The Union Tour - 01/10/10 York Day Off - The Road to Hell

And so we need to start the long journey back from York. I was going to get the train back, as I have a radio session tonight, but everyone assures me we will be back in time.

Except Mark can't find the van. No, really, he is walking the streets, looking for the van. He knows he's in the right area, but can't QUITE remember where it is. He parked it in a residential area and all the streets look the same. At first everyone thinks this is funny. We think he is joking.

He is not joking.

I am receiving text updates that all say the same thing. "I can't find the van.

It is also STILL raining.

And lo, the text message arrives "FOUND IT".

Phew.

Poor Mark is absolutely sodden and we make him get changed so he doesn't get pneumonia.

It is STILL raining.

It is raining across the whole of the UK it seems. Or maybe it's just a tiny strip down the whole of the M1. Either way it takes SEVEN hours to get back to London. Which obviously I hadn't banked on. I am meant to be at the studio for 5, which obviously has come and gone. The fingernails disappear one by one. There is no Paranormal Activity to take my mind off it, everyone is tired, Dave is not well and the weather is not helping.

I send text updates to the boys at the studio who are there, set up and ready. Every single mile is wet and taking way too long! Poor Mark must be exhausted, having to concentrate so hard.

The show on Recharged Radio starts at 7... I get there at 7.10. Everyone is relieved. I am bedraggled, tired, and have the ubiquitous tour cold, thankfully a few days old, and I haven't sung and in fact, don't even know if I CAN sing.

Er .. Jordan is dancing?

Atmospheric live radio session :)

The atmosphere at Rock of London (or Church of Steve Honest as we call it) is amazing, the show goes fine, after a few technical hitches (it's the first live Forum show on Recharged Radio), my voice holds up and after a welcome post-show wine I realise just HOW tired I am.

Back home. It's a goooooooood sleep.

--------------------------------

Just have to point out that the day after is a day off at home. Dave is staying at Pete's and though he is not well, they both hate days off at home as much as I do, and we text each other just constantly moaning how bored we are. They compensate by drinking. I have lots of stuff to do, but would much rather still be on tour. You end up in a little cocoon on tour and to have a break that is at home snaps you back into reality, which is a shock you would rather not have. (You know ,washing, ironing, the washing up, bills ... etc)

Roll on tomorrow, where I give up the mantle of merch lady and become 50ft Woman :)

The Union Tour - 30/09/10 York Fibbers

I wake up really fancying an MnS vegetable samosa ... only to remember I donated it to the Hungry Lathan fund. Bugger.

Everyone is a bit bleary eyed at the lack of sleep - which annoyingly is not from rock 'n' roll shenanigans, but from gay bar outpourings. I seem to remember it was a pretty quiet  journey, no films and a lot of sleep. I actually have a very funny picture of Pete and his 'I need sleep' method, but I think I would get into trouble, so I won't post it. :)

We do the journey in mega quick time, only to get completely stuck when the satnav directs us down a dead end when we hit York. We try again and the same thing happens, though we do get a nice if albeit quick view of York Minster. We all reach for our phones and turn on the maps. Luke, Chris, Mark and my phone all say we are somewhere completely different. Hmmm. Much discussion ensues. I then remember I actually have GPS built into my Android phone (as opposed to everyone else's iPhone). Suddenly I can actually see us moving down the road on the map on my phone ... and going in completely the wrong direction.

It takes a bit of convincing for Mark and Luke to trust both me and my phone, but then Luke sees that the dot on my phone is actually moving, so it must be true :) It's a bit of a funny way to get to Fibbers as it's all one way narrow streets. We've gone from being really early to being quite late, but eventually we get there.

Oh joy, it's all on one level! Less joy, when we find out that yet again, there is a freshers week do happening straight after the show again. Sigh.

There is also a limited place to put the merch, and tonight I'm going to be sharing with Ricky Warwick's merchandise guy. There's nowhere to hang my washing line tonight, so I improvise by tying it round the poster frames. It sort of works, if not up to my usual standard. It's at this point I also find out that the lighting is REALLY going to be a problem tonight. The lights in the venue ALL go out. Not only will I not have lights on the T-shirts, but noone will be able to look at the fantastic Deluxe booklet. The promoter says he will try and rustle up some lights.

It's 5 o clock and the promoter comes to say he hasn't been able to get any lights. Ah. Problem. if I EVER needed clip on spotlights, it's now. But as i have come to find, nowhere seems to sell the anymore. Downhearted I venture out anyway, only to find a shop literally down the road from the venue that seem to sell lighting, in fact anything that belongs in the bracket of household. OMG I spot clip on spotlights! Yay. A man stands in my way. He is not holding the door open. In fact he is shutting it. No. Er .. sorry, we're closed. Oh, not so yay. In fact not yay at all. I actually feel like crying. I try and explain that it is an emergency, if buying clip on spotlights can ever BE and emergency. He is not budging. I try fluttering my eyelashes. "Sorry" he says. And then ... and then .. like a saviour, a man appears behind him and whispers the immortal words "What is it you needed? Come in ...". I think he might even have a halo.

