South Shields Customs House Thursday April 5th

After the heroics of yesterday, having a normal day and running to normal times seems almost mundane, so to give myself some excitement I decide to drive one of the vans to South Shields. This particular vehicle ( she of the non-working heater ) has a somewhat complicated and unique relationship with facets of driving that are generally regarded as being fairly standard, such as starting, stopping and all the bits in between, and to do a decent – length drive in her would probably be best described as “ challenging “. Because she hates hills so much, you have to anticipate the road ahead with an intensity probably unparalleled outside of a Formula One racing car. If you spot anything ahead that’s steeper than, say, your doorstep, you have to immediately start building speed to give yourself the maximum run-up, otherwise you find yourself wheezing up the M6 or whatever in third gear at 35 mph, and that’s SO not a good look. You’re also constantly monitoring surrounding traffic all the time, as all it needs is for one bloat-bellied trucker or flat-capped Sunday driver to meander out in front of you as you’re trying to achieve escape velocity, and you’re knackered. When the van’s on the gallop, all other traffic has to be either overtaken or intimidated back into its’ original lane. It makes for a somewhat fraught, but never dull, drive. In fact, the most unpleasant thing about the trip north today is when we go through The Dark Place ( fellow Newcastle United supporters will know instantly that I’m talking about Su******nd ). As soon as we come close to that accursed realm, the mobile service disappears, the bright spring morning gives way to black, roiling clouds and occasional flashes of thunder, and the weeping and wailing of the poor souls doomed to dwell there, clad in their tattered red and white striped shirts, can even be heard above the clamour of the van’s engine as she strains every piston to be rid of this blighted place and reach the haven of God’s Own Country just a few leagues north.. Strictly speaking, South Shields is in the badlands south of the Tyne as opposed to Newcastle itself, but it’s still the land of the Geordie as opposed to the Mackem, the black and white as opposed to the red and white, the Magpies supporter as opposed to the terminal deluded individuals who frequent the Stadium Of Plight.. It’s a beautiful day as we roll up on the banks of the Tyne to today’s venue, the Customs House. This cool old place used to be the Customs House ( see what they did there…? ) and it’s a great little gig. I’m especially please tonight as my Auntie Joan and her husband are coming up from Darlington to see the show. I haven’t seen her in years and I think they’ll love it….she’s in her seventies but she and Don, her husband, go to any performance of the Rocky Horror Show that’s nearby, dressed in the full kit. They’re anything but shrinking violets, so tonight should be right up their street. This is also Arthur’s last show before he leaves us for ten days or so to do a European tour with another act, so there’s a lot of note – swapping going on as Arthur hands over to Pug on front of house and Pug hands over to Junior on monitors. It’s great to have Junior back on board….feels like we’re still on last year’s tour, and the banter kicks off immediately. It IS like another family, and I realise as I’m putting my bits and pieces together and listening to the others trading jokes and insults that this is one of the best crews I’ve ever worked with. It’s not just that they can pull something out of the hat like yesterday, it’s because they’re constantly good at what they do, and everyone supports everyone else. I’ve been going though a bit of tough old time on a personal level and three of the guys have already taken me aside and said “ if you need to talk you know where I am”. They don’t NEED to do this, they do it because they’re friends and because they’re family. There’s no rock’n’roll attitude, no
“ I’m far too experienced and important to do THAT”, no ego, no one-upmanship…just six people doing a job well and having a laugh at the same time.
Add in the fact that we all get on so well with the band, and by and large you’ve got a pretty happy troupe of travellers. We also have a pretty happy group of audience members tonight, though sadly not as many as we’d hoped for. We hear from the theatre staff that they’ve been stuck in a rut of shows not selling especially well over the past three months, and once again we have to remind ourselves that the country is still in the grip of recession. Fuel is stupidly expensive, tickets aren’t cheap, and jobs are scarce, especially up here, so the fact that we’re still getting a decent crowd of dedicated fans is a major bonus that will stand us in good stead when times DO improve. There’s one particular guy in tonight, though, who doesn’t seem to give a monkey’s about what’s going on outside…he’s having a total ball in a world of his own. Every time Den announces a song he lets rip with a loud “ YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH ! “. At the end of every song….same deal. As Den’s doing his introductions….yep, you guessed it…” YEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH! “ WE HAD thought that perhaps he was a little….shall we say…. cerebrally challenged, but when he spoke to the boys afterwards it became clear that this was just a bloke who loved great music played brilliantly and presented to West – End standards, so he was in EXACTLY the right place ! To my immense pleasure Auntie Joan and Don and the pair of friends they brought with them loved it to, and Joan was immediately on at me to give her the winter datesheet as we’re scheduled to be playing in Stockton, even nearer to her home than tonight’s gig. She tells me that she’ll arrange a trip from the golf club she’s member of, at which point I muster an uneasy smile….one of the last times I saw her was at a golf club “ do” and I have to say the Bacchanalian antics of some of the fellow attendees would have put Caligula’s Rome to shame…but it’s a lovely thought. Only slightly odd note for us tonight was the return of
“ You’ll Never Walk Alone “ as the encore, making it the fifth different one used on the tour so far. We haven’t got the “ follow the bouncing ball “ lyrics on the screen this time ( largely as we weren’t expecting to even hear the damn thing again ) so we just run with the Bootleg Sixties logo on the three screens. This allows me the luxury of shutting down and packing up my show computer while the band are still onstage, but that’s OK….anything that gives us a head start for the load out is a bonus. We have to admit that it’s not the crew’s favourite choice….after the carpet-bombing of the final medley and the singalong lovefest of Daydream Believer, it seems like too much of a downer, though the audience apparently disagree as they bellow along with gusto ( always thought that word sounded like some kind of washing liquid. “ Hard – to – shift stains ? Get them out with Gusto ! “ ). For us, the roof – lifting version of Spirit In The Sky is king, with All Shook Up a close second…but then we’re just rock pigs who like loud noise ! We’re in Market Drayton tomorrow, which is almost a second home to us now, and after a brief conflab decide that the two vans will each take an extra crew member riding shotgun, and drive the two hundred – plus miles to Shropshire straight after the show rather than get an hour down the road, go into a hotel and do the rest of the journey in the morning. The bus will be going overnight anyway, and we’ll arrive at about the same time, so we can just jump in our bunks and sleep late. Arthur’s off in his wee hired car as well, but in his case he’s heading to East Midlands airport to fly out to France tomorrow morning. We climb into the vans ready for the nocturnal schlep south – west, and just before we set off I leave the lads with this thought from Confucius, that wise old seer. Confucius said “ Honourable man who drink five pints of lager will order more Indian food than he can possibly eat “. I mean…..profound or WHAT ?! On into the night…..