Rotherham Civic Theatre Wednesday April 4th

First night aboard the Flying Bogey, and it’s most splendid . As we only had about thirty – five miles to go to tonight’s show in Rotherham. we decided to stay parked up outside Buxton Opera House. Curtis Stigers is playing there tonight, but he’s got a two o’clock get in and we’ll be well gone by then. It means we can sleep without the bus moving, and we can keep it hooked up to the Opera House’s power so we can keep the systems running overnight. But we know, don’t we, Faithful Blogreader, that hindsight is a wonderful thing ? When we look out the windows this morning the place has turned into a winter wonderland .There’s snow everywhere, and though the roads are reasonable in town, we’re aware that we have to cross the Peaks to get to Rotherham. Suddenly staying here overnight doesn’t look like it was such a good idea…..Arthur, Nick and myself jump into the (very cold ! ) vans, and we set off after the bus. We’ve still got three hours to get there, so no cause for alarm. Until we see John pulling into a lay-by on the A6 just two miles out of town. The first thought is “ he’s broken down “ so we pull in too, but it turns out he’s heard a report on the radio that the A6 is closed….right where we’re going. As there are still cars travelling on both directions we decide to leave the bus where it is for the moment while we push on in the vans to see what the story is. No more than a couple of miles up the road, it becomes obvious that the story is “we’re in trouble”. As we’re climbing up the peak we run into a stationary line of traffic. The snow cover’s heavy but the roads themselves look absolutely fine, so we’re thinking it’s maybe an accident or some kind of incident holding us up. It’s still snowing quite hard, too, but it’s not lying on the road surface, so we’re pretty confident that whatever the problem is, it’ll be cleared soon. After half an hour without moving, however, our confidence is starting to wane a little. There’s an extra problem, too….as we’d been expecting a short journey, Arthur and I had just got into our work clothes, so both of us were wearing shorts. Not a problem in itself…except that the van heater, which hitherto had been stuck on
“ Tropical “ has now switched itself to “ Sub-Zero” and will only blow cold air. To add to our woes, we realise that there’s little or no mobile phone coverage here…nor is there any down where the bus is parked, so we can’t even tell the guys what’s happening. An hour ticks by. Then another. Then another. Two very real possibilities begin to present themselves. The first, and most unpalatable, is that we might not make the show tonight, and we already know it’s sold out. The second is that we could even end up stuck here overnight, and that would be actually dangerous, underdressed as we are. In the van we’ve just got a bottle of water, a bag of crisps and three Haribo sweets….not exactly what you’ll find as staple items in the Bear Grylls Guide To Arctic Survival, but it’s all we have. As time goes on we start to cast sly glances at each other, both of us thinking the same thing…“ I wonder what he tastes like ?” Eventually we start to inch forward, and finally get to a spot where we have mobile service, so we tee Rotherham up on our predicament and let the boys in the bus know what’s going on. We decide that if we’re still here at four o’clock we’ll have to pull the show, and so we call our agent, Alan Field, to put him in the picture and start looking at potential replacement rates. With agonising slowness we crawl up the hill as the hands speed round our watchfaces. There’s another uncomfortable aspect to all of this, which is that freezing cold + bottle of water + ageing bladders = uncontrollable urges to pee. Bearing in mind what we’re wearing and the outside conditions of cold and driving snow, understandably we hang on until the last possible moment, but some things won’t be denied. I gingerly open the door of the van and it’s nearly wrenched out of my hand by the howling gale. Fighting it back, I jump out of the van, landing ankle deep in snow and slush which instantly soaks my shoes and drops my core temperature by a further several vital degrees. Now, in deference to our female readers and those of you of a genteel disposition, I shall dispense with the more graphic details involved in trying to extricate an unwilling todger from the warm safety of his boxer shorts and have him perform the necessary function into the teeth of an Arctic wind. All I will say is that I’ll never look at a mini cocktail sausage in the same light again. Back in the cab of the van it’s still freezing, but at least we’re out of that wind….and miraculously, soon we’re out of the traffic as well. They’ve finally got snowploughs and breakdown trucks to the top of the peak and have managed to open one lane, so we inch over the pass. John had managed to get the bus back into Buxton but was totally gridlocked once there…at least the lads had been able to get into a local pub and use the facilities. Now the road’s open, he can hopefully get turned around and head back out after us, though we know it’ll still take him a while to get out. Frustratingly, within a couple of miles of the peak summit, the snow has given way to driving rain, and everything’s clear….it was just the mile of so across the peak that had caused all the trouble. So now we have a dilemma. We’ve got all the gear, and three of the crew…but no band. Even if we make it, maybe John won’t, and it’ll all have been for nothing. Still, we can only deal with what’s in front of us, so we put the pedal to the metal and tear-arse as fast as we can to Rotherham. The vans pull up just after four – thirty, a miracle in itself, but we’re going to need a little more diving intervention if this is still going to work. Luckily we have two really good local lads, Andy and Damian, who totally appreciate the plight we’re in, and pitch in like troopers. On the way down we’re worked out that we’d just chuck all the gear in, then Arthur would set up the monitors and PA if he could while I did the projectors and Nick started on the backline. Initially there’s a real sense of frantic activity, but we’re experienced enough to know the old adage “ more haste, less speed “ is going to be the watchword here. We still don’t know where the bus is, and to be honest we daren’t ask; it’d just be heartbreaking if they don’t make it after all this. We’ve made huge inroads into the gear when a message comes through from Tomps….they’re in Chesterfield, less than half an hour away. We’ve got a fighting chance now, and when the rest of the lads finally arrive, it’s as if a little army’s walked in the door. Rodders dives straight into the lighting, Pug and Tomps efficiently finish off what we’ve managed to start and the band all help with their own instruments. We’d been told by the management they could afford to hold the showtime back until 8.00pm if necessary, butt after an incredibly short soundcheck, we realise we’ve created a little miracle of our own. Not only will the show go up at the scheduled time, but it’ll be the full thing…we haven’t had to compromise or drop anything out. Frankly, it’s an astonishing feat given where we all were just a couple of hours ago. I’ve been doing this for thirty years or so, and I’ve never seen anything like it. Totally brilliant, and it could only have been achieved by a team like this, where everyone trusts everyone else and there’s such a great espirit de corps. Given everything that’s happened it would almost be understandable if the show itself was a bit of an anticlimax, but it’s not…we’ve got a sell-out crowd and they’re totally up for it. The sheer relief of actually being there seems to make the band relax, too, and it’s one of the best nights of the tour so far. An added bonus at load-out is the appearance of Chris “” Junior “ Stocker, back in the fold for the next ten gigs or so. He’s braved the vagaries of the British rail network to get here, and it’s great to see him and his hairy brown duffel – coat again. Happy days…. It’s been a fantastic achievement all round here….but I REALLY wouldn’t like us to start making a habit of it. I’ve got little enough hair left already………

