Time: 10.00 hours
Location: my bunk, somewhere in Germany.
Overheard voices; something about getting up, unloading trailer, decide to ignore and try to get more sleep. It’s difficult, as the wafer thin curtains which looked very tasteful last night have been cunningly designed to let the sun shine straight through. However, summoning all my will power, I resist the unnatural urge to rise and shine and manage to nod off again until lunchtime. Leap out of bed ready to face all that today can throw at me and head for breakfast, sudden flashback to the ferry in the early hours of this morning, maybe just a sandwich and a coffee then. Fortunately, the lovely German festival caterers have anticipated my change of heart, and provided a deli tray with assorted cheese and ham with some salad and that strange European bread. As the coffee buzz hits home I look around me and begin to wonder where the hell I am and what I’m doing here. Oh yes, the portaloo’s, the unisex showers, it must be a festival........... hang on a minute..... unisex showers? .......... I feel it is my duty to the rest of the crew to investigate as soon as I’ve finished my delicious lunch. Bite into my gourmet Cheese and Ham sandwich creation and Bugger, the button on my shorts pops off narrowly missing someones eye and the possibility of a hefty law suit, mind you, try explaining why my shorts button came to hit you in the eye to the judge and see what sympathy you would get!
Make mental note to start going to the gym on a regular basis, and then, as I nervously approach the shower caravan I see that the door is ajar and from within floats the carefree laughter of females. Pulse racing, I boldly ask if the showers are for everyone if you know what I mean. Oh yes, replies the picture of loveliness whose head appears at the door with an inviting glint in her eye, they’re unisex allright! Faced with this beautifully uninhibited European creature I come over all shy and being British make my excuses and leave hurriedly. After I inform the band and crew, it is later noted that we are the cleanest people in the backstage area that day, even though the hot water runs out several times.
As is customary with festivals there are long periods of inactivity punctuated by sudden bursts of extreme and insane animation whilst all the things you would have to do during the course of a “normal” gig day are condensed into a 15 or 20 minute changeover, during which, if it was any longer, the punters, bless them all, would potentially wander off and find something more interesting to do? Anyway, all of the crew, and especially HHJJ with his 600 things to do thrive on all this and we manage to do our changeover in the allotted time. Nobody else up to now has managed this and as a result the whole festival is running a good half an hour late, hurrah for us, even if no-one from the organisers seems to notice or care.
Gig, very good, blah blah. Crys of “Zu Ga Bed”, which has nothing to do with it being time for bed or anything but means something like “We want more” can be heard as far away as Brussels apparently. The boys, ever obliging, return for an encore as requested and then it’s off to the free backstage bar that has been thoughtfully provided. No Caipirinha’s to be had at the bar but plenty of beer as long as you like Alt Bier, and I do as it happens. “Funf bier bitter and a packet of Paprika chips mate” can be heard repeatedly whilst the band and crew stalk Paul Weller and digital photos of Paul and his new pals abound. HHJJ shows Rick a shot of Mike “I’m your number 1 fan” and Mr Weller, arms around each other and looking very jolly and Rick in a fit of jealous rage erases it, as is easily done, claiming it was an accident, but we know better, don’t we dear diary. All is not lost as PW is informed of the “accident” and poses with Mike once more, albeit a little less enthusiastic this time. It’s around this time that Danny walks straight into a tent post whilst heading for the bar and makes us all laugh, but to his credit he was turning to ask if anyone wanted a beer when he had the collision so fair play.
Several barrels of Diebbels finest later and with The Love Bus well stocked courtesy of the lovely catering ladies it’s time to say goodbye to Haldern. So, Guten Arbend Deutschland, danke schone und auf weidersehen meine kliene freunden!
Hey, I’ve got an idea, lets’ do it all again next weekend! |
