Weymouth Pavilion Wed March 30th

An early start for everyone today as we have to meet the bus and drive down to Weymouth, which is a long old poke. It’s good to see Big John again after what seems like ages, and all the pick-ups go to plan and are on time. The traffic’s light, the roads are clear, and John only has to do a 30 minute tachograph break, so we’re all puzzled when we realise we’re still sixty miles away from the venue at the time we should be loading in ! Once you’re off the M27 the roads DO get narrower and much, much slower, but this is weird…there’s no way we should be this far behind schedule. Arthur and Nick, having driven down in the vans, are already there, and a little disgruntled when they hear our news. There’s not much we can do about it, though….John’s going as quick as he can, so all the four of us can do is look disconsolately out of the bus windows at the rain as we wind our way through the Dorset countryside. The guys will use the local crew to help them load in, so at least the kit will be in the building when we get there, but it’s not a nice sensation to be stuck here with time slipping by, and we’re all twitching. We finally hit Weymouth, and it becomes clear that they’re trying to move it somewhere further down the coast, as every road seems to be dug up. We crawl with agonising slowness through this poo until we finally pull up at the venue just before 3pm, nearly two hours late. As we’d hoped, Arthur and Nick have got everything inside, and the team swings into action. It’s a testimony to how well we’ve got things nailed now that we’re up and ready for soundcheck at the normal time, and apart from a couple of glitsches and malfunctioning cables, we’ve even got time for a fish and chip session. Now, I may dash the latter statement off in a matter of seconds, but you need to be aware that the procurement of said piscine comestibles involved a trek of transcontinental proportions for me and Tomps. Wednesday evening is clearly early closing day for all the chip shops in Weymouth, and by the time we’ve covered what seems like ten fruitless miles I realise that I can’t go on any further. I collapse in a snowdrift at the side of the road, and Tomps struggles back to see what the problem is. “ I’m done for “ I tell him. “Leave me here, you go on…I’m only holding you up “ . He’s a real hero though, is our Tomps, and he hoists me over his shoulder as though I were as light as a feather, instead of actually nineteen and a half stone. Eventually the lights of The Marlborough Fish & Chip Emporium glimmer through the mist…we’ve made it, and after a restorative double cod and chips with mushy peas and a can of Vimto I’m fit enough to return to the theatre. It was a close run thing, though, let me tell you…..SO…on to the show. The Pavilion is one of those venues that never seem to do desperately well, but as soon as the council or anyone makes any noise about closing it down, then the local population are up in arms and the petitions start to fly until the action is stopped dead in it’s tracks…but then the petitioners don’t bother to come to any of the shows, and the whole process starts again ! A shame, because a full house in here would be brilliant. Even so, we’ve nearly tripled the audience from the last time we played….and just as with last time, things start slowly, with polite rather than rapturous applause and the jokes getting titters rather than laughs. In short, it looks and feels like hard work, but the boys doggedly stick to their guns and you can actually feel the audience starting to thaw. Strangely enough it’s Do You Wanna Dance in the acoustic medley that seems to do the trick tonight ( obviously a Cliff stronghold, then ) and the second half is much more of a done deal, though from where I’m sitting onstage things still sound quite muted, and I’m expecting only a handful of folks to be dancing in the “ party “ section. I’m genuinely surprised, then, to hear Arthur saying “ they’re really going for it “ on the comms. I peer round the curtain and not only is everyone on their feet, but loads of them are right up against the front of the stage too. Safe, staid Weymouth has become Rock City Central for the night, and another town is crushed beneath the mighty boot of the all – conquering Bootleg Sixties show. Or something. Tonight’s Shadows moment has the best response yet, as Nick, Tomps and myself, all fairly well equipped in the midriff department, lift out shirts, grab our bellies and treat Phil to a full – on “ truffle shuffle “ which elicits a big grin from our guitarist. Ten out of ten to him for not just hurling at the sight of three overweight men jiggling their considerable ballast at him. Fortunately we were out of the audience’s sight, otherwise we’d no doubt have been arrested for contravening some kind of health and safety rule.As we’re going to be staying here tonight and driving on to Exmouth in the morning, and as Den’s got some friends in town, almost everyone heads out into town after the show, but Arthur and I decide against it, and I must admit to crashing out at a very girly early hour. I thus miss the drama when Arthur realises that as the house crew left the Pavilion they must have switched the power off, including the power to the bus, which means that the batteries are rapidly draining and if something isn’t done about it PDQ we’re not going to be able to leave in the morning. John had taken a swift trip to town but Arthur reaches him and he gets back just in time He manages to get the bus started, but has to run the engine all night which makes for an uncomfortable ( and
costly ! ) few hours. The band, needless to say, have hooked up with Den’s friends and some local musicians and have, it’s fair to say, imbibed well of grape and grain, so when they finally crash back in at some ungodly hour they’re oblivious to all that’s gone on, and proceed to talk to each other very loudly for ages in the classic style of the terminally pissed. What with this, the engine, and a classic case of Old Geezer’s Bladder, the night passes slowly and fitfully, so it’s a very gritty-eyed and haggard Tony who finally falls asleep about half an hour before he’s due to get up……