He leads me through the shop, lights all out, until we reach the lighting department. And WHAT a lighting department it is. I scoff at the measly clip on spotlights I first spotted in the window and point excitedly at the directional ones I have spotted. Clip on AND bendy! I also get a couple of adjustable desk lamps so that we can highlight the deluxe booklet. My life is almost complete. I waffle excitedly on about the gig and The Union and the merchandise stand and thank him about a zillion times.

My saviour was Paul at Barnitts - and I have to point out they sell pretty much everything. Including a RANGE of clip on spotlights! And quite probably halos too.

On return to the gig I unpack with glee. I think Ricky's merch guy thinks I'm a bit crazy. (thankfully Ricky doesn't treat me as such. Our paths have crossed a few times over the years, though we have never spoken, which we both agree is a bit weird.) I disappear and get changed, suddenly coming back in with red lipstick and a my 'night time' work outfit. He's very laid back whereas I am fussing around with spotlights and tables and washing lines and bits of card with prices on. I don't care, he's benefiting from the lights anyway. And a good job too, as the doors open, the lights do indeed, go out.

Let there be light ... and there was light

It would have been IMPOSSIBLE. It's very, very dark. Strangely though, there don't appear to be any moving lights on stage. It's a bluey white wash that is static, all the way through Ricky's set, and then all the way through the boys' set too. Very weird.

The set is great tonight. However, I am distracted by a woman who decides to dance the whole way through the set. And by dance, I mean properly dance. A mixture of what looks like half ballroom, half break-dancing and body popping. Even in the quieter numbers. It's quite disconcerting seeing someone moonwalk to Saviour. Still, she seems to be having a thoroughly good time, so good for her!

And then, while the band are attempting to have an aftershow in the back bar, the place then fills up with students. At least I have light to count T-shirts! Trying to manoeuvre boxes out through the dancing excitable freshers is a bit tricky though and I have to do a bit of moonwalking myself to get round them. It's a very rushed get out. So much so that we find out we have TEN minutes to clear the venue before they shut the door! And that includes the band too! And surprise surprise, it's raining again. Where's Supertramp when you need 'em?

Back at the hotel we find that there IS a bar - YAY. And the bar/nightman is cool with us drinking our own beer/wine. Double YAY.

Poor Mark has investigated the parking around the hotel, of which there appears to be NONE. I investigate on my now esteemed GPS Android phone. However, the van is too high for an NCP. It's amazing, when you have had a couple of beers, how brave you get. I flag down a local cab at the traffic lights and ask him where we can park a van. He mumbles something about Tesco at the top of the hill and off Mark goes to try and find it. He is advised to get a cab back. How far IS this Tesco?

About an hour later he turns up, saying he couldn't find any Tesco and has parked it in a residential area about a mile away. poor thing. I don't have any more bubble bath or samosas to give him. :)

Dave is starting to feel a bit rubbish and when he goes out for a fag, I go out with him. Only to realise that we are standing in what appears to be a carpark. A hotel carpark? Oh dear. Nice of the receptionist to tell Mark.

At least we had the foresight to get more of the beers out of the van this time, so we don't run out.

Dave is going down by the minute and heads off to bed. Pete, who he is sharing with, regrets this later when he find that his room key doesn't work, and of course Dave will then be asleep. The surly receptionist is then called upon to provide a replacement key and Pete manages to finally get in his room.

It's still raining.

The Union Tour - 29/09/10 Glasgow Cathouse

And so, after the 'Scottish Water incident', we are safely away and on our way to Glasgow. Apparently it's not far, though it does appear to be across country, but that could just be the satnav.

And just as we thought the get -ins couldn't get any worse, we reach The Cathouse. It's like doing a gig in one of the pyramids - the stairs go on for ever and ever. We are spoilt today though, as we have 2 road crew helping us out. They have muscles of steel and accents you could cut fried cheese on. They are cool. Within 20 minutes, all the gear is up the stairs and loaded in. OK, there is another flight to go, but that, too, is done in record time.

I said fried cheese, in honour of Glasgow as Dave has promised to take Pete and me to the Blue Lagoon to sample fried Mars bars (though Pete is insisting he wants a Lion Bar, just to be different. Typical singer.), the local delicacy. I am so excited by this. After my diet of petrol station sandwiches I need something with more er ... grunt. Mind you, this morning we were spoiled, with an MnS shop in the petrol station. I immediately went a bit crazy stocking up on 'my secret emergency stash' and have goodies galore. A battered Mars Bar would just be the piéce de resistance at this point!

Dave is very quiet this morning. He's quite quiet most mornings, but really obviously so today. It's his home gig, and all his family and friends are coming, so he is very nervous and very pale. What's particularly nice is that there is a massive drum riser on stage, so everyone will be able to see him, which is great, as he is one of the most watchable drummers I have seen in a long time. He doesn't just 'play drums', he actually performs. His folks are in for a treat tonight!

