Newark Palace Theatre Wednesday April 18th

Paul McCartney may well wake up to the sound of music, with Mother Mary talking to him, but I wake up to the sound of the Lincolnshire rain hammering on the roof of the bus, so I Let It Be and go back to sleep. This is most unlike me…normally I wake quite early and then I’m up and at ‘em…but today I just can’t drag myself out of my bunk. I mean, we DID arrive quite late this morning…about threeish…but that’s no biggie for us on this tour. I think it’s the cumulative effects of the long days and nights and the stress of trying to keep all the financial plates spinning, plus, I’m sorry to have to admit, it’s the simple passage of time. I’m nearly 55 now ( June 7th, folks… all donations / presents / cakes / loose women / spare tickets for Newcastle United games / bundles of tenners gratefully accepted ) and at least once every day my mind writes a cheque that my body can’t cash. In fact, not only does it not cash it, but it sets off the panic button, brings down the security shutters and sends in the armed response team. I can still chuck the gear about almost as well as I used to when the occasion demands, and I reckon my basic strength’s still OK, but almost every joint is starting to feel as though it’s full of gravel, and my knees long ago decided that they didn’t want to play anymore and took their ball home. It’s got to the point where I’m almost as useless as a Dalek when it comes to stairs,
and as if they know this, it seems as though all the theatres we’re playing are on about nine levels, with the two things I need to access most being on levels one and nine. So come on, boffins of the world….invent a bloody anti-gravity belt or else a fat lad – sized indoor jet pack or something. I’m struggling here !!!! When I finally roll out of my scratcher it’s half ten in the morning and so I immediately go into “ I’ve wasted time !” mode. Luckily Rodders is on hand, as he so often is, to remind me that I’m being a big jessie and that there’s nothing wrong with sleeping when you’re tired. Big John’s Wetherspoons – Seeker app has obviously been in full effect, as our very own Breakfast Club of John, Rodders, Nick and Tomps have all been out and troughed down by the time I get up. It appears that on this tour it’s Pug who has drawn the Magic Bunk in the allocation lottery, for he’s still peacefully sleeping despite the cacophony of talking, laughing and farting that’s going on just inches away from him. Mind you, judging by the noxious emissions that Nick’s producing this morning, maybe there’s another reason he’s not conscious….Come one o’clock and the rain’s still not eased, so we just have to grit our teeth and get on with it. Luckily the get-in is not too bad, and everything gets chucked in quickly. Once inside it’s clear this is the perfect kind of theatre for us. Good size, nice big stage with plenty of wing and dock space, decent dressing rooms with showers and a management that really want to help. So perfect is it, in fact, that we’re actually finished and set up ready for the band at 2.45pm, the fastest we’ve ever done it. Told you this was a bloody good crew…..Nick and I take advantage of the early finish to scoot off to a local ATS and pick up a new tyre for his van, the Black Pearl, and I’m feeling so chilled out that I only cry a thimbleful of tears when they give me the bill for
£ 108. Back at the venue it’s oddly deserted….the band have been in and showered, so they’re either on the bus or mooching around Newark ( VERY pretty place, by the way…well worth a visit. Only make sure you do it next time we’re playing there and bring everyone you’ve ever met in your life with you….). We’re so on top of this show now that in all honesty, once we’re set up there’s no real need for anyone to be here until the boys come back for soundcheck, and giving the crew this extra bit of downtime has been a real morale booster. They’re all totally professional, responsible lads, and don’t need me on their backs every five minutes to make sure the job gets done and done well, so it means everyone’s more relaxed and there’s a great atmosphere. I make use of the quiet time by grabbing a quick shower, and then it’s accounts a-go go. Oh, the joy….Tonight is one of those shows where there are some acoustic oddities. As the stage is quite deep, Tomps and I are quite a long way back from the crowd, so even without our comms headsets on, the applause seems a bit muted. Going by the expressions on the band’s faces, though, this isn’t the case at all, and from the stage itself the applause is long, loud