View From The Kit...Buxton and Rotherham

I can’t say Buxton was my favourite show of the tour so far. In fact, from a playing perspective, it was my worst. But ask any of the crew and they’ll probably tell you a totally different story. Having journeyed up with the lads in one car, leaving at midday we got to Buxton on time, scoffed lunch, had a couple of pints….all the signs were good. But no. Not for me. Having been given a bum steer to the shops just 45 minutes before showtime ( for the beer and water hunt ) and having run around town like a simpleton, I JUST made it back to the dressing room with minutes to spare, breathless. So I had no voice, the steep rake on the stage kept pulling my hi-hat downhill, the audience seemed miles away ( blah blah blah....ok, moaning over ! ) Anyway, I hated the gig, I played like a knob. Sometimes this just happens. Of course, the audience aren’t aware, and everyone will say to you afterwards “ No, it sounded fine “ but you just know that you haven’t played with your usual feel or fire. In this band everyone’s a top player, and that makes you raise your game. If you’re not nailing your own performance to your expectations, that’s a real downer. So what follows, dear blog reader ? Well, we awoke the next day, having slept like kittens in a sock….yes, the new tour bus is here, folks !!What we woke up to, however, wasn’t quite so cosy. Outside the bus was a Siberian snow blizzard.. Buxton was totally cut off, all roads were blocked…we were absolutely stuffed ! And to make matters worse, Arthur, Tony and Nick had left at silly o’clock and were trapped in gridlock. A sold - out show in Rotherham awaits us, and we’re having to face the unthinkable…..cancellation. The poor guys sat and froze in motionless misery for four hours. Fast forward, then, to an astonishing turnaround come 6.30pm. Due to improved road conditions ( snow ploughs helping ), utterly brilliant teamwork, help from the crew in house at the theatre in Rotherham and the fastest soundcheck ever for a Bootleg’s show ( just 20 minutes ) we took to the stage on time, to an ecstatic audience and the usual standing O come the finish. What a proud little chap I am to be part of this wonderful show with this great bunch of guys ! Bring on South Shields ! Tomorrow the sun will shine !!

