Day 315

Saturday August 15

After last night’s show I’m in work today from 12pm until close. I force myself to get up and practice before I go in.

When work’s finished we have a few pints in the bar and I get chatting with Kumi, who I’ve briefly mentioned before, about the diary. He asks me if I’ve ever thought of putting it in print and I tell him that yes, that has crossed my mind. He then tells me about some kind of magazine he’s doing with some friends of his and asks me to send the diary to him so he can see what it’s all about. I tell him I will and direct him to a few passages which I’ll remind him of in the email. I have absolutely no idea what this could be but I’m open to whatever he may want to suggest.

 

Day 316

Sunday August 16

I find out today that a few people in Omater’s band are going on holiday and we won’t be rehearsing again until the second week of September with no gig probably until the first week of October. At times it feels it’s going slow but we’re sounding really good and I know there’s some studio stuff going on in the background ready for some kind of release. What that means or will mean I’m not entirely sure but this, for Omater, is definitely a studio project with a live band attached and ready to go should one be required. The gigging so far has all been part of that. Not only will we be rehearsed but also roadtested. That’s the plan anyway.

Today’s also the day Paul’s coming to town for a little visit and he arrives while I’m right slap band in the middle of a busy Sunday lunch. I have time to say hello and recommend something for him. I can take my time over this because hey, he’s just turned into a customer and you always give them your time no matter how busy you are. But once that’s done I have to leave him to it and keep myself on top of what’s going on. About an hour later Jenn turns up and the two of them go off to The Assembly House, our sister pub down the road, to watch the football. It’s Man City v Chelsea today. Not long after that I finish and get my free work Sunday dinner to go, all wrapped in foil and go and join them. From here, me and Paul will go to The Blues Kitchen. He wants to walk there so we do and on the way, we revisit my early days in London when it all went disastrously wrong. Like, off the charts, way worse than all thought of worst case scenarios wrong. But, we both agree, it got me here or, at least, out of Madrid. During the course of this conversation I discover that although Paul knew I wanted out of Madrid but couldn’t because the lack of work there meant I didn’t have the money, he didn’t realise how desperate I was to get out of there until he read the Costa Blanca Diary. He was reading it pretty much as I was writing it. He says reading that made him really think of what he could do to help; he’d always known about the company he ended up recommending me to, he’d just always thought it was too long a shot to give it a go and something I’d never do anyway. But with all my cards being planted firmly on the table, he decided to play his high risk joker and mention it to me. And here we are today. This is kind of what I’ve always suspected. The Costa Blanca adventure, truncated and unsuccessful it may have been in many ways, led directly to the London one. But even so, I loved the adventure and , as I said at the time, would do it all again if the opportunity arose. Well, out of the summer heat bubble of Madrid, it did.

During this conversation, I text Kes and let him know I’m on my way. This does the job because when we arrive, Kes is outside and tells me I’m probably on next. He’d replied to me literally as me and Paul were in the middle of crossing the road to get to the place. I introduce the two of them, Kes says some nice things about me and then we go inside. We’ve not even got to the bar when my name gets called out. It think Paul can find the stage from here on his own. I mean, it’s straight on and keep going. Oh, and you’ll see people playing guitars and stuff and it’s where all the noise is coming from. Seriously, you can’t miss it.

I get up there and, like happened once before, I’m literally organising myself in front of everyone in the venue. I’ve still got my jacket on, all my case isn’t opened and my lead and strap are still in my backpack. Oh, and of course I’ve not had chance to tune up. Luckily the amp is connected to a tuner so I’m able to take time doing that. Once I’ve managed all this, the whole band around me is already ready and it’s a one-two-three-four and we’re off. I’ve even missed the conversation about what we’re going to play so I just have to catch on and catch up. While we’re doing all this, Paul turns up at the front of the stage – he found it – and he’s got a beer for me. I never like bringing my drink up as some people do. I’m just too scared of all the electrics around the place. So sometimes, especially if I find myself doing a long stint, I end up going a little off with thirst at times. Even just for water. At the smaller venues you can put a drink on a table in front of you and grab it between songs. But this place is pretty big with a high stage and no tables in front of it. It’s nice, just for tonight, to have a helper. I get up and get two sets. It all feels really good, job done, and I come off stage to discover a few guys have just arrived from work. They’re disappointed at having missed me playing but we just hang out and have a few drinks and I’m actually getting a round in when Paul appears out of nowhere. ‘Go,’ he says. ‘I’ve got this. Your gear’s on the stage and they’re looking for you.’ Oh. OK. Well this was unexpected. I later find out that, for some reason, he was up front on his own with my stuff. Why he had it and not me I have no idea. My name got called out and nothing happened. They called it again and he said, ‘Here’s his stuff. I know where he is. I’ll go get him.’ And that’s when he appeared and pushed me in the general direction of the stage. So the guys from work are happy now as they get what they came to see. And this set is the liveliest of all three I play tonight and is the penultimate one so it caps it all off very well. It also keeps up my unbroken days of practice because with early work and then Paul here, if it wasn’t for this jam, I don’t know when I would have played today.

 

Day 317

Monday August 17

Today’s a day out with Paul round the sights of London in the daytime. For the novelty, he insists we walk to the city from my place. Once there and wandered, we settle into a really cool and half price bar/restaurant a hundred yards or so from The London Eye and then later meet Jenn in a very welcoming sports bar just by Waterloo station for some live footy. I have my own insistence today; before we go out, I get some bass practice in. Not much. Just enough to keep it going.

