Winter Tour 2012, First Week

Hereford Courtyard Sunday November 11th ……and suddenly the tour’s not just upon us, it’s clambering all over our eiderdowns and sticking a foot in our goolies. Hard to believe that it’s been nearly seven months since our happy band last climbed aboard the Flying Bogey to criss – cross the highways and byways of this Sceptr’d Isle.. Sooooo much has happened in that time, yet as the gear comes out of the vans and into the Courtyard Theatre in Hereford, it feels like the last gig was just a couple of days ago. Most obvious change this time around is the absence of the aforementioned Flying Bogey. Turns out there was a problem with her knurled grunion rod or overhead underhang or some such mechanical jiggery – pokery, but the net result is that there’s no Big John and no nice warm bunk waiting for us at the end of the loadout. As such we’re going to be at the mercy of the evil Dr Travelodge and his vile minions, and we’ll all be driving ourselves too. I can hardly wait. There’s a new face on the team as well….Rodders has had the proverbial offer he couldn’t refuse and so is gallivanting around the country with Joan Armourplating. As such we’re welcoming back Damian Goddard, who did lights on the mini – tour with us a couple of lifetimes back. We’re also going to be without Nick for the first nine or so gigs; he’s got some commitments at home that he can’t get out of, and as such Chris “Junior “ Stocker will be stepping in to cover backline for that period. Otherwise it’s the usual suspects…..Chris Skornia’s back on keyboards for the tour as new bug Alex Richards has the sheer effrontery to actually have a Proper Job which prevents him coming out on these longer jaunts, and then there’ll be Arthur, Tomps, Pug and, of course, your humble scribe. I must also apologise for the tardiness in getting this blog malarkey rolling; normally I write on the bus after the show or in the morning following it, but as we’re self – driving, I just simply haven’t had the time, and so I’m doing a kind of précis of the first six shows. Hopefully normal service will be resumed shortly…..I also wanted to clarify why we’re back out on tour. It’s because we owe a cartel of Colombian drug barons an enormous amount of money for all the cocaine we’ve bought, and they’ve threatened us with a fate worse than death if we don’t cough up ( although I must say I can’t actually imagine a fate worse than death….). Seriously though, it’s partly because we’ve been running into issues with Easter in the spring tours, when some theatres simply won’t book shows over that weekend. As long as we stay clear of panto season, an autumn / winter period should hopefully be better, but as we couldn’t leave it eighteen months from last spring’s tour until NEXT winter, we’ve stuck in this mini-jaunt to bring us in line again so than we can tour annually. Capice ? Excellent !!Hereford turns out to be an interesting night in all sorts of ways. Firstly, and most gratifyingly, it’s sold well, so there’s no shaking off the tour rustiness in front of two men and a dog in some rural barn…..any mistakes will be writ large ‘pon the stage. No pressure, then….Damian’s probably got the hardest task initially; we’d got to the point with Rodders where some kind of rock’n’roll ESP was at work, but Damian’s coming in virtually from scratch, which means setting up all the cues and scene changes again. He’s not helped in this by the absence of the moving lights we used last time out; we’re actually getting some for the Coventry show but for the first gig it’s the house lights only, and he also has to listen to me bleating on with all the various cues and directions. Lovely. In the foyer before the show we’re amazed to see Jim and Irene, who have trekked over hill and dale to the Courtyard Theatre to help us raise the curtain on this tour, and it really DOES make a difference to see friendly faces in the audience, especially so far from home. Well played, you two !! This is essentially the same show we toured in the Spring, with, ( I think ) just one change to the set, so that helps as well. Mind you, the fact that the new set lists we’re all working off have the wrong running order on doesn’t really make life easier….! As ever, though, experience prevails, and we kick things off in fine style…in fact, it’s as though we’d never been away. Nothing falls over, no-one forgets their words or fluffs a chord, and all in all it’s a strong start to the tour. The load – out’s a bit slow as there’s no Nick to call out the “pack” for his vehicle, so it all ends up being a bit of a bugger’s muddle, but this pales into insignificance when it becomes clear that Den’s lost his car keys. This is Bad