"an over-driven, inadequate public address system..."
Funny how the things you type come back to haunt you.
Oddly I found myself worrying about what I should wear to the gig.
I decided that clothes should be the order of the day.
3 p.m. and Leicester is 170 miles away.
Let's go:
I get out of the car at 8:30 and stumble off to find the gig.
(N.B. I don't stumble from fatigue induced by a long drive, stumbling is what I do.)
(N.B. I don't stumble from fatigue induced by a long drive, stumbling is what I do.)
The venue used to be a cinema and sits next to the covered market.
After having my hand indelibly marked I climb, what must have been at one time, a wonderful mirrored stair-case into the performance area.
It reminds me of a teenager's bedroom.
It's painted black and smells funny.
To be fair, the smell could have been the crowd.
I saw the last frantic out-pourings of the support act and realise P.A. is hopeless.
Nuf' said.
Some roady activity and...
There's Ken!
We're off!
Some highlights:
Hard-boiled eggs. Salt or, no salt?
Mr. Blackwell points at Ken, "He had a load of Plasticine dumped on his door-step this morning."
(Wait for it, wait for it.)
"He doesn't know what to make of it."
"You don't get this at Guided By Voices."
During a conversation with an audience member about train-spotting Mr. Blackwell hears the line "he does it so I don't have to" and decides that it belongs to him now.
The bit when, as one man, the mosh-pit fell over.
"Don't say the light show's excellent".
I didn't memorise the set list, though several people will have done (train-spotters again), but it should be available here by now:
On to the encore (or, at least, the last song of the encore):
(I've uploaded 'Them's the Vagaries" here).
I could say something half-arsed like "it was a great gig" but (fact) I've never been to a bad Half Man Half Biscuit gig because this band are master craftsmen.
On the way out I have a quick scout about for the stall that Gary Lineker's parents ran.
I didn't find it, but it's in here somewhere:
Now all I have to do is drive home.
Manly Post script:
On showing Linda the pictures and videos I'd taken she asked me about the Cardboard Reality Intervention in Market Harborough.
"That's where that Wartime Housewife's from isn't it?" she asked.
"Yes" I replied, "I thought it was to good an opportunity to miss".
"Jesus!" said Linda, "That probably freaked her out".
"Hmmm... hadn't thought of that" I said.
4 comments:
OK, taste is a personal matter: perhaps a bit like B.O.
Please assure me that you did not pay REAL money for this?
What was your fuel consumption on that rapid journey? It reminded me of that archive, accelerated footage of the railway journey from London to Brighton; I liked that.
Is that carbon I see on your footprint?
Anyway, what it is this thing called a 'mosh pit'? Do I need one in my garden for making compost?
Sometimes OSM worries me!
Having read and listened to this, I really, really wish I'd made more effort to go - couldn't find a babysitter and Boy the Elder was away.
New WH Resolution: Make more effort to go to things.
I am now going in to Harborough to see if your Intervention is still there ...
So long as you're not 'freaked out' is all that matters.
I liked all the little red brick villages with amusing names around MH.
Leicestershire rocks! And you're right, we do have great village names. We have lots of ..tofts and as you get closer to the east coast, a lot of names start ending in ..by (Enderby, Shearsby, Saltsby, Ingoldsby) which are all the remnants of the old Danish names which don't really occur south of Watling Street.
As you go deeper into high Leicestershire, the buildings all turn a deep brown-y yellow (local stone) that glows in the sunshine. The soil is also a deep red - the photo opportunities are legion.
I'm sorry to have to tell you though, that your intervention was removed almost immediately from the bus stop, which is a shame.
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