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.
No comments:
Post a Comment