Author: MadBri23

Rock-God Vibes

We have a fantastic response to our ‘wittiest placard competition’, ending the evening with the stage looking more like a demo than a gig. Once again, the multi-dextrous Stu Shaw joins us on bass, with Stephen Dalley Smith providing rock-god vibes on guitar.

Dark & Ominous

But we don’t allow things to get out of hand. In the morning, we have a fifty-mile ride to Newnham-on-Severn. Two years ago, we had an arts-centre gig here inexplicably cancelled. But our generous hosts Ian & Siobhan made us very welcome. We offered to play for them and friends in their home but ended up just having a lovely evening meal with them.

So, this year, we’re back to put things straight. But first we have to get there. For once, the weather looks less than friendly. As we set off, there’s rain in the air; the skies dark and ominous. The forecast for the coming days looks similarly unpromising. So, we prepare ourselves for a soggy trip.

Pure Freedom

Our moods are further lifted by a brunch stop at the lovely track-side café in Warmley. Once a station, this is now a popular stop-off for cyclists on the Bristol to Bath Railway Path (not only a useful cycleway but also a pleasing rhyme). Here, they serve old-skool teas and breakfasts alongside modern-day coffees and ciabattas. Inexplicably, they also have a TARDIS toilet. I’m always half-expecting to see Tom Baker emerging in fedora and scarf, saying “I’d give that ten minutes”!

Highlights

On we push, following yet another variation on the route North through the outskirts of Bristol. This time around, we’re spared lengthy sections alongside busy dual-carriageways. Instead, we pick our way through suburbs, across parkland, via the University of the West of England’s Filton campus, past a British Aerospace facility and out to the Severn estuary. Of course, there’s more to it than that but those are – for want of a better expression – the highlights.

As we near the Severn bridge, dark clouds loom ahead, with dense curtains of rain clearly visible. So far, we’ve been fortunate. Since the initial downpour, we’ve only had the odd light flurry of precipitation. With hunger beginning to gnaw, we find a spot near the bridge at which to wolf down sandwiches before the anticipated deluge sets in. But it doesn’t.

Invigorating

Once across, there’s a fairly tedious trudge alongside dual carriageway, before turning North East through Chepstow and onto the dreaded A48. We’d remembered this being unpleasant but  memory only goes so far before filtering out the worst. It’s a main artery with little passing space and impatient, borderline psychotic driver behaviour. Never again.

Post-Festival Brain

To mitigate against the temptation to shout obscenities at careless drivers, I repeatedly yell a song written on my way back from Shindig a couple of weeks ago. This has not yet been released but is titled ‘Cyclist’ and appeared pretty much fully-formed in my addled, post-festival brain. I’ll sing it for you some time. OK – how about now?…

Just to consolidate the unpleasantness of this final stretch, we’re hit by a sharp downpour shortly before our arrival in Newnham. Which only serves to make the evening there an even more magical experience. As before, our hosts Ian & Siobhan have beds ready made, shower at our disposal, beers, food and – this time – a gaggle of music-hungry friends lined up for the evening.

Having a (Glitter) Ball

An awning has been erected in the garden but, after the rain, it’s pretty cool outside. Ian & Siobhan are – of course – prepared for that eventuality. They’ve set up a space in their living room, complete with guitar amp, seating, dance floor and – best of all – a glitter ball! Seeing the latter, I’m instantly excited but insist we leave that for the end.

Sea of Stars

Ian’s itching to deploy the glitter ball and we finally let him loose on the last number. Killing the lights and illuminating said orb, we’re plunged into a sea of stars: which is pretty much how I’d describe everyone here. Thanks one and all!

Connections Forged

Fearing breakfast may be done and dusted, we hasten to the kitchen tent. But there’s no need to panic: a help-yourself spread of tasty treats is available well into the morning. More importantly, ‘Flapjack Phil’ is up and running with his stall serving teas, coffees and – indeed – flapjacks. He also happens to live in Carmarthen, where we’ll be performing in a week’s time. So, contact details are swapped and promises to meet made.

Over breakfast and coffee, several similar connections are forged and one conversation leads to another. After some time, Rob decides we should perhaps be thinking about packing down and making our way home. Having struck his tent and stowed everything on his bike, he returns to find me still chatting away to anyone who’ll listen… and several who don’t.

