my stuff
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i heart bandito
Twas the Go! Team gig last night. I admit to being 50% excited by going to the gig and 50% disappointed by the gig, which is perfectly normal for me. I am one of those annoying creatures who decides before hand what kind of a night I’m going to have, thus either being hugely surprised and having a fantastic evening (unusual) or being really disappointed and even more depressed by the fact that I had a terrible time BEFORE I even got there and was right the whole time.
Or something.
So. The gig was in Glasgow (not far from Edinburgh) and one of my most beloved of all music venues (The B@rrowlands). No shitty beer advertising, no shitty beer venue, no shitty bought-for-by-the-sale-of-beer soundsystem, no shitty ‘stuff them all in as tight as we can cos we’re beer selling fuckers’, no ‘ooh this band I don’t really like is playing at the beer place and because I’ve got no common sense I’m going to go it and throw the shitty beer in plastic cups at the band, cos I’m so fucking stupid it makes me feel like a man’ punters. Nope, none of that - just good dirty floors, door men that are in turns heroically well humoured and satanically angry and cloakroom/toilet staff who are at least 98 years old, all wear black cardigans and have blue rinses, smoke a million fags a day and worked there, in the exact same role when the B@rras was a ballroom dancey place back in 19canteen.
So. In actual fact, I’d say my ratio of excited-disappointed was more in the favour of excited, so lets say 60/40.
There are many problems that rise from living in Edinburgh and wanting to go out in Glasgow. As the 2 major cities in Scotland, 2 cities that have so many amazing things going for them AND only being about an hours drive away, they are really segregated and it’s a shame. There’s always been this we’re from Edinburgh so we hate Glasgow and vice versa which is chronically stupid. They both have such unique personalities that one should be enjoyed and then the other. Like cheese and wine. Vodka and tonic, fish and chips etc.
Anyway, I blab. Basically, this isn’t always possible because the fucking train system between the 2 cities is moronic. 11.30pm is the last train. Which means (and I even looked upon this with the misty reminiscing eyes of someone who forgets what she moans about usually) that any gig of old had to be cut short by anybody needing to leave Glasgow that night and make the wacky races style sprint to the station to get home. Hell mend the fool that stayed for that ‘one last song’ and ended up trailing the streets having missed their bus/train.
So it was with this in mind that Bandito and I spent the week struggling to decide whether to get the train through (last train home at 11.30pm), the bus through (last bus home at 11.59pm) or drive. We decided that since the band were coming on at 7.45pm they’d definitely be finished with enough time for us to get the last train home if we dashed and if we missed it, the skanky bus full of drunk Edinburgh oiks it would have to be.
The clock struck 5pm, I down tools (well, the make up I was putting on, having come to a complete work related standstill at around 1pm when it was time to get the baked potatoes in for lunch) and rush outside to meet Bandito so we can nash to the train station and start our merry night out.
Bandito is sitting in the car.
Eh?
Me: Are we driving to the station?
B: I thought I’d just drive, it’s much faster
Me: But I thought you wanted to have wine with tea (oh yeah, I forgot we’d decided to make it a night by going for a curry first. Mmmmmmmmm)
B: Well, not every night has to have booze in it HL.
Me (looking at him funny): Weird. Are you sure?
B: Yes! Get in the car!
So, off we go, me feeling quite silly clutching the bag with 3 beers to my chest as Bandito screetches along the road looking quite odd.
Drive, drive drive we go. Into the Weedge we arrive, attempt to tackle the road system (all one way it would appear. With no left turn anywhere in sight) and finally after Bandito declares ‘that’s it! I’m going to go mental at this place in a minute’ (to which I’m sure Glasgow gave a slight shiver of fear) he careers round a corner proclaims ‘we’re here’ and stops the car.
We get out and Bandito starts grinning at me, but having no sense of direction or to be honest, any idea of where I am in any place, I still don’t really understand what’s going on – even when he pulls out a big rucksack and starts nodding to the building behind me.
Bandito decided he didn’t want to do the wacky races run to the station after our long awaited gig (he’d bought me the tickets for my birthday back in November) and booked us into this lovely hotel for the night!
Oh my god. I was so excited I nearly wet myself.
I mean, I would’ve been just as happy with a holiday inn or a travel inn or whatever, but I was even more chuffed about it not being one of those hotels.
Excited – Disappointed ration? Notch it up to 70/30.
We checked in, bounced on the bed (and I don’t mean sex, I mean we bounced on the bed. Surely everybody does that?) squished the pillows, checked out the entertainment (and I don’t mean sex, I mean we checked out the dvds and cds and the mini bar and all that) and then it was time to leave to go for our dinner.
We leaped in a taxi, had a lovely dinner (where I nearly made Bandito fall off his chair by ordering a glass of water before dinner instead of a beer) and then headed off to the gig.
What a great night. I have NO complaints about the gig at all. Even people who would usually have annoyed the shit out of me, didn’t make a dent.
Big Tall Guy Who Refuses to Remove His Bad Leather Jacket and Will Not Dance On Any Terms: No problem, I’ll step aside.
Terrifying Looking Hard As Nails Girl: tried to skip the queue in the ladies’, she went back to the end of the queue when she’d been rumbled by the toilet lady and even though I thought she was going to say something nasty to me as I walked past (derived from the fact that a) she looked hard as fuck, b) she spotted me looking at her when she’d been sent to the back of the queue and c) am used to that kind of thing) she shouted ‘hey Linda, check out her outfit’ (inwardly steeling myself to hear something really evil about me), ‘that’s fucking gorgeous, eh?’ (inwardly releasing bum muscles and smiling to myself). She was alright in the end.
The Girl With The Bag That Always Bounces Into You: nudged it a little. What did she do? Only apologise and put it on her other shoulder.
Aaah. It made for enjoyable gigging (is that a term? See how street I am?) and to top it all off – The Go! Team seem to have the shortest fans ever.
I could see. I could actually see the band. Of course there were some tall people but on the whole we both saw everything (although I couldn’t see the lead singers legs, but you know, no point being pedantic!).
And to make matters even better, the band were fucking brilliant.
I was nearly moved to tears by how much I was enjoying myself.
One moment I enjoyed so much was watching Bandito having a ball. I love watching him when he doesn’t know I’m looking. As soon as he’s around music he goes into his own world, no better illustrated by the part when the band were all telling the crowd to get their hands up and the crowd merrily flung their hands above their heads and started clapping and whatever (me included). I turned round to look at Bandito and he was grooving away, without a care in the world, hands not in the air, with no idea that thousands of people around him were all united in one gesture whilst he was doing his own thing and loving it.
Bless.
After the gig we had a quick drink in the hotel bar and then retired to our room where Bandito had hidden a bottle of champagne for us. We scoffed that, ate mini bar chocolate, crisps and nuts (ooh the extravagance!), watched 4 episodes of the raunchy version of hollyoaks and conked out in an incredibly comfy bed, satisfied, happy and excited about the breakfast in bed we’d ordered for the morning.
I have to say, I feel a bit ridiculous about my mad panic entries about how things are awful between us, after having last night. We both agreed on these 2 things, however: We REALLY needed that and we REALLY have to do things like that more often.
…
And so, here we are. Back at home, after a lovely morning in (sunny – shock horror!) Glasgow. The fridge is defrosting, we’ve done all of our housework and we’re getting ready to go and visit LB, Mr LB and their little boy (BB) where no doubt we will get legless, fight over trivial persuit and play music as loud as we can without waking up the babber.
God. I am in the midst of a perfect weekend.
Oops. Just jinxed it now.
Shit.
3:37 pm - 18 February 2006