News, as we’re not exactly just a few miles from home here, and the car’s needed to ferry Den and Phil around. After much intense searching, the only thing that can be surmised is that they were somehow lost when the band headed to a local watering – hole for some nosebag earlier today. We mooch off to the Travelodge with it’s overall lack of bedding, warmth and general cheer, and our heads are full of contingency travel plans all the way there. It’s been a good first day in general, but this doesn’t bode well….. Coventry Belgrade Monday November 12th The day dawns misty, wet and miserable, but this all changes when Den’s keys turn up in the pub from yesterday. Cue huge sighs of relief all round, and a suggestion from one of two of the party members that we actually superglue them to Den’s hand to avoid further such incidents. Pug and I are picking up some moving lights from our old mucker Ian Robson at TechPS in Milton Keynes today, but as we set out it soon becomes clear that someone has moved MK further east in the night, as our two – hour journey through the bucketing rain inexorably stretches into three, and suddenly we’re struggling to make the 1.00pm load – in time at Coventry. We manage to roll up only twenty minutes late, only to find the loading bay blocked by a posh red car. This, it transpires, belongs to the Creative Director of the theatre, who is clearly not so bloody creative that he can actually read a schedule and see when there’s a show due to be coming in to his theatre. As the minutes tick by and tempers start to fray, thoughts of tow – ropes and using vans as bulldozers begin to flit across our minds, but just before any vehicular unpleasantness can be perpetrated the offending luvvie returns and clears the way. Now, we LOVE the Belgrade, and they seem to love us right back. This is our fourth time here, and it’s a beautiful place with excellent facilities. In the ideal world we’d like to be coming here further into the tour when we’ve got all the lights and stuff firing on all cylinders, but it is what it is, as they say, so here we are. Damian has a massive struggle with the moving lights, which steadfastly refuse to have any truck with either him OR his lighting desk, and much cursing ensues, punctuated by a loud thrashing noise and what would appear to be bits of lights tinkling to the floor. The slightly later show start time they have here gives him the chance to invoke the Lighting Gods, and thus by burning incense and chanting, at curtain up we’ve got a full, if occasionally recalcitrant, lighting rig. No such worries for the band tonight….buoyed by the fact that there are six hundred people in front of them going banzai, they set the controls to “ Stun “ and duly deliver. On this form they truly are unstoppable, and even if it’s not their slickest performance they still beat the shreddies off anyone else on the planet playing this kind of music…and yes, I DO include the original artists who are still plying their trade. As Sir Elton says, they ARE the best. End of. Only slight disappointment from a crew angle tonight is the choice of “ Walk Alone “ as the encore….though we can appreciate it’s merits as an arms – aloft singalong, the band have better fare in their locker, and we’d like to see them raze the place to the ground with some raw power. No such gripes from the crowd though, which includes Jim and Irene yet again ( you folks are stars ! ) as well as the Baroness Of Brazen Bopping, our pal Marilyn Reynolds. Marilyn also solved our “ Forgotten Programmes “ dilemma by picking them up and bring them here ( nice one, Maz !!! ) and we’ve also seen the lovely Dawn Gerrard, so it’s been almost a full house of the Uber-Fans. As we’re relatively close to our respective bases ( except for Damian, who resides in the Grand Duchy Of Ipswich ) we’re all heading back home tonight, and that does take the edge off the cold and relentless rain which manages to permeate everything on the load-out. There’s still a bit of farting around with the gear in the other van, but by employing our Zen-like powers of concentration ( and a fair amount of brute force and ignorance ) we get out in reasonable time. Under normal circumstances we’d all be out of here in an hour, but it’s still not too shabby, and I’m looking forward to being home and ( literally ) dry in about 50 minutes, when a Good Samaritan act backfires and derails my plans. I’ve stopped in a garage to get some fuel ( they’re terribly good for that, you know ) and just as I’m paying I’m approached by a harassed and oil – covered chap. He’s got a flat tyre and it turns out that the wheelbrace supplied with his Frog – built car is as much use as tits on a bull, so he’s asking