I have already sussed out my best vantage point - it's right at the back but it's raised up, so once again I can stand and watch the band AND keep an eye on the merchandise. Only problem is, the stand is in the back bar, well away from the band AND the audience AND the bar will be closed. Dave suggests making some signs to tell people where the merch is.

I do this, and put little comments like 'come and say hello'.

After doors opening, it actually works. I really do have people popping round to say hello, and it's nice to see some faces from other gigs too. It's a really good crowd and people already seem to have the same loyalty to The Union as they did to Thunder, which is good to see (and something most bands can only dream of.).

At one point when the support band are on, and have just finished a number, I hear a noise. Someone is screaming. Very loudly. And for a very long time. A couple who are at the merch stand look at me.

I then realise what the noise is. It's Pete warming up, and as the dressing room is only the other side of the bar, it's really loud! My god, that man has some lungs. He yells up and down for a good ten minutes. If I warmed up like that before a gig I wouldn't even make the first song! The couple look very impressed. I am too, and a bit jealous. I've always wanted that gravel in my voice for years and Pete sounds like he has been gargling bulk bags of aggregate for about 40 years, which, quite obviously, is impossible.

Dave emerges from the dressing room, looking like a ghost. He looks at the crowd, comes over to say a brief hello and then disappears again. Poor poppet.

The gig, well, is awesome. It's pretty much the Dave McCluskey show. He must either have LOTS of friends, LOTS of family, or just the whole of Glasgow loves him. At one point I even well up. ('Get te fock' Dave would say, I can hear him now :) )

Rubbish photo, but great view!

It's only after the gig has finished, and the Dave fan club has got all their photos, autographs, kisses and cuddles (the latter from his family, obviously), and the gear has been taken down the stair mountain (in even more record time than before from the Glaswegian Speedy McGonzales crew, who must live on Ir'n Bru) that I remember the bloody Mars Bar. Hrumph.

Back at the hotel, once again there is no bar, but they have a staircase in a turret, so I forgive them. Fiona and I are on the ground floor, but the room is nice, modern and quite funky. They had warned us that there might be noise from the bar round the corner. On the way back in the van we scoff about this - we are rock 'n' roll - they'll be well closed by the time we go to bed!

Luke draws the short straw for bedroom 'bar duty', and it's a snug fit, as two of Dave's band mates join us. There has been a mix-up with the rooms and Mark, Chris, Pete AND Dave are sharing a dorm-style bedroom, so I think us all trooping into Luke's room is a punishment thing. He must be a bit tired as he announces that there is a curfew on tonight, to which we all agree and then ignore!

Mark comes in from parking the van and announces he is hungry. Now after yesterday's bubble bath snub, I'm not so pissed, mellow and generous AND my stash just happens to be an MnS vegetable samosa, one of my favourite snacks.

My maternal instinct gets the better of me, and off I troop down the turret staircase to get said snack. on the way back Dave and Craig (from White Ace, now River 68s) are coming back from having a fag, and Dave spots the samosa and announces he is starving. Now I feel bad. I only have one.

I suggest that Mark share it and they have half each. I don't think Mark hears this and he proceeds to scoff the samosa. Dave watches him, like a hungry puppy, his eyes following the samosa - every bite!

Luke's curfew comes and goes, and we have drunk all the rider beer and wine. There is more on the van but noone can be bothered to trek and fetch it. So Luke ends up getting his way anyway! Or so he thinks ...

The gay bar around the corner doesn't close until stupid o'clock. And even then, the punters obviously love it so much they don't want to leave. Fiona and I listen to their conversations as they stand right outside our window. Snippets of 'but he doesn't love me', ' I know what I would say to him', ' really, you told him that'. It's like listening to a gay radio soap opera, except the reception isn't too good, so you only hear bits of it.

So much for the early night. And it's a long drive to York tomorrow. Maybe that should be Yawnk.

The Union Tour - 28/09/10 Edinburgh Cabaret Voltaire - Part 1

I like Edinburgh. It made an impression on me the first time I ever went, on one the Thunder tours. It's an imposing city, with big stone buildings and inclines.

On a smaller scale, the load-in for the Cabaret Voltaire is the same. Apparently it is the largest door step in Edinburgh. We know this because as the door is opened for us to do the load-in, a strange wench appears with about 10 people in tow and leads people up over the step, pronounces "this is the largest door step in Edinburgh" and they all troop off into the venue. No-one says anything. They disappear. And still, no-one says anything. It's weird, but obviously not that weird round these parts. It's only when I see next door is an office for Walking Tours that it becomes clear what just happened. Still, would have been nice if they had at least taken a case or two in with them.

The load in street is so narrow that parking adjacent to the venue is impossible, and even with Mark's clever angling, cars trying to pass start to panic and get it all wrong (wouldn't last five minutes in London - get a bus through there, love), and so we have to reverse it a way up the street and carry everything down the road a short distance, and over the GIANT doorstep.

The Cabaret Voltaire is a cool place, all brick vaulted ceilings and low lighting. It is tiny. And er .. the stage is tiny. Even with the extensions that the crew put up around the stage, it is still tiny. This is going to be a cosy one.