and warm, and the band slide into one of the most effortlessly masterful performances I’ve ever seen them do. It’s got power, but it’s controlled power, less hell-for-leather, more….. hell-for-suede. It’s relaxed but focused at the same time and is an absolute joy to watch. The lads have also FINALLY decided to start the “ Sixties Party” thing right at the beginning of the last medley rather than wait for Mony Mony at the end, and it works a treat…this way from now on, please !!! To our surprise ( and delight, of course ) Den calls Spirit In The Sky as the encore. I’m slightly miffed, as tonight I’m going out to the merch table again before the end of the show and I bloody LOVE the way they play this song, but as I head to front of house I suddenly realise I’m getting an opportunity I’ve actually never had before….to see even part of this show from the audience’s perspective ! I slip through a side door…and it’s mayhem. I’m nearly beaned by the meaty fist of a bloke who is punching the air, and everywhere it’s clapping, dancing, singing people. The band look and sound amazing, and I finally see what it is we pay Mr Rodwell for when he does the lights !! ( Nice one as ever,
Rodders …! ). Weirdly I feel as though somehow I’m trespassing into a forbidden area…..that’s what happens when you’ve been stuck in the stage right wings with a set of headphones on for the past three years….but it’s a fantastic glimpse behind the curtain at what the audience see when they come to this show. I begin to wonder if I can buy a ticket for the next show in Aldershot….As this is our first time here, there are plenty of people who want to meet the band afterwards, and the feedback both we and Sean, the venue manager, are getting is superb. This is definitely on our “ come back asap “ list.. Lovely gig, lovely people. The loadout is quick, too, which means we can set off for Aldershot sooner than planned. Steve’s taking the Black Pearl home again tonight to do another day’s admin catch-up on The Overtures diary, and John’s dropping the rest of the lads off at home. It’s Jamie’s birthday tomorrow and the last thing he wants is to be in Aldershot with a load of old lags like us. Den’s just going back to recharge the batteries a bit and Chris is sorting out his car as he’s going to be self-driving the gigs from here on in, but Phil’s stuck with the bus….THAT’LL teach him to go living in Gothenburg !! Rodders and I drop Junior off in the Grand Duchy of Furzeton, Milton Keynes, then head to Toddington services south and the 24 hour Burger King. Or not….the 24 hour one is only on the bloody northbound M1 ! WHAT MADNESS IS THIS ?! We briefly consider driving to Luton just to turn around and come back north, but finally agree this is just a little bit mental, so after making do with a ( surprisingly fine) all-day brunch, we swap drivers and set off on the final leg to Aldershot. It is at this point, Faithful Blogreader, that I must make a confession that is neither big nor clever. I was already quite tired before I took the wheel, and it’s not long before I’m drooping. The fact that the van’s heater is now permanently stuck on it’s “surface of the sun” setting doesn’t help, either. Rodders has already done his stint, and the poor lad’s already nodding off, so I’ve got to stick with it. I think I’m doing OK until I see a blue junction sign come up on the M3. As our friend and colleague Tracy Jacobs lives along this drag, I know that her junction is the first one we come to. As I get up to the sign, though, I get a real jolt to see that it’s actually the one after hers, and it’s the one I need to take for Aldershot. This REALLY gets the adrenaline going…somehow I’ve driven along a stretch of the M3 with absolutely no recollection of having done so. Clearly I was in control of the van, and knew where I was going, but I’m proper scared by this fatigue-induced amnesia. This must not happen again. It doesn’t take long to get to the Princes Hall, and luckily John rolls up within five minutes, so we get aboard and head for bed. It still takes me a while to drop off, though…..I realise that for all the fun and games and jokes and japery that go on here on the road, all it takes is one second of tiredness or an error of judgement and everything could change for ever. I know it’s not my usual style to close a post on such a sombre note, but this was a wake-up call to me and I’m passing it on to you. It’s better to get somewhere half an hour late in this world than twenty years early in the next. If you’re driving at night and you’re tired, don’t be a sap…take a nap.