everyone who comes into the garage if he can borrow theirs. Partly because it’s pissing with rain and partly because lots of people are just selfish bastards, he clearly isn’t getting far, and he asks me more in hope than expectation, especially as I’m driving a chuffing great van and he’s in this Gallic crap-heap. Sometimes there IS a god, though, and amazingly, the wheelbrace fits….but that’s as far as it goes. This chap isn’t small by any standards, but after several rain – soaked minutes of hernia – inducing effort, none of the wheelnuts will budge. I then remember that there are extension handles in the van for the wheelbrace, so I duly bring them over, fitted them on, and suggesT to this poor chap that I give it a try. Now, as those of you who have seen me will know, I’m not exactly suffering from anorexia. I’m a big lad. “ Well covered. “ A stranger to salad. Changing a wheel should be a mere bagatelle. However, when my full 18 and a bit stones are precariously balanced on this wheelbrace handle and the bloody wheelnuts STILL won’t move, I begin to realise with sinking heart that I am encountering the Good Deed Dilemma. Do I say I’ve done my best and leave the poor chap stranded, or do I stay involved and risk being here until the start of the next Ice Age ? Christian charity or a warm bath and bed ?? Luckily the decision is made by a scream of tortured metal, as a wheelnut finally gives way beneath my porcine assault. Slowly the wheelbrace lowers me to the floor, and just as I’m thinking “ I can’t do THAT again…” the next one comes out in sympathy, and so my new – found friend takes over, and with his effusive thanks ringing in my ears I drip my way to the van. Note to self…..if anyone ever approaches me in a garage late at night again, pretend to be Polish. Or deaf. Camberley Theatre Tuesday November 13th By one of those bizarre coincidences, the chap from the garage last night was from Camberley, so I’m keeping a wary eye out as I drive up the hill into the town…..! Camberley Theatre is a dinky little place that we’ve never played before, but it’s very much our kind of gig, apart from the load – in, which involves a kind of tightrope – walk along a metal ramp with a good six – foot drop on either side. It always makes me chortle when I’m asked to supply Risk Assessments for our show, which is as safe as houses, and yet here’s the “official” way into the theatre and it’s riskier than anything WE’RE doing. Mental. The house crew are good lads, though, and they help us bang everything up in good time. Damian’s still having a ‘mare with the moving lights….amazingly, they still operate on floppy disks, and each light has a “ Personality Disk” which enables the lighting desk to tell it what to do. These, however, seem to have “ Multiple Personality Disorder “ disks instead, as they’re still stubbornly refusing to do what Damian’s instructing them. By the time he’s got these sorted he’s up against it time-wise, and the rest of the lights are behind schedule, so we have to do something we NEVER do, which is hold the doors back. This does put everyone on edge a bit, but the crowd are responsive and the place is nice and intimate, so things slot back into the groove pretty quickly. We’ve got a bunch of VIP guests in tonight as well, and we’re hoping to take the show into other areas with their help, so everyone’s on their game, and the first half literally flies by…Tomps even asks me if we cut it down as it seems to have gone so fast. We need to try and catch up on the time a bit, so our interval ice – cream hunt is curtailed to facilitate getting everyone back onstage as quickly as possible. I’d heard wild tales of honey – flavoured ice cream being available, but in the end I settle for plain vanilla in the name of expediency, and must confess to a degree of disgruntlement about this for the entire second half, such is my shallow and materialistic nature. Despite the lighting issues, the show’s a belter, and if we haven’t swayed the VIPs by the end of this then there’s no justice in the world. We even manage to get all the gear out and loaded into the vans without plummeting to our deaths from the ramp, which is nice. The band are all back off home tonight but as we’re heading to Welsh Wales and the delights of Carmarthen tomorrow, the crew are travelling a mere twenty – odd miles after the show tonight and staying at renowned local beauty spot, Reading Services on the M4. Simples, yes ? Wrong. First thing we find is the road to the M4 being closed about five miles out of Camberley, so we dutifully follow the diversion signs….which take us right back into Camberley and past the place we’ve just left. HOW BLOODY HARD WOULD IT BE TO HAVE A SIGN IN