Interesting Characters

Eventually, I relent and head up the hill to fetch my gear. Of course, our tent is next to a water point. So, a succession of campers come to fill their containers. And all are interesting characters. Meaning it takes a good hour before I’m ready to join Rob ready for the off. Naturally, our laden bikes spark interest from other cycle-based festival goers. Leading to further coffees and more conversation.

A Bit Much

The rest of the journey is uneventful and we’re soon home in time for a little pre-tour prep. Although the music tour is already underway, the main cycle journey begins after our Fringe show at the Rondo. So, we have time to ready our bikes, instruments and bodies for the test to come. But before that, we have a Sunday-afternoon gig at The Grapes in Bath.

Social Hub

The Grapes used to be a rather dour, city pub. It was adorned with fruit machines and TV screens showing betting shows masquerading as sports. The beers on offer were mass-produced and un-loved. As, I suspect, were many of the unfortunate souls who took refuge there.

No Need To Fear

Initially, I’m concerned. To be honest, I’ve not pushed this gig at all. I know The Grapes pulls a regular crowd and have been focussing my marketing efforts on this week’s Fringe show at The Rondo. As we set up, the place is near empty, so I wonder whether I’ve underestimated the need to do more.

Pretend Friends

Whilst one punter berates us for our less than punctual start, the staff here are very relaxed and the vibe is predominantly laissez-faire. Our complainant doesn’t stick around long in any case, so we’re not sure what his beef was. The rest of the pub quickly comes onside, listening with intent and responding in all the right places.

Just before the break, a new group arrives. They are instantly engaged with our performance and clearly taken with the material. During the break, we discover they are members of the band Pretend Friends, who’ve just come over after playing at The Bell on Walcott Street. We quickly establish a rapport (at least, we think we’ve made friends…) and they take up positions at a table in time for the second half. Evidently, they’d played a binder at The Bell, so it’s nice to provide them with some entertainment as they wind down.

Time a-Plenty

It being a sunny afternoon, we don’t dally after our performance. Instead, we make our way home for some nourishing home-cooked grub, curtesy of my wonderful wife and her allotment. This – as someone pointed out to me at the bar on the first night of Shindig – is a marathon, not a sprint. There’ll be time a-plenty for revelry as the tour progresses…

Testing Equipment & Fitness

This was a few short miles outside Bath but, inevitably, required the negotiation of some steep hills. It’s virtually impossible to go anywhere from here without a climb, since the city nestles among hills at the southern reaches of the Cotswolds. So, this was a good way to test our equipment and fitness levels before the long trek across Wales. Once again, my son Florian accompanied us – along for the pure enjoyment of the ride and also to spend time with Rob, whom he loves.

Safe Hands

Following a wholesome communal meal, we got ready to perform in the main marquee. Our friend (my ‘Made by Martians’ band-mate) Marick was on sound, so we knew we were in safe hands. We quickly soundchecked whilst circus performers prepared their show outside. As they finished, we took to the stage. But then a drumming-circle broke out. OK, we could wait. At the end of that, I overheard someone saying they should bring one of the scheduled workshops forward. What?

This time, we didn’t hang around. It was already 90 minutes after our planned start time and people had begun to disperse. However, once we got going everyone realised something was happening and back they came. It turned out an announcement had been made earlier to say the band scheduled to play after us had had to cancel. Which everyone had taken to mean there would be no music.

Dance Moves

Following our set, Marick took to the decks with world-music infused beats that kept everyone on their feet. A great night all round and a fitting start to the tour-proper.

Packing Down

As is often the case on the morning after a festival, when I awake the crew is already hard at work packing down. I spot someone removing cladding from fencing that hides our backstage area. As he cuts some cable ties next to where I’ve secured my bike, I ask whether he’d like me to remove it.

Which is when I discover my keys are missing. Strange: I’m very methodical in where I keep such things. But no matter how hard I look, it’s clear they aren’t here. Eventually, I realise I’d pocketed the keys after locking the bike Thursday on arrival. There’d only been time to put up the tent and grab some food before my gig on drums with Made by Martians. I hate having anything in my pockets on stage, so had stowed the keys in my sticks bag.