Buxton Opera House Tuesday April 3rd

Today’s a bit of a red – letter day, as John and the new bus are finally joining the tour. This will ( hopefully ! ) be the last of the self-drive days for the band, and Team Bootle will be all aboard the Skylark from tonight. Buxton’s always a nice gig to play….lovely theatre, beautiful town, great crew, and an excellent pub just across the road. What more could you ask for ?! As his van has displayed something of an aversion to hills, Arthur, Pug and I travelled up last night as far as Ashbourne in order to lighten the load tomorrow, because if there’s one thing this area has in abundance, it’s hills. Bloody great big ones, in fact, and whilst they’re all very picturesque and gorgeous and that, they’re not much fun when you’re trying to labour up them at twenty miles an hour in a fully laden van. As it turns out, Nick, Tomps and Rodders arrive at the gig ahead of us, even though they’ve come all the way from Hoddesdon via Wellingborough this morning.. The weather’s turned a bit manky as well, with cold, driving rain lashing down. For Pug, recently returned from the sunny climes of Australia, it’s all a bit much, and the poor wee chap looks decidedly miserable, dressed as he is for a day at Bondi rather than a show in the Derbyshire Dales. Note to self : Get the lad some trousers ! This is a mega – speedy load in today, as we’re freezing our little nadgers off and just want to get inside. We also hear tell that there may be snow tonight, and the air’s cold enough for us to believe it without question. To think that just a couple of days ago those little nadgers were being sweated, as opposed to frozen off….doncha just LOVE the English weather ? Inside the building though, all is cosy and warm, and we set to work. The band are driving themselves up today on a one – way car hire, so we’re hoping against hope that nothing else goes wrong with John’s plans. As it turns out, we’re just a few minutes away from soundcheck when some familiar Geordie tones boom across the stage. Bagpusss be praised !! John’s here, which means he MUST have a bus, unless, of course, he’s just cycled over and is playing a sick joke on us. It’s good to see the big fella again, though, and he proudly shows us over his new acquisition. She’s an interesting shade of green, and he tells us she’s going to be called “ Sweet Pea”, but the crew rapidly give her an alternative name. Henceforth she will be known to us as “ The Flying Bogey “ . There’s a moment of panic when we see that the bunks are three high instead of the normal two, but as she’s a half-decker ( this means she looks like a double – decker from the outside, but the floor has been dropped to give more space upstairs ) they’re still the normal size. The less limber members of our little party, specifically Arthur and myself, realise that there’s no chance whatsoever of us being able to shimmy up into the top bunks, and lying virtually on the floor would be fine as long as we never wanted to get up again, which rules out the bottom bunk, so we claim a mid-level one each, which means that we can literally roll in to bed without risking serious injury or embarrassing contortions way beyond our physical capabilities. Got to say that the bus is lovely…upstairs and downstairs lounges and even a kind of standing bar area by the upstairs galley, with four seats and a little work table for me at the front. Best of all, though, is that the bunk area has doors at both ends to isolate it from the rest of the bus, so no matter how noisy the neighbours get we can slumber on undisturbed. At last it feels like we’re on the tour !!! So with our accommodation for the foreseeable future sorted, we start to focus on the show. Although it’s quite a small theatre, there’s a really big, deep stage at the Opera House. Rather than do what would appear to be obvious, which is to turn the amps up to fill the space, the guitars in particular have to stay at a modest level, giving Arthur the chance to control the sound totally. In smaller places like Andover, what tends to happen is that the drums can very easily overpower everything, and so people start to turn up to compete, and the result is that you get everything louder than everything else, and that’s REALLY not good. Tonight the levels are just perfect, though, and with Rodders’ lights combining with the theatre rig, we actually see and hear what a truly excellent theatre show this is, and, of course, where we can go with it.. It’s a BIT weird as the audience are so far away from the band ( there’s a very wide orchestra pit ) but otherwise it’s a great show. Now, contrary to all my expectations, we’ve already had blog contributions from two of the tour party, and we thought it’d be really good to have a band perspective on things, because we all see things differently sometimes. That being the case, let me finish here and hand over to our Steve…..