CAMBERLEY CENTRE SAYING THAT THIS MAJOR ROAD WAS CLOSED ??!!! YOU TOTAL, HI-VIS VEST -WEARING BASTARDS !!!!To compound the jollity of the evening, the sat nav address of the services is, rather helpfully, for the EASTbound carriageway, but you only realise this as you’re sailing past the exit to the westbound services, where, of course, you want to be. It thus takes over an hour to travel the twenty – one miles to this godforsaken place….but at least we’re here, right ? Wrong. Again. As I pull in, I see the crew coming OUT of the hotel ( and I use the word loosely ) with all their baggage. It appears that the evil Dr Travelodge has decided that the way to REALLY improve quality and customer service is to start implementing an overbooking policy. In essence this means that they have 100 rooms, but will actually sell 103, in the hope that someone simply won’t turn up. I mean, I know that they’ll have paid their money in advance and made all of their travel arrangements, but someone’s BOUND to say “ Ah, sod it….I’ll just not bother going after all. Perhaps the good Dr Travelodge will forward my room prepayment to a worthy cause rather than lining his avaricious pockets with it….” Sadly it appears that tonight everyone had decided that they actually wanted to use the hotel room they’d paid for, with the result that only ONE of our pre-paid rooms is available. Their solution ? Drive further along the M4 to Chieveley Services and take rooms there, and as extra compensation for this frankly illegal misappropriation of our money they’ll provide us with a FREE BREAKFAST ! O be still, my beating heart….Luckily, Tomps, Damian, Pug and Junior are reasonable human beings, and rather than berate the tearful receptionist who has been lumbered with this problem by the greedy, faceless gits who pay her minimum wage, they gamely get back in the car and head west. Arthur and I make our way to a room which Dr Travelodge would probably describe as “ tired “. I call it “ totally bloody exhausted “ or perhaps even “ criminal “, but by now we could sleep on a clothesline, and so, ignoring the threadbare sheets, the lumpy mattresses, the stained wall and the chomp of tiny beasts, we fall into an exhausted sleep, pausing only to make a mental note to burn the place down in the morning…… Carmarthen Lyric Theatre Wednesday November 14th Good sense prevails this morning, and the matches remain firmly in my pocket, but be warned, Dr Travelodge…you are now firmly in my sights, mate….The run into Wales really isn’t at all bad, apart from the Dick Turpin-esque highway robbery that is the toll on the Severn Crossing, and we all roll into the pretty little town of Carmarthen half an hour ahead of get-in time. The Lyric’s a splendid old gaff, although the load – in really does belong to a time when touring companies brought their scenery and costumes along in a horse and cart. There’s room for the two vans…just….one behind the other, and with minimal paint – loss and wing mirror damage we manage to get parked up and unloaded. The final stage of the journey is via a goods lift so antiquated it’s got Roman graffiti on it and squeals like an MP having his expenses sheets examined, but it does the job. This is one of those lovely stages where we can spread out and that really speeds things up. Aided by the sterling efforts of Mick, Johnny and Ffen from the house crew, we’re way ahead of the game today, and it really DOES feel like we’re back in the groove. The band are driving all the way here from home, so we’re hoping they don’t run into any traffic as it’s at least a four and a half hour poke for some of them. Luckily no-one has any serious problems, and as the boys have been on the road such a long time they’re happy to do a pretty brief soundcheck, giving them a bit of chillout time. This suits the crew as well, because it means we can fully devote our efforts to the rather toothsome kebabs that we’ve managed to pick up from just around the corner. We’re normally such healthy chaps, too…..The crowd’s not huge tonight but they’re definitely in good voice, and there’s a really nice vibe to the whole show (man). Den makes the most of the Welsh proclivity for singing, and is rewarded with a robust chorus from the audience on Daydream Believer and Walk Alone, proving that when that song works it REALLY works. For some reason we always seem to do well in south and west Wales…it’s just in the north that we struggle. Definitely got to put THAT right…..Tomorrow’s yet another long run, right up to Chesterfield, so the band are staying here tonight, whilst we’re pushing on to Strensham Services on the M5, two hours or so up the road. For the first time I REALLY miss the tour bus; we’re