I had fallen exhausted into bed at 4.15am that morning after a thoroughly enjoyable 14 hour gig in Greenwich the night before, the worst of which was the 3 and a half hour drive back along a very stormy, waterlogged and dangerous M4 – dangerous due to continuously having to overtake the obligatory middle lane hoggers with broken tail lights of course- and so was not best pleased when I was rudely awakened at 7.15 by a full size orchestra ripping out the theme to Pirates of the Caribbean with supreme gusto and a ridiculous amount of energy for that time in the morning.
I suppose I should have felt relieved that it was only my 10 year old son playing his new Wii game at full volume rather than Simon Rattle’s musical horde in my 4ft square spare bedroom, but suffice to say I was feeling just a teeny weeny bit tired and ever so slightly annoyed that by the time I hadn’t had my planned lie-in. Well, as a good mother I popped my head round the door to say good morning to my youngest offspring. Then the usual ‘could do better mum‘ decided to catch another 30 mins snooze before the sound of battling Lego Pirates had literally driven me to the point of insanity. And possible murder.
After several hot caffeine injections and a burnt offering cleverly disguised as a piece of marmite toast I began to think about getting ready for the gig in Cornwall that night. I say that night – The band were due to leave Swindon at 1.00pm, and it was only 8.30am. Loads of time. I mooched about a bit, sort of tidied up the house (a cat’s lick and a promise as my wonderful mother in law used to say), had a shower, straightened my hair and then decided to tackle my worst hated job in the whole world. I ironed the clothes worn but now washed after last weekends gigs – two stage dresses for myself plus a black shirt and trousers for guitarist hubby. I really hate ironing.
Next was to load up the van with the usual gig stuff. So I go through the usual check-list, contract, check. Mobile phone with all relevant numbers punched in, check. Purse with cash and card , check. Directions (printed AA route-planner guide, UK Map and Satnav with charger) – check. Gig bags –check. 4 bottles of tap water – check. A stupid amount of diet red bull cans – check.
The gig that evening was a wedding, Pop of Ages 6 piece line up had been booked to play two hours from 8.30 to 11.30 with CD disco music for breaks and up until 12.00. It was a long way to Cornwall, and the client had kindly arranged for us to stop over at a wonderful B&B for the night (trewithian-farm.co.uk Trewithian Portscatho Truro TR2 5EJ.) I would highly recommend this place to anyone – friendly owners, spacious clean and comfortable, fab breakfast, en-suite facilities and is situated near Portscatho and St. Mawes on the magnificent Roseland Peninsula in South Cornwall.
Anyway, that meant I had to pack overnight bags and enough food and drink for me and hubby for 8 hours worth of traveling too. After much debate about how many spare pairs of socks and pants he should pack, and spending 30 minutes looking for the mobile phone charger – overnight bag & anything else we could possibly need ,check.
At 1.00 our child minder (grandad), singer and the bands drummer arrived. We loaded up some extra moving heads and spectres, checked oil, water, high vis jackets and chocolate rations. All seems well, so looking very smart and professional in our logo T-shirts we head off to Cornwall, convoy style.
Read part 2 ……