As it has been several weeks since my last confession, and I have jumped ahead of myself somewhat, I will go back to the beginning with our trip up to Belladrum the preceding Friday. We were on the main stage this year which has a really nice setting, and there was a good crowd out for a Friday late afternoon too. The rain held off until we were just about finished packing the van after our set, so we ran to the catering tent for a bit of dinner, and indeed Davey "Two Meals" Smith managed to have, aptly, two meals. I went for one meal and two cakes as I have some sense of decency (and two cakes goes very well with two coffees), then we headed homewards for a Saturday of doing laundry and sleeping.

Festival Survival Tip #6 - You get more "bang for your buck" if you get down with the lentil brigade.

Sunday saw us heading south to The Big Chill, in glorious sunshine. We unloaded the van a few miles from the stage (that may be a slight exaggeration) and myself and Kas sat with the gear to wait for a trailer. Some hours later (that may be a slight exaggeration), a trailer arrived and we drove round to the stage, past the enormous abandoned tower of Vitamin Water(TM), and having only injured one or two suicidal pedestrians on the way. Once everything was in order I went off for a vegan burger (see Tip #6 above) and caught up with some friends while working on my "Scotsman's Tan" (deep red). This brings us neatly round to the opening paragraph, when a few of us got caught out by an enthuasiastic clock, but having arrived sheepishly on stage we went on to play an enjoyable set. It took quite a while afterwards to get all the kit back to the appropriate loading point so we hung around backstage looking forlorn until they gave us some more free beer, then set off for the delights of the Travelodge (I think - I really need to start keeping a diary. Maybe we slept in the van. Who knows? Who even cares?).

Monday saw us into London in the afternoon for a "courtyard session" for The Fly (video available in previous blog). As drums were deemed a bit much in this case I undertook some "very important" jobs such as going to buy batteries and smoking, leaving Jim, Rory, Arne and Dave to do some cool acoustic-ness. Then we went round to the Royal Festival Hall to load in ahead of the evening's support slot with The National. The venue was more than impressive in scale and the staff more than helpful in demeanour, indeed there appeared to be a lady assigned to our dressing room (actually, three dressing rooms, each with it's own piano...) solely to slice ham and follow me around wrapping things up in cling film as I casually made a sandwich. The stage was great, the layout of the seats was a little intimidating from my position on the riser but the half hour set was over so quickly I didn't really have time to think about it. We packed up sharpish and headed upstairs to one of the boxes to watch The National, the first time I'd seen them and they really were very good. A lot "harder" than I was expecting as well. Afterwards I managed to lose everyone whilst looking for an errant hi-hat stand and ended up six floors up trying to find the mysterious Artists Bar. When I did finally find it it seemed to be filled with very tall drummers (we were just missing Mick Fleetwood for the full set...), and Ian accosted me in a flap having just blurted out some "I want your babies"-style banter to the very tall drummer of the Bad Seeds concerning their Latitude set. I managed to avoid any similar incidents by not speaking to anyone at all until we were crushed in a tiny lift at the end of the night (which, according to the safety notice could have held another three people - a likely story). We had a look for a bar afterwards but it seems that getting a late drink in London is a trickier business than in Edinburgh at the moment (although the 5am licencing won't last forever...), so we went back to our long-suffering friend's flat in Brick Lane for a few tins and a kip.

We had the following day off, a few of us having to meet at the Festival Hall to pick up the gear at five but with the rest of the day to ourselves. As I was running perilously low on finances by this stage of the game, I had taken the liberty of memorising four pages of the A - Z the previous night, in the hope that I could avoid public transport and spend the day exploring the locality on foot. After spending some time in a park, I found my way to the British Museum, and spent most of the afternoon there before navigating my way south (I did actually use the position of the sun for this, as by this point I had completely forgotten what the map looked like). We loaded the van and sat by the river for a beer before heading back for some tasty dinner and drinks at Brick Lane, and a thoroughly refreshing sleep.

Wednesday saw us heading to Germany for the first time (as a band. Obviously Arne has been there lots...), to play the Haldern Festival. We stayed in Rees (I think), on the Rhine, arriving some time after a lot of the local eateries had already closed, but managed to find somewhere that would sell us pork and chips with a gallon of mayonnaise and some tasty beers before heading back to the hotel. It was a nice evening for walking and the town was quite sleepy, indeed the only things I saw stirring on the way back were rabbits, lots and lots of rabbits. Our room had a small balcony so I stood out and watched the lights of the boats heading up the Rhine for a bit before Kas returned from the pub and climbed up the balcony, taking some of the edge off of the peacefulness...

Festival Survival Tip #13 - Beware the Irish, beware drummers.

We took breakfast in the hotel dining room, which made the most of it's location by having full length windows all the way round the side facing the river. There were constant boats and coffee, the wheels of industry and the ham rolls were turning, and I left feeling ready for the day. We decided to stock up on cheap beers and pastries at Lidl (over the bridge, left hand side...), before heading to Kalkar for some extravagent ice creams and strong coffee in the market square and a walk down to a windmill. We then headed for the festival site, Arne charming passing cyclists with his witty chat, of which I understood nothing, arriving in the early afternoon. We were playing in a big speigeltent, all wood and mirrors, with big screens outside for the punters that couldn't fit in. It had all the humidity of a sauna and as one band had dropped from the bill our set had increased to an hour which was a royal workout and a chance to test some new material too. Afterwards we went for tea, a ludicrous feast of meat and tasty bits, washed down with copious amounts of beer, self-service taps of which seemed to be available all over the backstage area. We went back to watch a few bands and meet Arne's family before they set off, then headed backstage to our dressing room/caravan to grab a few more beers. Things start to go downhill a little around about this point, I recall talking to some ladies from Liverpool and then Kas going to bed at a shockingly early juncture, the meal having taken it's toll. A few people went to the lake for a swim, and I ended up doing the rounds of the campsite with an Irish fellow from one of the other bands, also a drummer. At some point we picked up some of the stage crew who we had met earlier that day, who also helped with some of the more difficult campfire translation (do you have any cigarettes? etc.), my last recollection being sneaking into the backstage area with some 2 litre water bottles to fill them from the free beer taps.

I awoke in Belgium (?) with my jacket over my head and a bottle of apple juice clutched in my hand, although I had had breakfast backstage with Dave earlier that very morning, apparently. If I did it wasn't at the forefront of my memory, but as we didn't have a gig that day I didn't worry too much about this state of affairs and tried to spend as much time sleeping as possible. It seems we missed the ferry but got on a later one ok, and after a restorative McDonalds (bleurgh) things started to look a little better. We made it to Toddington alright and set about monging in front of the telly and dozing. The next morning was a lot better, until we stopped the van to put some air in the tyres, and it wouldn't start again. After a while someone from the AA arrived, and did a remarkable job of fixing the engine, for a jakey (geddit?). Although his parting words were, if you stall it or stop the engine, it'll never start again. So no pressure for the drivers.

Festival Survival Tip #21 - It is the responsibilty of the driver to check oil, water, and tyres DAILY.

We made it to Summer Sundae in Liecester without stopping the engine and found our way to the stage, albeit a little on the late side. It seems that communications between the festival and ourselves had been minimal since it was booked and there was a good bit of trying-to-work-out-what-was-going-on going on, but we got on alright and played fine. As it was in the middle of Liecester the volume was reportedly set low enough to have a normal conversation pretty much right in front of the stage which meant that there was maybe a little impact lacking but all in all I think it went over ok. By some miracle of engineering the van started again afterwards and we were able to head back to Edinburgh in time for the Queens Hall show the following Monday.