Rushden Ramblings.....day off, Monday April 2nd

Rodders' Ramblings......Not sure if this was one of my better ideas to volunteer to step up to the plate and jot down my thoughts, especially on a day off while staying at Tomps' house with vast amounts of 'special apple juice' staring at me from across the table.So here we are, nine shows in on our third national tour with the Bootleg Sixties Show. It has been great to have been involved with the show from the first tour in 2010 and watch the reaction of the Audiences from out front., something that Tony, Tomps and Pug don't get a chance to see as they are tucked away in the Stage wings. After loading the vans last night at the end of the show in Stevenage, Tony had the task of dropping myself and Tomps in Rushden, then Pug at his place of residence before finally making his way to his 'lodgings'. Luckily it was a relatively short drive by the Bootlegs standards and we were back at Tomps' in an hour, a quick Rock 'n' Roll cup of tea later and time for bed. This morning was spent popping to Waitrose and Sainsburys to get some liquid refreshment for the day ahead (as well as eggs, bread, chicken and far too many packets of crisps and nuts........well it IS a day off).Once back at Hotel Tomps it’s time to open the first of the bottles of moonshine. Tomps decides to pressure wash the patio before the hosepipe ban comes into force but unfortunately for him the lance seems to have a rather large hole in the side and he is promptly drenched at his first attempt. Not to be beaten he valiantly continues with the job in hand and by the time he is finished he looks more like a drowned rat. As we will finally be on the tour bus after the next show in Buxton its only fair on our fellow travellers to at least start the next stage of the Tour with clean clothes so the most important job of the day is getting the washing done.The rest of the day is spent tying up loose ends on other projects, quaffing more apple juice and in someone’s case falling asleep firstly at the dinner table and then perched on the edge of the bath!!!!! I couldn't possibly mention who it was but I make a mental note to myself not to try and keep up with Tomps….Tomorrow morning we are being picked up by Nick in the van before heading up to Buxton, so it is time to pack the bags again for our next little adventure on the road.Many thanks must go to our Sponsor of today’s ramblings – one Henry Weston who to coin a phrase from Mr Kipling 'Makes exceedingly good cider'…..!