Marvellously, the merch stand proffered is the best seat in the house, slap bang behind the sound desk, raised up with a stonking view of the stage. Not so marvellously, yet again there is going to be a club night straight afterwards. I see the size of the sound system waiting to be BUILT after the show. It's gonna be LOUD. My ears are going to be broken. I will have to count T-shirts mega quick and just get out afterwards.

And talking of broken, the boxes for the T-shirts are looking pretty shabby already. We have already had a near disaster with the boxes of CD's and I have taken to only bringing in the essential boxes so they don't wear out too quickly! The decision is taken to decant everything into some plastic boxes, which annoyingly, I chose not to buy yesterday on my shopping trip. (ooh - maybe Edinburgh sells clip on spotlights!)

I head off to the shopping centre a mile away, only to get a phone call from Luke telling me there is a Poundstretcher literally round the corner from the venue. Grrr. But yay, they have boxes galore. And no spotlights. I disappointedly buy pegs for my new merchandise washing line to compensate.

T-shirts and CDs safely ensconced in new storage, which I also fashion into tables, this time, I remember to eat. OK, more sandwiches, but I'm so used to them now, it just seems the done thing.

The venue fills up quite quickly, thankfully, for first band on, The Amorettes, who have to be mentioned because they were excellent. They are a 3-piece all-girl band who sound like The Runaways meets early Motley Crue. They go down really well and soon sell out of the measly 6 CD's they bring with them. Me and Dave take a shine to Hannah, the drummer, but sadly the girls have to run off and catch their train so miss out on post-gig beers.

The boys as usual are excellent, and having such a fantastic view, it's a shame I don't have a better camera. Annoyingly, as with most of the venues on this tour, there is no phone signal, so I can't even tweet pics.

And as usual, it's raining for the get out. Sigh. and it might as well be thundering as the sound coming from the sound system is actually ear-splitting. It's mental at the club night, so I abandon counting and make a run for it.

The hotel is once again a Travelodge, in what appears to have once been a big old townhouse. In fact it is so cleverly disguised that we drive past it a few times before we notice a tiny Travelodge sign. The bar is also so cleverly disguised that it doesn't exist, and we end up in Mark and Chris's room which appears to be the size of a small playing field.

As we shout at each other from across the room, Mark announces that he wants a bath, only to find that there is no plug. Now Mark and I are the people that forget to eat. I feel like we are a team - the team that 'stay at the venue while the band go out gallivanting with VIPs'. I feel generous. I also feel a bit pissed and mellow, so volunteer to see if I can 'borrow' ours. Trekking down 2 flights of stairs, the bath plug proves to be a cinch and feeling quite chuffed I make it back upstairs and install it in the bath. Voila!

Mark then asks if anyone has any bubble bath. Er .... I do. Er ... downstairs. Sigh. I feel generous. I also feel a bit pissed and mellow. So down I go again to fetch the hotel sample I nicked from a South of France hotel. Posh stuff. That smells nice. That I was saving.

I feel generous. I also feel a bit pissed and mellow. So not only have I done a bit of bath plug DIY, and donated my albeit free, but coveted bath stuff, but I also RUN THE BATH. I have no idea what I was thinking, but I even went so far as to make sure there were bubbles.

Mark has a bath while we all carry on drinking.

Mark emerges from the bathroom.

And promptly complains that the bubble bath wasn't bubbly enough. (though agreed that it smelled nice) There's gratitude for you! :)

We are not done with Edinburgh yet, but that's for tomorrow ...

The Union Tour - 28/09/10 Edinburgh Cabaret Voltaire Part 2

It's not really much of a part 2, but it does need to be said. It's a late checkout thankfully, as like most nights, I don't get to bed before 3am. (It takes time to wind down after a gig, you know. Yes, I know it wasn't technically MY gig, but that's not the point!)

We are leaving the hotel at 12, and I was a bit tardy with the getting up business (I'm not drinking red wine again, I've decided) so clothes are everywhere while I pack, straighten my hair, all the usual things.

As is usual in these big townhouses, the radiators gurgle as they come on. I particularly like the fact that they are coming on in the morning, a long time after most people have got up, when it was pretty cold last night, and this is a hotel. Still, on they come.

And then ... there is another noise.

Is that a fizzing noise? What IS that?

More gurgling.

And then ... another fizzing noise.

I investigate.

"Er ... Fiona, we appear to have sprung a leak."

Oh yes, and not just one leak, but two. From the top two valves of the radiator are 2 steady, if tiny, streams of water. The carpet is already soaked, as obviously it took time for us to notice the leak. I am not dressed, so run around grabbing clothes while Fiona grabs her water bottle and tries to catch the leak. Thenkfull the water isn't really hot, but warm, and the leak has obviously happened as the radiators started to warm up. The water bottle is already filling alarmingly and the opening is too small to catch both streams of water, as they go in opposite directions.

I grab the kettle. Success. Fiona manoeuvres the kettle to catch both streams expertly in the kettle spout.

