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 ...
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