I wonder just how many times I have caught the train from the village up to the big smoke? How many miles have I covered in this one same journey? How many trees have i passed? How many faces have I seen? Has there been more sunshine or rain? I’d think there has been more rain for sure, yeas I’m certain of it.
It wasn’t raining when we started this summers run of festivals. it was a warm 20 degrees and everything and everyone seems so much happier when the sun shines. Good old mr Seritonin, sprinkling his warm rays of feel good over everybody.
We traveled by tour bus to a festival just outside Nancy in France, I forget the name already. I slept long after watching a film about a high bred mutation cross between a shark and an octopus causing terror along the California coastline, the film was called Sharktopus and it was truly terrible. I woke up to the sun shining but I could tell the breeze was cooler than it had been back in the UK. I could see dust swirling around and over everything as I stepped from the bus to see what nosh was being served. Everyone complained about the pasta and salmon so I had lasagne instead which was ok. The smoking ban doesn’t mean shit in France and the backstage was already a fog of second hand grey belch smoke so I avoided most of it by spending time on the bus drinking coffee and watching a two part film/documentary dramatisation about the year 1066 and the battle of Hastings. I visited the battle grounds last year and did the tour so thought I might as well touch up some more on this factual event that happened, It’s good to learn about stuff that happened ages ago seeing as I live in a modern bubble of mostly mindless information 245 hours a day.
I did an interview with the G man which was a bit dull as some interviews can be, I tried to lighten it up by saying the next album was all being made by German oompah musicians, but the journalist and the translator didn’t have a clue what I was talking about, I mainly just said yes and no after that.
By the time we went on stage it was cold, not one bead of sweat fell from my brow and I saw people wrapped in blankets watching the show the muffled mitten applause we received kind of summed up the show. We felt like playing for another hour but time restrictions had us by the balls so 57 minutes was all they got. A couple Heinekens were supped after the show as we awaited for the bus call. The bar man for the backstage area had obviously had a few too many slurps of the local moonshine and had a pretend chicken on his bar of which he romantically slid a durex over it’s beak with care and attention and then shoved it up his ass to mine and Danny’s amusement. Silly French bugger. After that we left and went home.
I am Dave Pen