I finish getting dressed, and make to go downstairs to find someone. I think I can hear one of the maids outside, fantastic.

Just as I am about to go in search of said maid, Fiona informs me that the kettle is filling up. Some clever swappage of kettle to bottle takes place, so that I can then empty the kettle, then swap it back and THEN go and find the maid.

The maid, quite rightly panics, albeit in a sort of calm Eastern European way. She gives us a small bucket to catch the leak while she goes to find a solution. Fantastic, this will be much easier. Er ...

Fiona informs me that the bucket itself has now sprung a leak. This is just too much and after quickly swapping the kettle back, Fiona and I are unable to talk, for laughing. I then decide to film this escapade as it is just one of those things I will wish I had done, if I don't.

The maid returns with a radiator key and swiftly locks both valves. Fiona and I are still unable to really speak, as we explain to the maid about her cracked bucket. She apologises profusely, and I think looks at us suspiciously as we are still giggling.

I'm still giggling now.

And we STILL made the 12 o'clock set off!

============================
A little extra, 'specially for a wee Scottish laddie ...

The Union Tour - 27/09/10 Manchester Ruby Lounge

It's not a long drive from Sheffield to Manchester, not long at all in fact. But it's long enough for us to watch the alternative ending to Paranormal Activity. You would think, after seeing the film the first time, that this would not be a particularly scary thing - surely we know what's coming? Ooooh no. No no no. For some reason, though  original ending is by far the best, the anticipation of this ending, and what might happen is twice as bad. Again, I won't spoil it if you haven't seen it, but it's just as disturbing. I seem to remember we even watched the alternative ending with all the curtains drawn, bunch of wusses that we are!

And so the trip to Manchester Ruby Lounge SHOULD be simple. And it probably would have been if pretty much the whole of Manchester City Centre hadn't turned into a film set. And a MASSIVE film set at that. If anyone knows what was being filmed we would love to know. I think it was some period thing as I spotted a few classic cars - 40s era I think. We know from the satnav WHERE the venue is, but getting there is another matter.

Frazzled, and late, but finally there, we are welcomed with a round of tea and coffees. I could get used to THIS! When I discover that the merch is to be positioned in what appears to be its own lounge area, complete with a squishy leather sofas, a chandelier and statement wallpaper I start mentally moving in. However, putting Union T-shirts on said wallpaper could be quite distracting - plus as it's freshers week we have yet another club starting after the gig. (Hmmm - may need lights). Thankfully, as we are slap bang in the centre of Manchester, it's a short trot across the road to the Arndale Centre.

Now, when I first moved down to London, it seemed every 'house' shop worth its salt sold cheap as chips clip on spotlights. Oh, no now - people must have moved on to LED posh spotlights, or Halogen IKEA jobbies. There is nothing resembling a clip-on spotlight of any size, shape or form to be had ANYWHERE in the Arndale Centre. However, I spot a washing line which just might be the other solution for the T-shirts. This decision proves to be one of the best on the tour, and the washing line proves a hit for pretty much each venue! Much easier than trying to pin T-shirts on walls or gaffa tape them on. This merch lark is an art form I'll have you know!

The merch lounge!

My return to 'my merchandise lounge' is also met by an old acquaintance - Jamie from Mexicolas, who I met when he was in Lucan and supporting Thunder. I just have to point out  - he makes excellent tea. His band, and The Crave who are also supporting tonight are both corking, and it is a fantastic line-up tonight.

Once again I nearly forget to eat  and have to have a hasty 'Union picnic'. This consists of grabbing a sandwich while the band are on, under the impression that everyone will be watching the band instead of me. I can't see the band from where I am, in my comfy snug lounge. You can't have everything I suppose. I then amuse myself by drumming along to Dave. I know all the songs now so am quite lost in my drumming and enjoying myself immensely. It's only afterwards that someone says they nearly filmed me (a sure fire YouTube classic, god forbid) that I realise I am not actually invisible. I sit on my hands from now on!

After the gig we are all a bit jaded, not helped by the firmly shut hotel bar on our return. It's not the nicest of hotels, so we all agree on *gasp* an early night, as we have a long drive tomorrow to Edinburgh.

It's also at this point I start feeling a bit rough. Oh-oh, not a tour cold .. no please. I know it's coming, as I don't even want a last cup of tea. Definitely ill. This is not good. I have some singing coming up .... :(

The Union Tour - 26/09/10 Sheffield O2 Academy

Thankfully there is no hangover. There are also no petrol station sandwiches, as it's only a short drive to the gig. Of course, stupidly, this means I forget to eat again. Which is a bit stupid seeing as the get in for the Academy is laughable and a bit like the Krypton Factor Assault Course. It's one of those, up a ramp, 2 steps, a short walk, another couple of steps, another bit of concrete, up some steps into the venue and ... stick to the carpet. I've been in some clubs and pubs, but this is THE stickiest carpet (puts on Jeremy Clarkson voice) ... in the world.