Avoiding Car Use?

Fortunately, I was able to reach Ian and arrange for him to deliver everything to my wife, who – luckily – wasn’t working. She then, very generously, drove the keys back out to me at the site’s production entrance. So much for avoiding car use.

Home Comforts

Eventually, I’m ready for the bleary-eyed ride back to Bath. It’s not far – some 25 or so miles. I’m looking forward to a warm bath and home comforts shortly. It’s been an exceptionally warm weekend and I’ve left without having any real breakfast. So, I’m pleased to pull in to the car park of The Vine Tree pub where I took refreshment on my last return journey from Shindig.

As I do so, two things happen. One is the landlord appears to tell me he’s closed today. The other is my front tyre suddenly deflates. My bike is a hybrid with enormous tyres. I’d promised myself I would replace them with something less extreme as soon as they wore out. Now 8 years old, they were finally showing signs of imminent demise. When they puncture, these tyres lose all structural integrity, becoming floppy and useless (some kind of metaphor?). Worse still, they are fiendishly difficult to remove.

Another Problem

As we left home on Thursday, my son looked up the baffling code from the spare inner tube’s packaging. He’d ascertained it should fit a tyre of 32 to 44 cm diameter. “Good” I’d said. But, a few miles into the journey, I’d remembered my ridiculous tyres had a diameter of 55 cm. So now I’m having to over-inflate the spare and hope it will hold up for the remaining 20-odd mile ride home.

Upside

So, gingerly I proceed, trying to avoid potholes (of which there are legion on this stretch) and hoping for the best. Fortunately, I get back without further incident, barring an encounter with the world’s grumpiest stool-pigeon at a pub near Grittleton. I’m somewhat relieved when he leaves the room and the locals all agree he’s an unfriendly old curmudgeon. Not me then.

The upside of the puncture is I’m prompted to order-in more appropriate tyres ahead of the long ride to come. In the meantime, I’ll use my spare bike for the short trip out to Inglesbatch for Protestival. More of which shortly…

Relief

It’s a short journey, around 24 miles North-North-East from Bath. Initially, there’s a long climb and I’m careful not to push things at this early stage of the trip. I’ve had a lingering chest complaint in recent weeks, so haven’t kept up my usual training rides up the steep North Road in Bath. It’s, therefore, a relief to find I manage this without difficulty.

My son, Florian, is accompanying me, ostensibly to test his newly-rebuilt gravel bike. However, I suspect he also wants to check I’m OK. Either way, it’s a pleasure to have him along for the ride. We’ve done a lot of cycle touring together over the years. When he was young, I’d be there to support and encourage him. Now, the tables have turned: I couldn’t be more grateful or proud.

Surge of Endorphins

We take a break on the shaded grass opposite the entrance to Grittleton House. In the past, I played several weddings inside that former public-school mansion. That was with Cartwheel Ceilidh, whose guitarist and fixer, Pat, was a contemporary of mine and Rob’s during our time at Middlesex Poly. He also played guitar in Rob’s band ‘Rob Whale & The Marleys’ (one of the great band names), for which I played drums. We’ll be staying with Pat at his current home among the Preseli Hills later in the tour.

Straight Forward

From here, it’s all pretty straight forward. We reach the festival site without incident and on schedule. Having said our goodbyes, Florian sets off for his somewhat swifter return home, no-longer restrained by his old man’s sedentary pace. And I head for the artists’ accreditation point.

As Ever – a Joy

Martians’ bass player, Stu, is already on site and reports there is ample space to camp in the shaded area backstage. So, I wheel my bike in to meet him there. Jim, meanwhile, is told he has the wrong vehicle pass for this entrance. He, therefore, will have to drive back off site and re-enter via the main public route. What a pain.

Shindig is – as ever – a joy. I find myself deflated after ending my set with a song that heavily relies on Rob’s fiddle playing and vocal harmonies. I don’t suppose anyone else will have noticed but there were several other songs that – to my mind – could have provided a stronger finish. Rob will be joining me for the rest of the tour. Meanwhile, playing solo serves to remind me how much he adds.

Aving It Large

Having said that, several people comment afterwards on the songs and their message. I remind myself that’s what matters. And then settle in to ‘aving it large!