Communication
I meet up with Mark, Sid and Kat at our usual rendezvous point at Sainsbury's in Camberley. The journey is punctuated by the usual piss-taking when the subject of Spandau Ballet's impending reunion crops up. Sid seems to be taking an interest in this and reels off a load of 'Spandau Ballet' songs - I make a passing comment that Sidney must be a bit of a fan and he confesses that he does indeed own all the records he has mentioned.
Sid. Likes. Spandau. Ballet.
The rest of the journey is undertaken in total silence.
Through The Barricades
We arrive in Windsor - still in a mild state of shock - and find ourselves in what appears to be the delivery bay area of a shopping centre. We must have gone wrong, the place we're playing can't be here.
But it is. Great.
We get out of the car and I step into puddle. Only its a very deep puddle. I appear to have put my left foot into an open sewer. Great. I'm in a back alley and I stink. And I'm friends with a 'Spandau Ballet' fan. I've hot rock bottom, my own personal Nadir. It can't get any worse.
We saunter into what transpires to be a very cool looking bar and we're greeted by the uber-confident Niel. He greets us all with a smile and a firm handshake. Except for me - he backs off sharpish when the smell of my left leg drifts in.
I Don't Need This Pressure On
The sound guy, Tom, seems a little aloof but eventually gets the construction of a p.a. underway. We notice there are no monitors. I point this out to Tom. He says they don't have any. I mention that there are a load of speakers around the back I've noticed not being used. "They sound shit" he insists. Ok, but a shit sound is better than no sound at all. He pauses for a while, looks at me a little enigmatically and says......
"I have a wedge ....... will you help me".
OK, so I'm friends with a 'Spandau Ballet' fan, I'm in an empty pub situated in a back alley, I stink of raw sewage and some bloke I just met wants me to pull his underpants out of the crack of his arse. And I thought it couldn't get any worse.
But then he wanders off towards a cupboard and points me at a large wedge monitor speaker.
He then admits that he is just a bit lazy and didn't fancy lifting the heavy speaker. I'm so relieved that the situation doesn't involve the realignment of his undercrackers that I forget to get annoyed with bone idle git.
We soundcheck - it all sounds OK. Result.
True
I order some food to share round. Even the 'Spandau Ballet' fan eats some! Sid never eats. Ever.
It's at this point I discover that I have the keys to one of the server rooms at work in my pocket. Ordinarily not a problem, but I'm not going into work tomorrow and a lot of people need to be in that room. Great.
Gold
'Our Lost Infantry' are playing first. They are a very fine band indeed. This is about the fourth time I've seen them and I'm singing along to most of their tunes now. A right talented bunch of youngsters they are. The gits. They even talk to me despite the fact I smell (more than usual).
To Cut a Long Story Short
We play OK, no great shakes, just OK. Neil is stood behind me and appears to be grimacing even more menacingly than ever. But that's probably because he has to tolerate the aroma of Windsor's sewerage system for the best part of 45 minutes.
Only When You Leave
We say our good-byes and load up the cars.
I pick up my car at Sainsbury's when Mark drops me off. It's midnight and I want to go home. But no. I have to drop off those sodding keys at work on the way. Luckily its only a 10 minute diversion. I press the buzzer and am ushered in by the genial security guard. I explain the situation and hand over the keys.
"Thanks very much" he says "...................there's a funny smell in here tonight aint there?"
Yes there is.
Ben
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