pretty knackered from yesterday and a long drive up here today, and it’d be great to just climb aboard after a shower tonight, grab a beer, have a quick post mortem on the show then hit the hay and wake up outside tomorrow’s gig. The other thing we’re missing is the sense of camaraderie that we enjoy on the bus; four of the crew lads are travelling together in the car but Arthur and I have got a van each and, of course, the band are split between two cars, so a lot of the time we’re only seeing the band to talk to when they arrive for soundcheck and at the end of the night as they leave. We’re a strong unit so this isn’t actually causing any problems, but it just isn’t the same….the bonding experience of us all being on the bus together isn’t something to lose lightly, and it’s carried us through some tough times in the past. Can’t be helped, though…..we’ve just got to get on with it. To be honest, we’re have been stuffed here if we HAD been in the bus….we might have just managed to get it into the loading bay, but then there’d have been no room for the vans, so we’d have had to do the gig acappella !! The band pootle off to their hotel ( sorry lads, another Travelodge….) and the rest of us climb into our vehicles. Damian’s worried about fuel as the car’s telling him it needs a drink toute suite, and with blind optimism I tell him it’ll be fine…we’re bound to pass a garage soon. We do. Two, actually, both darker than a tabloid editor’s heart, and then we’re waaaaaaaay out on the dual carriageway in the wet and windy wilds of west Wales ( I DO love alliteration, don’t you ?) and heading into the great unknown. There’s not a light to be seen for miles, and above the sound of the van’s engine I can almost hear Damian’s sphincter squeaking as the miles go by and the fuel tank gets emptier. I’m just starting to think about telling him to stop so I can head on and see if I can find some fuel when all of a sudden I spot lights ahead. It’s a services….Saved !! AND they have strawberry milk !!!! Suitably refuelled, we push on for the M5, now a mere hour and a half away. Piece of cake…..What we haven’t taken into account, of course, is that a bloody great bank of fog has parked it’s pea-soupy arse over most of south Wales while we weren’t looking. At times the visibility is down to just a few metres, and it’s just NOT what we need at the end of a long day. It’s so bad that one of the vehicles can’t even see Strensham Services on the M5, misses it totally and has to double back, but one by one we eventually struggle in, eyes out on stalks from peering through the murk. At least we’re in a Day’s Inn tonight, which seems like the Ritz after the vapidity of the Travelodges. The idea of grabbing a beer crosses my mind for about three nanoseconds, and then I’m gone, man, solid gone……. Chesterfield Winding Wheel Theatre Thursday November 15th I feel a new man this morning. He wasn’t very happy about it, though, so he got up and left……..After a most splendid night’s sleep I’m ravenous, and send for a couple of cows to be brought to my room, but room service say they’re fresh out of them, so we all head into the main services. Let me tell you, Faithful Blogreader, should you find yourself in the proximity of a food outlet called SoHo at any motorway services, I most strongly recommend getting your laughing gear around a culinary wonder called the Full SoHo. Luscious bacon, two fat, herby sausages, beans, freshly cooked eggs, two doorstops of toast dripping with butter and best of all, a wee pot of their home-made spicy tomato salsa, all for a most reasonable £ 6.99. Add a flagon of tea and you’ve got a breakfast fit for a king, or at least for a hairy-arsed road crew. Thus fuelled, the trip up the M5, M42 and M1 seems to scoot by, and in no time I’m marvelling at Chesterfield’s famous twisted church spire whilst trying not to run into the car in front of me. I’m actually driving past the Winding Wheel before I spot it; it’s timbered gables make it look more like Ye Olde Pubbe than a theatre, but luckily Tomps fires me through some directions just before I’m about to turn around and make another fruitless pass. I eventually find my way into the backstage area. This boasts a ramp of impressive length and steepness, and my calves and lower back start to whine just from looking at it, but luckily there IS another way in that doesn’t involve death, hernias or runaway flight cases. The Winding Wheel is a really cool little place…bit short on wing space ( i.e. there isn’t any ) and just a bit tight, but it’s got loads of character and despite being able to hold over 1000 people still manages to seem intimate. The house crew are really helpful lads, and the fact that one of