Throwing enough pairs of clean socks, underpants and standard roadie issue T shirts into my suitcase I head out once more, stopping only briefly to write a message for my flatmates to water my plants PLEASE!!! The long awaited tour is suddenly upon us and just like the many times before, I head on down to Kings Cross to rendezvous with the rest of the London crew. No sign of the bus yet so Abbiss and I go to the pub, well it would be rude not to wouldn’t it? It’s a bizarre place with an authentic 17th Century feel to it except for the 20th Century Pizza Hut installed in one corner. So it goes, that with Pizza juice still dribbling down our chins, we wheel our baggage and ourselves back along York Way into the heart of the city where the all new Love Bus is waiting for us patiently. Suddenly a dozen pure white Doves fly by and we hear a choir of angels start to sing, their heavenly voices beautifully out of place in the rush hour traffic. It’s Happy Happy Joy Joy and he’s smiling, and happy, and everyone agrees this must be some sort of miracle indeed. HHJJ’s not the only happy person in London today because when we walk into the off licence to get some bus supplies for our journey Gary is instantly recognised by the shop keeper, who remembering our many previous visits, anticipates a large profit, and rightly so too!
HHJJ still in fine mood shows off his new WAP phone and a great site called www.curry.com, except it can’t be that good because it hasn’t got my local curry house on it, so there! However, all agree that it is a wonderful thing and Danny not to be outdone shows us his new Mobile Phone with built in computer and internet, except it’s not working because he forgot his password, therefore, we are not impressed, and go back to searching for curry houses around the UK to visit on our days off. Gary who is on fine form keeps us amused with many funny tales along the way, mostly ones that cannot be repeated. So, before you can sing “Why do birds suddenly appear, everytime you are near”, we are arrive in Leeds and are reunited with the Yorkshire Massive and discover our ever caring TM, has phoned ahead and ordered 10 Chicken Tikka Masalas for us supper, what a lovely bloke he is. Because we are in Leeds it has started to rain whilst we load up the backline and because everyone is so happy and full of the joys of October, we all sing that well known Travis song “Why does it always rain in Leeds?” and smile lovingly at each other.
Des is also very happy and smiley and for similar reasons to HHJJ but doesn’t keep disappearing for hours whilst talking on his new mobile phone like HHJJ does. It has also been observed that when a certain person phones HHJJ he immediately becomes even happier than he currently is and acquires a little glint in his eye too, which is a nice thing to behold and no mistake. It is around this time when HHJJ announces to a stunned audience that he is going outside to fart.......... his transformation is complete!
Lots of things to laugh about as the all new Love Bus drives over to the wrong side of the Pennines on its way to Holyhead and the ferry to Dublin. We laugh at Mr Beaver (real name) who’s stylish photo has been reproduced on the tour laminates. We laugh at Gordon whose equally stylish photo has been featured on the tour itinerary and we laugh at Mike Best’s new blond hair, which is not actually funny, and looks very nice, but we laugh at him anyway!
Well, that should have been about it when this tired old roadie hit the sack in the form of my cosy, coffin like, bunk bed. However, nobody told us about the force 5 gale in the Irish sea and those of us who elected to stay snuggled up in our beds had the very strange experience of being tossed around for an hour or so in the pitch blackness imagining a watery death at any moment. Fortunately Old Neptune was looking kindly upon us landlubbers and we arrived safely on Irish soil a little shaken but otherwise unharmed. Those who went topside for the crossing, however, did not fare quite as well, as seasickness was rife and much beer was spilt in the process.
As an epilogue to this diary entry, it seems that our tour bus may be haunted. It is said that anyone who dares to wander the hallways of the downstairs area late at night may happen upon the ghostly figure of a naked drummer speaking in tongues and wobbling about here and there and occasionally falling over. Whether or not you believe in him my friend is up to you, but be warned, it is a foolish man indeed who ignores this tale and on your own head be it if you do. |