Stevenage Gordon Craig Theatre Sunday April 1st

I HAD been hoping for a bit of a better start to the day today, but it was not to be. We go to Sainsburys to grab some breakfast before hitting the road, and all is normal until I sit down. It takes about ten seconds to realise I’m going to throw up, and I just make it to the loo in time. Absolutely no idea what caused it as I haven’t really eaten anything much. Stress ? Possibly, but I feel like crap and have to drag myself outside to get some fresh air. Not the best way to kick off proceedings…..by the time we get to Stevenage the old plumbing has calmed down a bit, but I’m still pretty washed out. Luckily this is one of the easiest get-ins on the tour, and the crew here are great, so I take it a bit easier with the lifting and shifting. In a way I wish all theatres were like this…there’s loads of wing space so you can store all your empty cases near the stage, the acoustics are really nice and as it’s so high, once Rodders has worked his magic, it looks beautiful. For all the stage space, though, it’s still actually pretty intimate, and that’s a winning combination. Nice theatre….we’ll take it, thanks. Have it wrapped and I’ll pick it up tomorrow……The other thing about Stevenage is that on this tour it’s very much the closest thing we have to a “ hometown” gig, so we’re expecting a decent turnout and plenty of friends. More importantly, it also has a chocolate vending machine by the stage door, Apparently. Can’t say I’ve noticed myself. Nick’s daughter Emily has berated him for his diet on the road, and despite the fact that we’ve assured her we do make sure that our intake covers all the major food groups ( McDonalds, Burger King, KFC and Pizza Hut ) she’s supplied him with a Red Cross parcel of healthy goodies to share, like sausage rolls, cocktail sausages, chicken dippers and mini Scotch eggs. I briefly wonder what her concept of unhealthy food would be, but I’m not complaining…my poorly tum hasn’t had anything today, and it needs fuel ! It being a Sunday, our choice of local comestibles is severely limited, so these bijou snackettes are most welcome. Thanks, Em….All is going smoothly and we’re about ten minutes from curtain up. I’m standing in the wings talking to Chris when I’m aware of a popping sound and I realise the LED lights at the back of the stage have gone off. We’ve had a trip-out, and even though I find the offending fuse and flick it back on, we’ve now got no moving lights and no effects pedals for Jamie,… and that’s just what I can see from here. I’ve no idea what else we may have lost, but then Rodders tells me we lost the main mixing desk too, so I call for Arthur and the other crew . This isn’t good, and it’s waaaaay beyond my limited technical capabilities. After five minutes of quite fevered running around and cable – checking, we come to the conclusion ( wrongly, as it turned out ) that it was the extension running Jamie’s effects pedals which had fused the trip by overloading the circuit. With order duly restored, we have to go straight into the show…and just as the curtain’s about to rise Tomps notices that the screens have started to flicker. Risking life, limb and a pretty nasty electric shock he dives into the back of the vision mixer and does his thing. I have to say that as I don’t know what he ACTUALLY did…it’s some sort of AV Bloke alchemy, but whatever it was it works, and stays working for the show. We finally get the show underway, and the crowd are onside right away. Some people, like Marilyn and Debbie, have seen this show probably almost as many times as I have, but it still goes down brilliantly. The lads have tightened up some of the links between songs as well, and this makes a big difference to the slickness of the show. I’m just at the point where I’m starting to relax into it a bit and almost enjoy myself when Steve snatches off his headphones at the end of the Cher number. This is one of three songs the band do with a click track, and hearing the click itself is crucial to Steve being able to keep himself in time. For some reason tonight, though, the click disappears before the end of the track, and it’s lucky that it IS near the end, otherwise it could have been a bit of a ‘mare. I’m wondering why so many bits and pieces are going wrong, and then it hits me…it’s bloody April Fool’s Day, isn’t it ?! Suddenly all becomes clear….. The only other slight mishap we have convinces me that supernatural forces are at work here today. There are no doors open, no obvious draughts and no big extractor fans, but whenever Rodders fires a big belt of smoke onto the stage ( and I’m talking BIG, like “Mount Etna erupting” big ) it billows across the stage, stops dead at Phil’s feet, has a bit of a look around, clearly doesn’t like what it sees, turns tail and envelopes Tomps and I in an impenetrable pea-soup fog. This, you may not be surprised to hear, is far from pleasant. He’s only three feet away from me but he’s totally disappeared into the murk, and being the hypochondriac that I am, I just KNOW I’m going to get an asthma attack if the mist doesn’t clear soon. I must have been sending out telepathic pleas for mercy to Rodders, as he decides the unit’s’s a waste of time, thereby saving us both from death by smoke machine. I’m almost relieved when the encore is played ( a kicking version of All Shook Up, Fact Fans ) as tonight was one of those nights where you just had this sense of impending disaster concerning all things technical. It’s those bloody gremlins again…As it’s a day off for most people tomorrow, the band head for the bar to catch up with friends, knowing a late-ish night isn’t going to hurt for once. On the last tour the house crew here managed to match Newport Riverfront crew’s record get-out time for the show. Arthur had told them it’d be Mars Bars all round if they made it, and you’d have thought he’d offered them gold doubloons, the way they worked. They’re up for the challenge again tonight. They ask what the reward will be, and Arthur tells them it’s Easter eggs this time if they hit the target, so these poor lads work their nuts off, as do our own crew, and the record is duly matched, It’s at this point that I sidle away, however, as I may just have eaten some of the prize Easter eggs. Or all of them, in fact. Well, no-one told me they were meant to be shared ! I’m innocent , I tell you……..

