some of the longer bits of dialogue that we’ve been doing on the tour, so it’s decided to keep the set exactly as it is but to bin some of the chat and jokes. There’s a bit of a disagreement within the ranks about this at first, but good sense prevails and the new streamlined version is what we go with. As it happens, it’s a perfect call…..we have people up and dancing almost from the first number, so keeping everything tighter and snappier helps the set move along at a cracking rate. We’re actually surprised how well the slower numbers are received, but as we get towards the end of the set and the “ Power Portion “ songs, the floor’s completely full. Under normal circumstances the band would play on until these folks are just greasy spots on the dancefloor, but we stick to the normal set tonight and leave them after just the encore. It’s been an odd, really good show, with only one potential bowel – loosening moment, when Jamie hadn’t stepped back from the pyro firing pot lying almost at his feet. To have hit the “ fire “ button at that point would have been to deliver a charge of hot sparkly stuff right up his bugle, so I back off, but just at the right moment he skips backwards and I have just enough room to fire. As such he only suffers first degree burns and mild hairloss, which is fair enough, really. We shouldn’t be surprised by now at the alacrity with which venue managers come bounding up to us after a show wanting to re-book, but the chap here is almost hopping from foot to foot in excitement. We sniff haughtily and tell him our people will speak to his people ( it’s not the done thing to appear too keen ! ) before heading off back to our hotel in North Ferriby. I’d be most remiss if I didn’t at least give a mention to this bastion of 70’s tastelessness and inefficiency, by the way. The brown, beige and cream décor, the showers that produce a spray so fine you have to run around the bath to get wet ( and that’s assuming you can get them to go hot in the first place ) and the friendly and helpful staff….all three of them, to cover reception, bar, kitchen and, for all we know, cleaning duties as well….it’s hard to know where to start eulogising. Apparently it’s going under new management tomorrow, but under a bulldozer would probably be more appropriate. When we checked in we were told their “ systems were running slow “ , and they weren’t joking…they were SO glacial in tempo I half – expected to see the receptionist using an abacus and quill pen, but eventually we got our room keys ( hewn from finest flint and daubed with interesting paintings of buffalo and woolly mammoths ). We were told the rooms were a
little “ tired “; well, ours was so knackered it must have just run the London Marathon, but it’s a place to lay a weary head, and that’s all that matters…plus it’s cheap. We wish them good luck with the re-fit and re-brand, though we couldn’t help but think that “ Maison Smeggy “ was an ill-advised choice of new name…..