It's also one of the weirdest trips to the dressing room - like something out of Spinal Tap - or some low budget horror film. The guys get moved to the larger dressing rooms in the venue downstairs, which strangely you can see from the Academy 2. Don't know why it's weird, but it just is, particularly since The Union just seem like they are squeezed onto stages the size of the Academy 2 - and should naturally be playing stages the size of the Academy, if not larger ...

The merch stand is in the venue this time, so I have lovely view of the stage, (and get to take my first pictures, and tweet my first tweets during the sho.) however it is at this point I realise I am way too much of a perfectionist and spend WAY too long finding ways to make the merch look pretty. Thankfully, lovely Sue Moffat, wife of Marty, the camera genius brings new printed prices to jazz up the display. Marvellous. And, because I am a total nerd, I take yet another picture of the stand. Why, I have no idea, it doesn't look super duper but it makes me happy! (doesn't take a lot!)

Nerdsville, Sheffield - note snazzy new signs a lá Moffat!

Outside the gig are two massive tour buses, who appear to be just waiting. With the amount of gear they must have, I have some smugness when our get out is done. Yeah, it's a bitch, but it's a relatively small gear load. Plus the procurement of what looks a bit like a bread trolley really helps with all the amps and cabs, once we have unstuck ourselves from the carpet.

We also say goodbye to the lovely Whybirds who have supported for the last 3 gigs.

"Saviour"

In the van on the way back, we decide that the alternative ending of Paranormal Activity needs to be watched tomorrow. More on that later ...

Thankfully, the hotel does have a bar and it opens for us .... *the rest of this blog has been removed due to the over 2 glasses of wine limit* :D

The Union Tour - Sheffield Day off

There is no Leicester; for those of you who don't know, I'm in a band called 50ft Woman, and had to play a gig at the London Tattoo Convention on the Friday. It was fun, but strangely well behaved and not very rock n' roll considering it was at a Tattoo Convention.

Welcome to Sheffield

Luke suggested I come straight back to join everyone in Sheffield on the day off, as the plan is to go out for dinner. So, of course, I do! Sheffield has to have one of the best exits (or entrances to the city) from a train station ever. A fantastic silver ribbon of a waterfall, which I found quite mesmerising! A view that I should have made the most of, as on arrival at the hotel, this was what I was greeted with. Fiona had said the hotel was at the stadium. What I hadn't realised was quite HOW close :) Mind you, I'm not complaining - this is luxury and we have two nights of it!

Wonderful view!

Dinner is at the El Paso, a fantastic curiosity of a restaurant that proclaims itself to be Mexican/Italian. I celebrate it's schizophrenic nature by having Funghi Ripieni for starter with Fajitas for main course. All washed down by wine, which silly me, forgot to check where it was from (probably New Zealand!). Food and service is excellent.

Chris is delighted to find Desperado beer, and a photo is duly taken and uploaded to the Ultimate Eagles Facebook site. Desperado beer is another strange one, beer with tequila - yes, tequila laced beer. We drink the El Paso dry of Desperado. I don't remember much after that ... :)

And a good time was had by all ... 

The Union Tour - 23/09/10 Northampton Roadmender

It’s raining, it’s cold but we are on our way to Northampton. Luke and Mark are in the front, and me, Chris, Dave, Pete and Fiona are in the back. We decide to watch a film. A film that will pretty much set the course for the whole rest of the tour. Luke insists we watch it. The film is: Paranormal Activity.

I don’t really do horror films. But onwards we go, pulling closed the curtains and making a makeshift cover for the stupid skylight that means you can’t see anything on the flipdown plasma screen. As Pete and I discover, this actually doesn’t help, and we spend most of the film either leaning backwards at a funny angle, or, in the dark bits, leaning so far forward we look like dogs looking under a garden gate. Needless to say, we got cricks in our necks, but the stomach muscles got a good workout.

For those of you who have never seen Paranormal Activity, I won’t spoil it. BUT, it IS disturbing. We do indeed end up screaming at bits (part of the fun), AND talking about it afterwards, A LOT.

It’s on this journey that the scene is set for the tour diet, which you may have already read about on The Union blog, particularly Pete’s guide to tour food. As a sort of veggie, choice in petrol stations is even less than a normal eater. At this point, I also hadn’t realised that once I get to the venue and get set up, the chances of slipping off to eat something properly are practically nil. Mark and I, staying in the venue while the band go off to eat and entertain VIP guests, have to remind each other to actually eat. Usually the choice we have is ... more sandwiches from the dressing room. I also then take to buying a stash of stuff in the morning for later .. but more of that later too :)

Roadmender is a cool venue, with a bar area paved with flagstones. Unfortunately the merch stand gets moved away from the ‘flow of traffic’, due to a club starting immediately afterwards. One of the guys there is a lifesaver and lends me a proper merchandise board, so my life is easy, or so I think.

The first stand!