Marlborough Theatre On The Hill Saturday March 31st

This is the shortest hop of the tour so far; about twenty miles, so we take the chance to leave late and have a bit of a chill-out. The band are sitting in the hotel lounge, which looks out over the market place, and Den makes the suggestion that he might go and have a look around the town. I nod towards the window and indicate that what he can see is pretty much it…. Andover’s actually quite picturesque in places but last night it was full of the loud, aggressive, mobs of drunks that we’re seeing in every British town at weekends these days. And that was just the girls. There’ll be no such behaviour tonight….not only is Marlborough quite a genteel place, the Theatre On The Hill is also way out of town up an incredibly steep hill ( see what they did there ? ). This is our third visit to the venue, which is actually part of St John’s School, and is run by a lovely lady called Kate O’Connor. It’s a little bit weird today when we arrive, as this is the first day of the Easter holiday, and the school, which is light, airy and full of open spaces and long corridors, is eerily deserted. I also have an odd moment when I go to have a pee…there’s a sign on the door that says “ Male Staff Only “ and for some reason I hesitate about going in, and even look around to see if anyone’s watching. Once, back in the days when God was a lad, I got caught short at school and used the staff toilets, thinking no-one would see. A sadistic old git of a sports master called Anstey saw me coming out, though, and I copped it. Who says your schooldays don’t leave scars ?! I mentally shake myself and remember that a) no-one’s here b) I’m probably older than most of the male staff anyway c) I exacted sweet revenge on Anstey by kicking lumps out of his star footballer son in a match against this poor kid’s school while Dad stood helpless and fuming on the touchline, and d) if I don’t go in there’s going to be a puddle the size of Lake Titicaca on the floor. The python is duly siphoned, and we return to the task of setting up the show. Last time here they didn’t have an adapter for their three-phase power supply and we ended up running everything off 13amp sockets, which was, to say the least, a bit nerve-wracking. Today, though, their lesson learned, we bang into their main juice and all is splendid. Aided by Kate’s supplies of tea and biccies we whip everything into shape quickly and by four o’clock we’re ready to soundcheck. Last time out we had the bus here, so the isolation of the school wasn’t so much of an issue in the time that drags between soundcheck and doors, but no such luck this time, so like soldiers waiting to go into battle, we all slip into our little pastime rituals. Some read, some sleep, some smoke, some watch the latest episode of Corrie on their iPads ( yes, Mr Tompkins, I’m talking about you ). As we’re getting more efficient with the build, so we end up with a little more of this dead time to deal with. We COULD just push the get-in back, but then we’re not allowing ourselves any contingency, so we’re stuck with it. Eventually it’s kick-off time, and right from the word go we know this one’s going to be a bit different. On the last tour we had people dancing in the space right in front of the stage from about the third number. This time they don’t even wait that long. We learn there’s a group of twenty who have driven all the way down from Stafford to see the show, and they are GOING TO PARTY !! This is fine, and we appreciate them coming, but it DOES cause a problem….the theatre has a low stage, and with these people all jigging about in front of it, quite a lot of people in the bleacher seats can’t see properly, and there’s a little bit of friction. Some hardy dancers even stay on the floor for the video inserts and slower numbers, but the real problem is Pinball Wizard. This is where we detonate the pyrotechnics, which are in a line along the front of the stage. In the regular theatres this isn’t an issue, but here it’s going to be impossible to use them as people are literally on top of them. However, we’d reckoned without Nick “ Shep “ Liddard. He wades into the crowd and, arms outstretched and acting like the world’s tallest collie, herds everyone away from the stage and to a safe distance until the pyros have gone off to cheers and whoops, and then he lets them all back on to the dancefloor again. That’ll do, Shep, that’ll do…..This was the place where we first heard the band play Spirit In The Sky as an encore, and so it’s become a bit of a tradition. Needless to say, tonight’s rampaging version gets the dancers going bananas, and it’s without doubt the best of the three shows we’ve played in Marlborough. For me, it’s been a bad night, though. Apart from a pile of personal poo, I got a call just before the show to say that the bus wouldn’t be ready on Monday after all, so all our plans have to change yet again, and right now I just don’t need that. We start to kick around ideas even as we’re loading out the gear tonight….it’s quite a logistical headache as we all have to end up in the same place with our personal transport left where we can go back to it, and having got to where we’re going in such a way that no-one has to drive for ten hours or whatever. To complicate matters the band are being driven home by Nick tonight, so we have to pretty much start from scratch with them. Still, that’s why we get paid the big bucks ( NOTE : This is a sick joke, Mr Inland Revenue inspector ). We sit down briefly with Den and Steve after the show to share a few ideas, and by the time we’ve loaded out and reached the crew hotel in nearby Swindon we’ve got a workable solution. Normally I like all the logistical puzzles but tonight I’ve just had enough. Tired and pissed off, I finally fall into bed at about 2am. Tomorrow is Stevenage, and we’re all going home afterwards, so hopefully that’ll help……