them is nicknamed Frodo delights my inner Tolkien. We have to be a bit creative with screens, projectors and the like, but this is one of those days where you actually enjoy doing that, enjoy having to put your creative skills to work. The lights are looking especially good today, with nice, rich colours, and the sound is great. Should be a good one, but once again I’m a bit worried about the band as they’re doing the whole run from Carmarthen in one hit. No sooner have I expressed these thoughts than I get a text from Chris Skornia telling me that they’ve been held up and won’t be with us until about 5.30pm. This is half an hour into soundcheck time but it still isn’t too much of a problem….we’re used to dealing with this kind of situation. Let’s just hope they’re not any later than that…..This show had actually been selling really slowly, and we’d been a bit concerned about it, but a late burst has suddenly pulled it right up, and we’re looking forward to it, not least because we’re staying in town tonight and don’t have to drive anywhere !!! Chris, Steve and Jamie actually pull up at 5.00pm, just before Den and Phil, so we’ve got a full complement, and they’re bang on time. What we ARE missing, it soon transpires, is half of the stage clothes. At first we think they’ve just been mislaid somewhere in the Winding Wheel, but a rummage round confirms our worst fears….they’re not here. It’s gone six now, so there’s no way of checking if they’re still in Carmarthen, but a bit of reverse Sherlock – work gives us a good idea where they might be….and it’s many, many miles from here.. Nothing for it tonight….the lads who HAVE got their stage clothes are just going to have to divvy up with the others and see what can be done. To everyone’s surprise, it actually works pretty well, and no-one looks like they’ve just ram-raided a charity shop. In fact, EVERYTHING works well tonight….the sound and lights are great and the band are on stonking form. When it all comes together like this, I sit and watch things almost as a fan, and I think this show is truly irresistible. There’s nothing of it’s kind on the circuit that can live with it, and even when it’s stacked up against things featuring original artists like Solid Silver 60s and Sixties Gold it STILL wins out, because those shows have fairly low production values. We just need the rest of the world to see it now….! We’re out in good time tonight, largely aided by the slope down into the vans which makes the loading quicker, if a great deal more hazardous, and then to our joy we find the hotel is only a few hundred yards away….AND the bar is still open RESULT !! We even get given a pizza ( admittedly cold ) by one of the noisy drunkards we’re sharing the bar with. Den, Steve and Phil join us and for a while it’s like old times, but it’s been a LOOOOONG day for these lads, and, pausing only to borrow my laptop in order to book some Status Quo tickets, they head off to bed, swiftly followed by a rapidly flagging road crew. Still, short-ish drive tomorrow….this is getting almost civilized !!!! Ilkley Kings Hall Friday November 16th An early call to the Lyric in Carmarthen establishes that the missing stage clothes are, in fact, still there. They kindly offer to courier them up to us today, but as this is going to cost nearly £ 300 and we’ve only got one more show to do before a break, we decide that we’ll make do again tonight, and opt for the twenty – odd quid courier to my house on Monday option instead. After a brief stop in Chesterfield’s leading music store to pick up some bits and bobs, we’re out on the road and heading north to the lovely little town of Ilkley. Back in the days when dinosaurs strode the earth I used to come here, as well as nearby Otley, to visit some local university mates, now sadly scattered and, in the case of one of them, sadly deceased. It’s a pretty little place with bags of character, though it’s very odd coming back here again after such a long time. Best just to get the old head down and crack on with the day’s work. The Kings Hall is an ornate and interesting venue, boasting a “rake” on the stage which is almost as steep as the one at Buxton Opera House. “ Rake “ is one of those old theatrical words still in use, and it loosely translates as “ an unfeasibly vertiginous angle to the stage, designed to turn flight cases into deadly runaway weapons “. We’ll be nailing the lads to the floor to stop them toppling down the slope, I think…..The stage is also about four feet high and so we have to hoik everything up onto it from floor level, thus some VERY creative positioning of gear starts taking place….all the heavy stuff seems to be staying on the floor with miles of cable