Sunday 1st of April, 2001
At least no one April Fools me. I don't think so, anyway.
There's another e-mail in my Inbox telling me that Sensitive Boy will be Track of the Day at Garageband.com. Is this an April Fool's trick or another clerical error like last week? Or is it actually going to be Track of the Day? The latter is unlikely, but not impossible.
Tidy the living room. Fifth glorious week of this sea change in my lifestyle. Put up double guitar stand for the classical and the Ovation. How organised can I become before I scare myself?
(A lot more organised than this - it's still a mess.)
Do the gym thing. I realise that I'm giving up Bad Things (Alcohol, Meat, Chocolate) at about the same rate that my body is naturally slowing down, so that there is no actual gain in Adonisity. I comfort myself with the thought that if I hadn't given those things up I would be heading for sphericality (and discomfort myself with the thought that I have discarded my usual Adrian Mole persona and have become Bridget Jones. v worrying).
Then again, I put at least a pound of cheeses into that pizza last night. That might have something to do with it.
The most disturbing thing is that, despite years of rataionalising - "I Smoke/Drink/eat Meat/Chocolate/etc because I enjoy them. Life's too short! Blah! Blah! Blah!" I don't actually miss any of it that much. Does this mean (a) self-denial is good; or (b) I have a seriously under-developed sense of the enjoyment of life? And do I want to find out if it's the latter?
On the way back from the gym, I get another call from the chap who wanted a gig, but would now like a floorspot. He wants to make sure that it's alright for tonight and asks directions. Says he'll be there at 8:00.
Put in some more hours on the Nick cover, and burn some CDs for Woodstock. I listen to one to check the sound - it's some tracks that we recorded last year. I am amazed at how good they sound - there's definitely some tweaking to do and they need mastering, but they are basically pretty good. She wants to do some more, soon. Watch This Space.
I head off for the Bread and Roses - my aim was to get there for 7:00, but I'm a bit late, partly because I set off late and partly because there is some kind of obstruction on the tube. When I get there, Stanley Knill has already arrived. I've brought a basic walkman with me in order that he can play a tape through the PA. As usual with that mixer it takes a while to work out which channels are working and which are not (and they seem to change from week to week). I ask Stanley how few people he'd be prepared to play to (since I have a bad feeling about it), and he says that as long as there are a couple of people he'd be OK. A couple of people duly turn up - Russell and Praveen, a couple of poets. Russell will be on (as Rachel Pantechnicon) in May. There then ensues a lot of chatting about the poetry circuit. I don't feel like interrupting them by starting to play, I just sit on the stage and noodle.
I wander off to try to find the mike stands - it could be a bit difficult if there are none. They have, it appears, been hidden. I am taken to them.
By 8:30, there's no sign of the floorspot or anyone else. Katrina has arrived - she's said she'll do the door.I'm just about to give up when someone puts their head round the door and asks whether Woodstock has arrived and will be playing this evening.
Sadly my motivation is about zero at this point - a lot of me has just given up and decided to wait until I can respectably go home. It really is very depressing, although on a depressometer it wouldn't score anywhere nearly as high as trying to work up some enthusiasm to introduce Smiley to a paying audience. And then a string of other floorspots which diminishing returns of enthusiasm.
I kick off at 8:45. I had put 8:00 prompt on the fliers. I don't any more. It was obviously asking for trouble. I do three songs (Where Did It All Go Right - which always demands to be played at the most suitably ironic moments; Secret Agent, and Little Games. Nothing too demanding, then.
Then Stanley does a storming set. Somehow the audience has swelled to seven - I have no idea who the other three people are. Not that I'm complaining.
About half-way though a chap comes up the stairs and asks if him and four of his friends could come in at a reduced rate onsidering there are so few people in - say £10.00 for the five of them. I point out that there are people in there who have paid full whack and it wouldn't be fair on them. He keeps insisting that it would double the audience, which is cheeky for a start (no matter how true it might be) and besides, it just means that half the audience would be made up of people who have declared their intention to Take The Piss from the start, and who would be sitting there, fermenting Bad Energy. I'm not sure that it's worth the extra £10.00. In fact I think I'd be prepared to spend the money to stop it from happening. Presumeably he returns downstairs to discuss my stupidity with his Mates.
Dead posh, too. It's always the dead posh ones who try it on.
[Oops - not suggesting that all posh people are tight-fisted, god forbid. But it is amazing how often plummy-voiced types try to blag a discount.]
I am beginning to worry about whether Woodstock is terminally delayed - I've tried her mobile to no avail. She arrives with about ten minutes to spare.
Stanley finishes - there are now enough people to make a darn good noise.
And then Woodstock goes on and does a good set - she decides not to use the PA, which was possibly, in retrospect, a mistake, since she gets a little lost in the reverberant acoustic. But that's in retrospect.
And so, at the end, it was fun. But it's such hard work at the beginning, before anyone arrives.
When I get home, there's a message on my answerphone from the Floorspot, apologising for his non-appearance.