I’m sad I can’t see the band, after all it will be my first full -length set. But I work out if I stand at an angle where I can see the merch stand AND just see through the venue doors, I can see the stage. Marvellous. This technique proves very useful at a few of the venues on the tour, and is then one of the first points of reference I seek out on arrival! Where’s the merch .. where’s the viewing point? :)

The venue told me that a club was starting soon after the band finish. What I hadn’t banked on was the area I was in being plunged into darkness IMMEDIATELY the band finish, and dance music blaring out of the speakers directly to my left. Hmmm. I hadn’t banked on that. I also hadn’t banked on having to count about 200 T-shirts in the pitch black.

It’s also at this point that I find out how truly lovely the band are (not trying to ruin their rock n roll cred, but it IS true) - Pete comes over and asks if I’m OK, then fetches me a drink, and Dave comes over to check too.

Surrounded by leggy young lovelies dancing (one turns to me mid-dance and asks ‘what is all this?’. I explain that it’s the merchandise from the band that just plays. Without missing a beat she says ‘oh’ and immediately turns and continues her dancing.) I manage to get all the merchandise out. Quelle surprise, it’s raining again.

We then discover the joys of the Travelodge. With no bar. Enough said.

It’s ALSO at this point that Fiona and I discover there is only one bed. And a small double at that. Thankfully we have been friends for many a year and shared numerous hotel rooms together, so we just make do. It’s only the next day we find out that the sofa in the room is ‘the other bed’. Sigh.

Spot the spelling mistake!

The Union Tour - 22/09/10 Gibson Theatre

I ’ve included this as it seems like a good start! Giving out water and beer to competition winners and finally getting to see The Union (shame on me for not doing it before), what could be better? Well, giving out drinks may seem a simple thing to do, however, due to my OCD, each water bottle proffered and accepted had to be replaced immediately so as not to upset the pyramid effect carefully sculpted upon the table. And giving away free beer is not as easy as it sounds – most times it was met with slight suspicion at the word ‘free’ :)

I have never had hand-freeze before. Filling a dustbin with ice and then Fosters is great, but not when you are trying to keep a steady supply of ‘coldies’. Fingernails were long forgotten as I dug deeper and deeper to ensure a rotation system would occur. And after the ice all melted in what was, really quite a toasty room, the hand freeze at delving in for the last few cans was actually an experience I don’t really want to repeat! God knows how the Swedes go from Sauna to ice lake. Intense and immediate shrivelling MUST occur, surely?

I was impressed with the boys (they became ‘the boys’ the minute I agreed to go on tour with them. It’s a thing that happens, just like I have ‘my boys’ ie: the guys in 50ft Woman, and ‘the boys’ from The Union). I’m not surprised I was impressed, in fact I was ashamed I hadn’t bullied Luke before to go to the earlier gigs. Having met Pete a couple of times previously, Chris (through Thunder obviously) and Mark (tour manager, also through Thunder) it was a lot of hellos, plus a new hello to Dave, the new drummer.

It was a this point I realised that I would not be able to stand and watch the load out, without helping, something which then became a regular thing. I also recommend it for on-tour fitness. Trying to help to take out the gear when it is well and truly pissing down outside makes for a rather brisk 20-minute work out. More explanations of the Lynne/Minki workout strategy to come.

(at this point I feel I should explain the Lynne/Minki thing. No, I’m not schizo, well only on Tuesdays and Thursdays – but the boys know me as Lynne, from the days working with Thunder, whereas ‘my boys’ know me as Minki, as that’s my pseudonym with 50ft Woman. As I was technically both on tour I did feel like I was wearing 2 hats at once, but as this is primarily about The Union, I shall remain Lynne :) )

Once Upon a Time ... Minki looked for her Prince Charming

When you are little and you have a hero, really, it’s all about the fantasy; the idea of them. Inspiration can seep in and sow the seed, but you probably aren’t aware fully of how they tick.

I remember distinctly the first time I ever heard an Adam and the Ants song. Walking into the church hall for a ‘disco’, on my own, a bit nervous and hearing this beat, those drums and seeing the eldest daughter of the local policeman dancing some strange dance, with scarves tied around her legs and arms. I didn’t particularly like her, but suddenly she was the coolest thing I had ever seen, and I HAD to find out what that music was.

To then find out that the guy whose song it was dressed as a highwayman/pirate/native American was more than the icing on the cake, it was the marzipan, all the silver balls, the edible roses, the cake stand and even the fucking table.

As my first ever crush was Zorro, this was a kid’s dream come true. Being a bit young for anything to be remotely sexual, when you are that age, it is more like Prince Charming is whisking you off on his white charger. And here is someone who is real, walking, talking, living, breathing and singing. And absolutely heart stoppingly gorgeous.

And so the love affair began. I bought every single thing I could get my hands on that had anything to do with Adam Ant; posters, magazines, badges, singles, limited edition singles, fan club memorabilia. I would have the piss unutterably ripped out of me for walking into the disco with full on warpaint, painstakingly recreated by my Mum, smug in the knowledge that it was REAL greasepaint like Adam would wear, not just some eyeshadow your Mum found in the local chemist for 20p.