connecting it to the worky bits high above onstage. I think if there was any way to keep the instruments down here on the floor and have the band perform up there it’d be done, but that DOES seem to be just one step beyond the many and varied talents of the crew. Still, it’ll make things a lot easier come load – out time….. I’d actually forgotten just how much they love their hills round these here parts, but I’m reminded in very short order when I go to park the van ( due to an ancient byelaw, Mercedes Sprinters are banned from parking outside the venue in the hours of daylight, unless it’s the third Tuesday in July, a full moon, or you’ve got a wet haddock in your left – hand pocket ). I’d thought I was just going to park Black Beauty ( for it is she ) “ around the corner “ as described by the house crew. Turns out that “ around the corner “ actually means “ making an assault on the lower slopes of Mount Annapurna “ which I must admit I didn’t know had been moved to Yorkshire. It’s only when the altitude sickness kicks in as I lock the van up that I realise I might be in trouble here, but luckily a passing Sherpa lashes my fainting form to a mountain goat and gets me back down to a level where I can breathe normally again. As we’d thought, when the boys arrive and see the stage, a quick re-think is called for. To stand on the rake for the entire set would be murder on the old calf muscles, so they opt to congregate on the two-foot wide piece of level stage right at the front. Steve’s OK as he’s on a purpose-built drum riser, but Chris doesn’t have the same freedom of movement as the others, and finds his keyboards positioned at a jaunty angle halfway up the incline. He asks if he can swing outwards a bit more but we have to explain that this won’t be possible as we have approximately half a ton of concrete stageweights anchored to his keyboard stand in order to prevent him and his gear joining the front row of the audience. I’ve also had to make sure that the pyros are firmly attached to this flat piece of stage…..if I’d put them further back as I normally do, the angle of the rake would have had them resembling a rocket barrage aimed at the audience, and that’s ALWAYS going to take the shine off your day. Showtime eventually comes around, and the first thing that becomes apparent is that from where Tomps and I are sitting, it sounds as thought the audience are miles away and also being pretty muted. At one point I make the comment “ They’re a quiet bunch tonight, aren’t they ? “ only to have Damian tell me on the comms that from where he’s sitting right amongst them, they’re actually pretty lively, and people are even up and dancing ! There’s another little acoustic vagary that nearly trips us up….it sounds as though the snare drum mics are really, really loud, so all manner of level-changing, graphic equalization and plain old unplugging of cables goes on until it becomes clear that it’s actually the room…..move eight feet to the right or left and suddenly everything levels out ! Once that’s established, everything settles down. The band are in cruise control tonight, we’ve got a few day’s break coming up tomorrow and our audience is ready for a party, so it’s just a case of “ gentlemen, start your engines….see you on the other side ! “. The response afterwards from the house crew is one of the best we’ve ever had….Laura, the young tech who’s been with us all day is raving about the show and texting her friends to tell them what they’ve missed, whilst head tech Andy is effusively assuring us that if we come back we’ll DEFINITELY sell out, and we’re basking in the warm glow of their adulation, right up until the doors are opened to take the first bit of gear out. It’s hosing down out there. We’re on Ilkley Moor and we are, indeed, ‘baht ‘at. Not that a hat would be much protection against the monsoon-esque deluge that lashes us each time we venture to poke our noses outside. One of our number has managed to acquire a sou-wester – like coat with hood, so he manfully strides out looking like an advert for “ Fisherman’s Friends “ but there’s no such luck for the rest of us…..we’re just going to get soaked, and then we’ve got a two to three hour drive back. Hello pneumonia !!! The sheer hellishness of it spurs us into high gear, though, and the load-out is the fastest of the tour so far. I’ve also learned that my daughters are at a hotel in Wakefield, and as I’m driving right past there on the way home I call in to have a brief but happy reunion with them, and use the time there profitably by sticking my soaking t-shirt on a radiator ! A few hours and several Red Bulls later I’m pulling up at Chez Henders. So that’s it…first part of the tour…..DONE !