Friday 22nd June cont.
As the band headed back triumphantly to their dressing room to hang with Rita Ora(!!) me and Mark headed for a well earned pint. Tried to get Mark backstage but with only a day wristband it was never happening. I did the gentlemanly thing of saying 'I'm sorry but not sorry enough to not go backstage'. I'm such a good mate!!
I headed backstage to find the band were due to do an acoustic recording for Sky Arts in the artists village. Another buggy ride this time driven by the main man himself, Mr. John Giddings - the man behind the festival, the head of Solo Music Agency and a champion of BBR.
In a sweltering tent and barely half hour after their barnstorming Main Stage set Bang Bang Romeo once again delivered. Thankfully they only had to do the one song. Twice. The vagaries of television.
Back to the dressing room which was now packed with band, family, friends, management, Eleven Seven guys, well-wishers and the wine Rita Ora had given Ross. It was all getting a tad claustrophobic so I nipped out just as some of Kasabian arrived. With Sean Dyche, friend of the band. I was straight over to congratulate him on Burnley's excellent season, to bemoan the fact he didn't get Manager of the Season and to discuss the upcoming European campaign. I didn't realise till looking at photos later that I was doing all this with a fluorescent green beard to go with the beacon orange hat. He must have thought I was a right wanker.
Sam was getting organised again and had managed to collar Stuart, legendary minibus driver who had become the band's personal taxi the day before. We headed back to site, I stuffed some very warm Carling in my backpack and headed back in. It really was rank but at £5.30 for a small can of cooking lager in the artists village it would have to do. The plan was to hang around there till Kasabian came on. I should point out to get guest wristbands normally a boatload of I.D. is required so in my backpack as well as the warm beer was my passport and driving licence. Also a marker pen and my bank card for safe keeping. This will all become relevant later. I had my annual height off with Peter Crouch, he's still winning, and basically got pissed with James Walsh. I told him how I'd introduced my girlfriend to Starsailor and that she was in love with both the band and James. I sent her this, basically 'cos I'm a twat:
I got this back:
James found it hilarious.
We ended up in VIP to watch Kasabian. I'm not totally sure how and it was a double edged sword. It's VIP, I'm never gonna turn that down but this was the view of the stage:
Still, it wasn't rammed and we had space to dance. The Script were just finishing. I'm not a fan but quite liked the last song they did.
Kasabian know just how to deliver a festival headline slot. They said some years ago that they'd only play festivals if they were headlining and they're right to do so. We'd already had 'Three Lions' (it was everywhere that weekend) then as 'Nessun Dorma' rings across the stage the band saunter onto the stage and straight into 'Ill Ray' from last year's 'For Crying Out Loud'. It's an all eras set with every album represented at least once. They can't really fail and there is just something magnificent about Serge (man crush alert).
During the set Rich and Stars were approached by a lady with two young children who had absolutely loved their set, were now massive fans and somewhat besotted with the band. This is why I brought a marker pen. About the only bit of preparation I did all weekend. Lanyard passes were signed and kindly handed over. The looks on the kids faces may well be the highlight of the weekend. (I should point out I asked permission from their mother to use these pictures).
Kasabian were still knocking it out the park on stage when we got the message they'd be sinking a few after the gig in the Medina Quay pub backstage if we fancied it. Well, yeah!! We flocked back, I had a wondrous pint of cold Guinness and told Danny from The Script that I wasn't a fan but liked the last song they did. 'Er, thanks. I think' was the response I got. Can't fault him really. I'd have told me to piss off. We'd been waiting ages, some of us were flagging so decided to call it a night. Turns out I missed Serge and Tom by 5 minutes. Oh well. No buggies at this time of night (2am) so it was a seriously long trek back to the tent. I emptied my pockets, went to put the marker pen back in my bag to realise I didn't have my bag. I'd left it in the pub, passport, bank card, driving licence 'n' all. No way I was walking back now. I really am a liability.
After another dreadful night's sleep I woke up relieved that someone had returned my bag although I couldn't see it in my tent. Yeah. so that had been a dream and my bag was still lost. Curse my brain. My phone was dead. Chris and family were in a camper van which meant as I showered and Chris fed us I could charge my phone. After wandering around trying to get a signal it kicked into life and a flurry of messages filled my phone. Gave the bar a ring. They had my bag!!!! They asked what was in it and I reeled off the list. 'And house keys?' said the voice on the phone. 'God yes!!!!' My bloody house keys. I managed to blag a buggy from The Big Top to the bar and pledged my eternal love to the management. I had a celebratory hair of the dog whilst looking out on the Medina River and wondered why the guy hadn't mentioned the two kazoos in my bag.
So hangover under control, bag in hand I wandered back to my tent ready to face Saturday.
No comments:
Post a Comment