Burgess Hill Martlet Hall Saturday April 21st

When you’ve done a belter like Aldershot, there’s always the danger of it being a case of “ after the Lord Mayor’s show” for the next gig. To be honest, the signs for Burgess Hill aren’t great….in fact quite literally, as we can’t even find the bloody place at first despite the best intentions of our two Dorises and Big John’s Why Aye-pad. We finally rock up just a few minutes late, and it’s a nice surprise. Although there are no moving bars for the moving lights and projectors, which means Rodders will again have to do his Amazing Spiderman act up a ladder, it’s a lovely little theatre. Advance sales had been pretty dire, but the way the seats are set out means even a half-decent crowd will look good in here. As it turns out, when I check with the box office, sales have almost doubled from what they were when we last asked, so that’s a bonus for starters. The build takes longer than usual as we have to mount two of the projectors on stands rather than fly them on a bar, and that always has a high fannying-about quotient. The stage is also a little cosy, but we’ve played smaller without any problems. In short, it’s all good. It even has the benefit of a Waitrose almost next door, and, feeling the need for some healthy nosh, I go in and stock up on mung bean and badger bile extract curd. Yum. (Note…this may be slightly inaccurate. But I DID get a Snickers bar, and that’s got nuts in it, which are healthy,
right ? OK, I know, I know…so has squirrel shit, and that’s not good for you either…). Despite the pernickitiness of the build, we’re only about twenty minutes later than normal getting set up, which is another testament to the teamwork we’ve got on this crew. The band do their bit, too, cracking on through the soundcheck at a speed which enables Nick to do a fish and chips run, and allows us to eat it without risking chronic indigestion. Normally when we’re ahead of schedule we chill out on the bus for a bit, but the venue haven’t been able to give us power for it for some reason, so the Bogey is dark and chilly. It’d also a late show tonight, so this DOES create a bit of a lull in the proceedings, which Den and I try to fill by changing some of the slides around for the projections. There was a time, Faithful Blogreader, when any computer that came within several yards of me would inexplicably stop working, or lose it’s memory, or melt, and I began to wonder if I was like Magneto from X Men, with an invisible forcefield that threw machinery into disarray. Turns out I’m just crap with computers, but thanks to the wise tuition of Professor Tompkins, I’m now a bit of a whiz.. Apart from being able to handle Powerpoint as well as any normal seven year old, I’m fully computer literate, and my skill set is vast…sending e-mails, reading e-mails, deleting e-mails…I could go on. It’s also a big football day today….the Mighty Magpies of Newcastle United spank Stoke City 3-0 and move up to the nosebleed-inducing heights of fourth in the Premiership, at least until Spurs play their game later today. When the news filters through that Spurs have lost one nil, Big John and I offer profound thanks to Spurs for rolling over today against the ten men of lowly QPR ( sorry, Sue ! ), as well as pinching ourselves to make sure we’re not dreaming. Arthur, being a Spurs fan, is fairly disgruntled, but then I’ve never seen him actually gruntled, so I can’t really tell the difference. Showtime comes around, and we’re not really sure what to expect from this crowd. Den’s got a couple of friends in and Jamie’s wife, the lovely Michelle, is here too, bringing one of their daughters to see Daddy in action onstage for the first time, but otherwise we think this is pretty much virgin territory, so there’s a smidgeon of trepidation, but as ever, we needn’t have worried. They’re a noisy and enthusiastic bunch tonight, and right in the front row at stage left in front of Jamie is a row of people who, we later discover, are fans from Worthing, and apart from the usual applause and whistling, they display a fantastic routine of formation dancing…whilst still in their seats. I wonder for a moment how they rehearsed it….” Yeah, come over to mine about eight….bring a bottle and I’ll get a pizza in. And don‘t forget to bring all your chairs….” but they’re clearly having a ball, and it doesn’t take long before they’re on their feet and bopping around. The band aren’t quite at full throttle in the first half, but they’ve got this show totally nailed, and what we sometimes have to remind ourselves is that even if we don’t think a show has been especially good by our own high standards, to people seeing it for the first time it’s fantastic, and what’s especially pleasing on this tour is the amount of people who HAVE seen it before telling us that they think this is the best we’ve done yet. It’s harder for us to be objective as we see it every night, but it’s been such a constant comment that we must be doing SOMETHING right. The rockier songs seem to be the winners tonight, but Jamie’s Handbags And Gladrags gets a special cheer ( and it wasn’t just Michelle ! ). The triple whammy of Pinball Wizard ( with fully operating pyros ! ), Blackberry Way and Green Onions has already got most of the house on their feet even before the final medley, and by the end of THAT, this gig has changed from a “ singlaong encore “ to a
“ rocking out encore” , and Spirit makes it’s second appearance in two days. If anything this one’s even meatier, and the place is heaving at the end. Job done !! There’s a moment of farce as we prepare to leave; the massive steel automatic barrier opens to let Arthur out…then closes again and steadfastly refuses to have anything to do with either the bus or Nick’s van. As we know the whole place is shut tomorrow, being a Sunday, we have visions of having to take an oxy-acetylene torch to the damn thing so we can get out and get to Christchurch, but luckily the obligatory “ little man” who works these kind of things turns up with some kind of key fob malarkey, and we are released. Arthur’s feeling rough so our little convoy hits the first services and he stocks up on jollop and pills, then he swaps with me and I “race” Nick to Christchurch. I say “ race” but it’s more a case of me tearing past him when I’m going downhill, and him laughingly passing me as I wheeze up the hills, but it helps to pass the journey. We roll into the car park at The Regent Centre at a respectable 3.15am, and as we’ve escorted John here through the labyrinthine back streets of the town, we can jump straight aboard. The only downer is that the bus has to be parked sideways on a hill, so she’s far from level. This seems OK until I actually get into my bunk and start rolling downhill due to the camber. I manage to rig up a protective wall of pillows and clothes, but when I wake up at five to have the first of my “ old man’s bladder” trips to the loo, I find my face is mashed against the side of the bus again, and that’s SO not a good look. In fact, when I get up, the camber seems much steeper, somehow, and I make it to the loo only by bouncing off various bunks, musicians and assorted hard or pointy surfaces on the way. For a minute I toy with the idea of totally bottling out of the return journey, but the old lids are drooping again, and I can hear the siren call of my bunk. I’ll be fine. I can DO this. Taking a deep breath, I release my hold on the galley door to stagger bed-wards…..and promptly plant an elbow right in Phil’s head..Oops….!