Tim. “You’ve not got much work on at the moment have you?”
Me. “you should know”
T. “Yeah quite! Are you OK to go and rescue a bus tomorrow from Cardiff?”
Me. “yeah go on then. Am I going by train?”
T. “No come and get the bus and get to Cardiff Arena. Pick the band up take them to Nottingham a quick transfer”
Me. “I suppose so”
My lack of enthusiasm was due to the fact it takes 4 hours in a car from my house to the yard.
Also the bus had been resprayed so the interior was going to be in a bit of a mess.
And I was sitting in the bar of the gym after an exhaustive spa session.
All for 2 days work which wouldn’t do much more than cover my fuel.
Me. “Right I’d better fuck off home and pack.”
T. “It’s only a quick 1 night job!”
Me. “Yeah heard that one before.”
Throw a few things in my bag. Fill up with fuel and away I go.
Get another call whilst en route.
T. “Seems the other bus’s problems more serious than originally thought”
Me. “Oh yeah?”
T. “Yeah his gear box is knackered, you may be on it till the end. Tony Toons the other bus”
Me. “Yayyyyyy Tonys ace. Mad as a box of frogs on a badgers back, but ace.”
Get to the yard clean the bus and start to make the beds. I’m knackered and running out of time to get to Cardiff.
“You can finish the beds at the venue, no ones going to get on the bus till after midnight.
Cool fire up the jalopy and head off to Cardiff then.
Tony met me as I drove throughout the gate into the arena.
To. “Hey Steve what happened to you?”
Me.”Different company mate. It was a blue bus when I parked before Christmas. Now it’s green”
To. “No your beard. You look like you’re a Viking or something”
I know what he meant. A fat fucker with a bushy beard cheers Tone!
Tonys a good man and gave me a hand making my beds as the promise of. ‘Don’t worry you’ve got a clear bus till midnight.’ Evaporated as soon as I pulled into the parking space.
“Can I pick my bunk mate? hang on I recognise this bus!”
“Yeah mate it’s had a respray, and I’m your lovely driver”
“Whey aye man its Steve who drove us of the Wiggles. Ah divunt recognise you with your beard like”
The crew were all from Newcastle and I’d worked with them on a tour a couple of years ago. Yeah the Wiggles is that rock n roll enough for you motherfuckers?
Had a good old. Natter to the TM about ‘back in the day’
Tony had refitted his bus, it now looks like someone’s living room. Guitars, bongos, proper wall lights with lamp shades on the stone wall wallpaper.
Resplendent with the crying gypsy woman portrait everybody seemed to have in the 70′s.
As I said, madder than a box of frogs.
As if to emphasise the fact over a coffee he said he dad a log effect fire and fairy lights and tinsel all round the windows for Christmas.
Off to Nottingham, good to catch up with Mole and the Hells Angels loading crew.
Went shopping in that massive shopping mall. Got lost in the market back for a kip ready for Edinbro at about 1am. Woke up about 8PM Watched the last 1/2 of the show before I dived back into my stinking pit befor wee had to set off.
I advised the German driver who had Flogging Molly onboard not to go all the way up the A1. There was a storm warning. And that road tho very lovely on a summers day with lovely views of the sea. At night it’s a twisty bastard and the wind blows a fookin’ gale. Not the best of traveling situations if your passengers are trying to sleep.
He didn’t go the route I said I was going and he had a few lanes to negotiate. (Never leave the main road).
Edinburgh done down to Manchester.
So I can’t go out of the gate I came in. I ask a taxi driver how I can get out. He pointed to a rather large exit sign. I’ll follow the exit signs with Tony following me, the corners a bit of a pig aaaaaaand. No fuckin way am I going to fit through that gateway BOLLOX spin round try going out the rear then. (Ooh err matron)
Herman the German was already going that way.. Hmmmmmm! How did he know that?
Round a couple of cunty parked cars and we are on our way.
Manchestoooor here we come.
I park outside as there are 2 busses inside ready to end my short adventure and rob the job back.
Ah well. There’s a motorbike waiting for me at home to thrash!