A GOOD DAY FOR DYING
Woke up on the bus on the ferry from the green place. Choking on derv gas, coughed up a couple of lumps of lung. Got up. Yes, we did miss the ferry last night, and now it's up in the air whether we do VH1 in London. I really begrudge putting my boots on again after wearing them from 10 am Saturday to midnight Sunday. Bus starts to move off, rocking and banging and scraping. I set off to the smoke, and after many mobile phone calls it is decided we WILL do VH1. We only have one hour to load in and set up. B*****cks.
Time: 13.09
Just passed Brum bag. Mike Best shows up in the front executive lounge, and is trying to put me off writing. So must stop there to kick ten bells of S**T out of him. Oh, he's gone back to bed. What band that there is on the bus are in the back lounge watching s**t vids we've all seen before. Big Gor's sat next to me writing his diary entry for Saturday, Happy Happy Joy Joy, Beaver and Milky are just chillin' reading Mac World, and the Daily Mirror - both equally dull reading. Gary's sat up front, with Helmet Hertz - the driver. Gor just heard on the radio that Winona Ryder was at the gig yesterday - and we saw her on the ride back from the stage. But Gor said "it's not her - she wouldn't come here without telling me." Gor gutted from Burley.
Bored, bored, bored.
After this weekend I couldn't give a f**k what happens - it'll be reet. This front lounge is small on this bus. Milky just informed me in his posh voice, from over the top of his newspaper - "If you kick me again then you will have kicked me one more time." Doh.
It's at times like these the Guinea pig farm idea seems very appealing. Ten minutes away Mike Best gets out of bed again.
Arrive 3pm.
Steve Soft was only ten minutes out. Loaded in and set up in triple quick time. We're all still knackered.
The band roll into the studio, do what they do a few times, or takes as they say in the TV world. I hate doing TV. Food hasn't featured much - if at all - today. TV know how to look after their own but not the smelly Rock 'n' Roll crew - ie us.
Time 7.55 pm
Just leaving the smoke, in our trusty van, and heading for the Republic of Yorkshire. Gor's driving although half asleep. But look on the bright side - he's also half awake. Stopping for food - me, Beaver and Gor are very HUNGRY. Half an hour later we are full up. Saus, chips, egg (x2), beans, mush, tom, bread, chicken tikka masala, chips, popadoms, chutney, salt, pepper, sauce - brown and red, various popular juice drinks, and big coffee, and chocolate. Thanks Gary, so that's what the float's for. You said fill up the van - so we did in a roundabout way, ta.
I shut the window on the van, but then realise why it was open in the first place - we're all minging like old paraffin lamps due to lack of soap and water. Oh yeah, this van's s**t, but it has a cracking horn, which makes us laugh, when Gor honks it on request. At this point we would laugh at anything. We would laugh at a severed leg. We are now in the Republic of West Yorkshire. It's almost over, drop stuff, last 20 miles, home. After saying bye to Beaver - Cheers mate.
1am Monday. Arrive home.
I'd just like to say after working our arses off this weekend, and being extremely knackered, it would be a perfect world if the band didn't f**k off without saying a word. Like thanks lads for all your hard work. Ah well it's all to cock and such is life. Big up to the rest of the crew - Happy Happy Joy Joy, Gor, Milky, Beaver, Gary and Abyss. See you all Friday - let's do it again.
Des Hill - Drum Tech. |