Yeah OK, I missed out on the whole punk thing; the Dirk Wears White Sox era.  I was a bit young to understand it, and the whole rubber fetish thing seemed a bit dark and spooky then (ironic thinking about THAT now!). I remember reading an article about Adam at the time, saying he used to live in a room painted all black with just a mattress on the floor. I did toy with the idea that this ‘was cool’ but then apart from the fact it would have been a resounding ‘no’ from my parents, I think deep down I didn’t really ‘get’ that whole fetish thing (aha obviously the seeds were sewn, they just hadn’t blossomed yet!).

When Adam became Prince Charming, for all his recent proclaiming that it was ‘ the poofy stuff’, there was just nothing like it. People always tried to lump him in with the whole new Romantic movement but it never was. The music was nothing like anything else, and still isn’t. Adam Ant wasn’t even ahead of his time as there has still never been anything like him since!

And so following his exploits over the years, and seeing this beautiful man turn into a balding, bloated, troubled soul was a bit of an eyeopener. As a ‘grown up’ you are a lot more aware of the person behind such genius, and it’s a bit sad when you realise the person who you pretty much thought was your own personal ‘god’ is in fact a bi-polar, fragile human being, with problems and troubles like us all.

Hearing over the last year that there was talk of his come-back, of his getting fit, getting in the studio, of his mental recovery, I was torn. Truly torn. Would this be one of those terrible mistakes where you finally get to meet your hero only to find out he is a total arsehole, or collects Ugg boots or something similarly repulsive? Would the bubble be burst for ever? I mean, here is a man that, really, is responsible for the my inspiration in music. Ok, I was always musical because of my parents, but the showman, the performance, the vocal percussion, all of that came from Adam Ant. No-one wants to realise that something wasn’t quite as it seems when it had such an impact on their younger years.

And so the day I heard that Adam Ant was going to be playing at the Scala – his first proper gig in 15 years – was quite eventful. But there was no real decision to be made. I had to go, it was a simple as that.

I did refrain from dressing up like any sort of pirate or highwayman or indeed wearing a greasepaint Geronimo stripe, but I have to tell you, that in itself felt a bit strange. The last time I went to see Adam Ant was with my Mum, it was to the Prince Charming Revue, I was very little and I cried all the way home on the train from Leeds, as I didn’t want it to end. This time I was a bit nervous as previous guerrilla gigs had been reported as a bit chaotic and there had been a couple of no-shows when Adam was meant to be appearing with the Glitter Band. Would he turn up? As with those situations when it all seems too much for it to actually happen, I had a nagging feeling it wouldn’t happen.

But.

It.

Did.

There are many reports and videos and photos on the web of the gig itself, so I won’t even go into the set list and the band. I don’t need to. I honestly don’t; because the main thing of the whole night was me and Adam Ant, reunited.

I saw the true chaotic, brilliant, beautiful, genius – the man behind the highwayman mask that I had my first childish obsession with. I saw the punk Adam, the angry passionate Adam – still beautiful, even at 55. Before he even stepped onstage he wandered through the crowd and at one point headed straight in my direction. I can truly say I don’t think I have ever been rooted to the spot like that, heart pounding, desperately trying to think of something to say, though no words would probably have come out of my mouth anyway. What is there to say?

That a man who adorned my bedroom wall all those years ago could walk past me and that I could feel the same excitement and feel in person the charisma that jumped off the posters was really quite special. Yes, he has had his troubles, and even now his ranting and raving and unpredictability onstage do make you question whether he is truly in a stable mental state. As he said to the heckler when he bravely and some would say, foolishly, tried to read from Lemmy’s autobiography at the end of his musical set, ‘It’s my fucking show”. He could have done the ‘Here and Now’ tour, as he said, and made shit loads of money but he chose to do it his way (Sid Vicious cover of Frank Sinatra cover anyone?). I know people have questioned whether he was and is in a fit state to come back. But he is a free spirit, albeit with a difficult mental state to control. In this world, what is normal?

So many people of genius and artistic temperament are like him. They may not go waving guns outside Camden pubs, but they all suffer from the ups and downs of art, the black moods, the insecurities, the pretence of arrogance to get through the shit of the industry that tries to pigeonhole us musicians into convenient boxes, the elation after a gig, writing a new song that we think is brilliant, scribbling down a killer line at three in the morning that comes to us in a dream – we all go through it, just some more publicly and sadly than others.

Adam was an inspiration to me then, and he remains an inspiration to me now. There would be no 50ft Woman without Adam Ant.

And yes, I cried all the way home.

LINKS:

Ant Lib online account of the Scala 

Video of the Scala gig

Interview with Adam from The Quietus (one of the finest pieces of journalism ever): 

See how the inspiration manifested itself: 50ft Woman

Golden moblies ...

People of a certain age should not be allowed to have mobiles. not unless they have gone through an intensive training course in taking off keypad tones, changing ringtones and the etiquette of public transport i.e if you are on a train, chances are the phone is RIGHT NEXT TO YOU, therefore you do not need the ringtone on SUPERSONIC loud. If, by chance, it does ring, perhaps it would be nicer if you didn't spend five minutes deciding whether to answer it or not, while it is making my ears bleed.