 

Day 319

Wednesday August 19

It’s a little over a week now for the deadline for applications for the auditions I’m hoping to get invited to. I got my new hair done but the live shows were too dark to produce any useable photos. So today I go round the local area with Jenn and get a few done. We live down the road from a London high street, in a small but lovely leafy area and practically next door to a small industrial estate. Every few steps you’re presented with another photo location. We get a huge amount of varying shots done in a very small amount of time. Which is just as well because I feel very conspicuous carrying my bass being photograped while all around us, people are just walking home from work. But we carry on as though no-one is there while Jenn plays movie director getting me to walk forwards, backwards, sit, smile, don’t smile. All but roll over and play dead. Good boy.

She does a great job while I probably don’t do as great a one; maybe I’m tired but I find it really hard to act natural and give the happy smiley feel she goes for a few times. Even so, we end up with four real keepers. But there is one standout shot which I don’t think the other three begin to rival. I’ve always loved, in venues, carrying my bass strapless – the bass, not me. It just has the perfect balance to be carried that way. It’s only at the end of the shoot that it occurs to me to do this. And we find a great industrial like backdrop in the form of a beat up black metal door. Which just happens to have the words Camden and London on it. I think it’s a perfect combination of location and attitude while not being too arty but somehow being arty at the same time. Jenn captures it perfectly. This is the shot I’m going to use to introduce myself. It also happens to be the very last one we took today.

Day 322

Saturday August 22

This week I finally made solid contact with Craig from The Punching Preachers. I’ve been trying to get back the amp that Kevin lent me that I used while I was with them. I’ve sent emails, tried phone calls but the real problem was that I had no-one’s number because I managed to lose all my numbers when my previous phone went mental. I’m sure there are a few other problems there just waiting to come and bite me. The only number I could get for the band was a number to book them that I found online. This just went to voicemail so maybe it’s an old number. I don’t know. Or maybe they only take bookings by voicemail. I don’t know either. A little while ago I got an email from one of the guys saying Craig had been trying to call me but was getting no signal. So I went to that email and saw I’d typed a wrong digit somewhere. Oops. That explained a lot. So I tried emailing him again. And again. And this week, again. He finally called on Wednesday and said a few things about being ridiculously busy and being overwhelmed by emails so mine just kept getting lost. Fair enough and I’ll take his word on all that. We made today the pick up date. I finish work at five. I can get to his local bar for six or some time afterwards. Fine. He has a gig tonight and has to leave at eight. But it will be cool to see him and we’re very amicable and friendly about the whole thing. It seems a nice little meet up might well be on the cards. I’m not bothered about going over whys and wherefores of what happened between me and his band and I don’t think he is either. Shortly after finishing work, he calls me and says that, for some reason, he has to leave a little after six. So if I’m not there, he’ll just leave it at the bar for me to pick up. Now, I should have already left but Dan has very kindly offered to lend me a trolley to go and pick it up with. Fantastic. That will save me around twenty quid on a taxi ride. The reason I’ve not left yet is because I’m waiting for him to get back with the trolley. But Craig preempts all this with, ‘And I found a trolley and that’s with the amp too.’ Bloody hell. Well, thankyou very much. So I can leave now. But I tell him I should have already left to get there for six so I’m pushing time a little. No problem. It’s there anyway.

I get there to be told I’ve missed him by ten minutes. Oh well. But I’m also hoping to catch Paul here too. Only problem is I’ve lost his number along with all the others. And I thought I’d be able to locate his email address easy enough but that didn’t happen either. Remember him? He’s the bass player I met after a Preachers’ gig one night who later gave me a free double bass lesson followed by a session in this same bar. I can only hope he’s there but I’m told he was in and I’ve missed him by five minutes. Oh well again. Nothing for it but to pick up the amp and head back. No point sticking around for a drink just for the sake of it.

It takes a bit of experimenting to see how best to get the amp on this little trolley but I manage it and decide I just have to go slow. First obstacle, getting on an escalator. Nothing for it but to do it. Hey. Not as hard as I thought it would be. But now I face obstacle number two. Getting off an escalator. I decide to just wait until the stairs flatten out and then just get some forward momentum on the thing to get it up that little ramp you never think about when you’re walking on and off the things. And it works. I have two trains to catch, two sets of escalators and one – oh balls – proper flight of stairs. Getting on the trains was the main problem because on the first one I just got the trolley on, prepared to heave the amp up to be met with the announcement, ‘This train is ready to depart.’ Hang about. Only one third of this particulary passenger is actually on the train. Well, a guy jumps up and helps me lift the amp quickly on. I’m profusely grateful. The same happens on the next train. As for the flight of stairs, I leave the trolley at the top, carry – heave – the amp down and then go back for the trolley, only to bump into someone who’s carrying it down for me. Thankyou very much stranger again. But there is one unfortunate incident when, a stop after someone had helped me carry the amp on, a girl gets on struggling with suitcases right in front of me. But I was engrossed in a book I’ve just started reading, a biography of Motorhead. I honestly didn’t notice her until she was actually on the train. I missed my pay it forward moment and right in front of the guy I owed it too. Balls again. Hope he doesn’t think I’m an arsehole. So, London, famed for being unfriendly and unhelpful, was very friendly and helpful to me. The only person who wasn’t helpful in this story is me.

I get back to Kentish town and decide I deserve a beer after all that so go back to The Oxford. I tell Fatima, a newish girl who’s fitted in very well, about my little amp adventure and all the help I got from people and she says, ‘Your charm must have an aura.’ To which I immediately reply, ‘Maybe my charm’s auratic.’ And with that I’ve invented a new word. I go further. ‘It’s possible my charm aurates.’ So that’s the verb. To aurate. It’s a regular verb; its past participle is the simple ‘ed’ aurated. I think I might have to get onto the good people of Oxford about that one.