Andover The Lights Friday March 30th

As we leave Telford this morning we see first hand what some government drone described as “ self – inflicted madness “. Firstly we pull into a big Tesco to grab some breakfast, and every one of their squillion pumps is empty. Not that you know that until you drive all the way round the winding little access road, of course….rather than put the cones across the start of the road, they leave them by each pump , and they’ve rather brilliantly scrawled “ NO DEEZUL OR PETRUL “ on a piece of A4 paper and taped it to a cone. You have to be within five yards of it to be able to read the bloody thing, by which time the two little hi-vis wearing numpties inside the garage have started waving their arms and gesturing that they’re closed. I briefly consider driving the van straight through the front of the building and grinding their miniscule brains into strawberry jam, but I can’t be bothered with the paperwork ( or the ensuing life sentence for murder, of course ) so I give them the finger and we drive on. We may JUST have enough fuel to get us to Andover, but the big worry is that we’d then find ourselves stuck in rural Wiltshire. We head out onto the M54 and after a few false leads, we finally luck out with a services that still has fuel for a bargain £ 1.54 a litre. Can I just say here and now that when the revolution comes, these profiteering bastards will be the first ones up against the wall…..Further on in our journey we’re crossing under a road bridge just south of the M4 and I notice stationary traffic right across it. As we go underneath the bridge I glance to my left and see the traffic line stretches for about half a mile, waaaaaaaay down a hill to a little petrol station. It’s insanity, especially as we’re being told there’ll be no strike until after Easter at least. Because of the delay looking for fuel and the fact that the van, toting a heavy load as she is, tends to drop to 30mph at the slightest incline, Arthur and I are an hour late arriving at The Lights. The other van’s already there, though, and the three boys have cracked on with their stuff, so the delay’s not crucial. We love this theatre….it’s only problem is that the stage area is quite cramped, and there’s not a great deal of storage space , but it’s a really great, intimate place, and the fact that we’ve sold out again is the cherry on the top. At dinnertime I discover the second candidate for my revolutionary firing squad…Domino’s Pizza. Four fairly sad-looking and none too large pizzas….that’ll be fifty of your Earth Pounds, please, Mr Muggins…Anyway, enough of my curmudgeonly carpings. As I didn’t talk about last night’s show much, I’ll tell you a little more about tonight’s. We’ve made another addition….a voiceover at the top of the show which replaces the old “ You are requested not to smoke…” gag, and it gets a good laugh, which eases us into the first set. Tonight’s one of those nights where the first half just seems to fly by; the band are rocking and Steve’s really digging into his kit. The acoustic section possibly goes down best, though, and Steve’s new little percussion tree that he uses on Concrete And Clay gives him and Den a bit of comedy prop value. After having printed several more setlists for everyone, it comes as no surprise to hear that the boys are going to change the last number in the first set again…grrrrr…..Before the start of the show we did another tweak of the running order, with the frankly brilliant Eleanor Rigby being moved back further into the set. At the moment it’s the second song of the second set, and to be honest it’s a bit wasted there, so it changes places with the 1966 Medley, and the job’s a good ‘un. Works perfectly, and we’re all pretty much satisfied that this will be the set for the rest of the tour…well, until tomorrow night’s show, at
least ! As Andover is the home of Sixties legends The Troggs, there can only be one choice for the encore, of course, and a blistering Wild Thing pretty much takes the roof off the place. Game, set and match, as they say. There’s a proper scrum of people wanting to meet the lads after the show, which is always a sure sign of a job well done. Having glad-handed their way back to the dressing room, the band head out for a well-earned beer, leaving us to pack up and steal away as if we’d never been here ! Before we close this wee chapter of the tour, a note about our accommodation is in order. Since we realised that the bus wouldn’t be with us for a week or so, we’ve had to sort out hotels at fairly short notice, and this isn’t always simple in the more out of the way places. Tonight’s a case in point…there are really only two hotels in the town and one of them was way beyond our budget. As such we find ourselves in the Danesbury, an old coaching inn right in the High Street. This is totally fine….except that it’s Friday night, and about three feet away from the reception desk is the function room, which is hosting some hellish disco / karaoke hybrid at eyeball-rattling volume. There was no way at all to hear what the receptionist was saying to me, so we came up with a plan. It’s the first time I’ve ever checked into a hotel in Braille….Up in my room the vibration from the sub-bass below was causing the bed to do little bunny-hops across the floor, so I gave up and headed down to the bar, where pretty much everyone else had convened, presumably in an attempt to escape the sonic assault. After a couple of drinks the racket shows no sign of abating, so we asked when it would finish. “ Don’t worry “ said the barman, cheerfully, “it only goes on until 2.00am “……I groan, fish out the earplugs, and head back upstairs……
Today’s Motoring Tip : Before setting out on a long journey, always check your tyres. There should be about four.