What is it? Wednesday?
There are a myriad of reasons why one
would not know what day it is. In the interest of 'selling the dream'
I'll let you make up your own. Is it the result of a five day rock
and roll drink and drugs bender? Is it the result of my staying up
until 7am every day trying to get rid of all this candy floss? Have I
reverted to the ancient Shankhandian calendar where every day is
'Cruelty day'?
As I say, in the interest of our lives
acting as a conduit for you to fulfil your own fantasies, I'll let
you make your own mind up.
The weekend that's just gone was the
temporal site of the first festival of the summer! Woohoo!
At an unspecifiable part of the trip up to
Cheltenham I thought we'd entered a trans-dimensional state of
suspended animation, as while I could clearly see the world and its
myriad of green horrors whirling by outside of the van, inside of
the van, the speedometer suddenly
read '0mph'. 0mph?
'Uh-oh.'
said Trewin.
On
viewing that, then, we just had to pull off.
What
a great mood I'm in today.
Not only were there electronics problems, but we knew that the
starter motor was having issues, too. This meant that we had to drive
around a little off-motorway village at 0mph (which is difficult at
the best of times) looking not only for a good pace to stop, but
somewhere hilly enough that we could bump-start the van should it
fail.
'Hi?
Yes, we're running a little late...'
Luckily
we found a lovely little roady inlet, all lined with trees with big
thick trunks and nice grass; all peaceful like, to stop and wait and
hope for the AA man.
We
played guitar, laughed at our own bodily functions
(an underused technique for any motivational speakers out there) and
Jeb and Seryn went for a two-hour walk to the nearest place they
could get food. The AA man (I forget his name, but it may have been
'Heltaaaaaaaaaaaaarn') was a very nice man indeed. He even took the piss
out of Trewin, which not many of us get to do. It was like when a
guest speaker comes into class and makes a slightly snarky comment to
the teacher to get you kids onside. Except it was over a van. We
weren't in school. We were outside. I've been over this.
Fixed.
Late.
'Can
we still make it?'
Of
course.
Turn
up late, but the awesome people still put us on, straight away. We
rushed them, but they all pulled together and put us on really well.
The staff at Wychwood Festival, I have to say, were awesome. Thanks,
everyone.
Although
the bar staff didn't take much of a liking to me. I ended up sitting
outside with them at about 1am, having danced like a loon at the
silent disco with the others until 'Come on Eileen' came on and I
thought I'd rather have an axe in the eye than listen to that like an
irony soaked bank-holiday-celebrating fun-time fuck. Simon Pegg has
already covered this attitude concerning The Timewarp.
That's my feeling.
So I
sat outside with the bar staff who were on a break, feeling like one
of the rich people on the Titanic going down to mingle with 'the
hands', but sinking even faster as my state of mind made me think it
would be funny to make them hate me. I get this feeling a lot,
but... Well, there is no but. I get amused by it. I was alone.
Then
I went to sleep across the gapped seats of a van that smelt like Vince Cable's voice.
I'm
writing in a fit of energy and updatedyness. Maybe it's the onset of
summer, maybe it's because I've got other stuff to be doing and
my subconscious is telling me to do anything but that,
or maybe
it's because I love you all – every single one of you – and just
want to impress you.
Or
make you hate me.
Look,
we've got two shows coming up for the launch of Display.
One in London and one in
Brighton. Click on them. Buy
tickets. We're musicians.
I
think.
Stay
safe and be well, and don't shout too loud at PMQs.
Tim
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