Keith woke me in the morning with several kisses. “Wake up, sleepy head. It’s already ten.”
I opened one eye. “No, let me sleep. Je pense J’ai la crève.” I wasn’t kidding. I ached everywhere and my face felt like it was inflated it with a bicycle pump.
“I fixed you breakfast.” Keith presented a tray of comestibles. “Look at what delicacies I fixed. There’s fresh squeezed orange juice for vitamin C, tea with cream and sugar, and the main course . . .” He lifted a lid uncovering a plate of scrambled eggs. “I’ve whipped up eggs with smoked haddock, and topping it off, there’s a scone with butter and raspberry jam. Now, is there anything else you need?”
“This is so sweet.” I gave him an approving smile.
“I won’t let you rest until you’ve eaten everything.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I managed a weak smile. “I hope I can eat. My throat hurts so much I’m not sure how much I can swallow.”
“Then have tea first.” He poured me a cup and mixed in the milk and sugar.
“Are you sure you have no ulterior motive? You didn’t sneak alcohol into my tea?”
“I resent the accusation. My ulterior motive is to get you healthy. Your timing catching a cold isn’t the greatest.”
Keith was great all day. He fixed me lunch, brought me numerous cups of tea, did the washing up and fixed dinner. I almost wanted to get ill more often.
The next morning I felt better, although not fully recovered. We had to drag ourselves out of bed early to pack our stuff into the Healey. We headed to Ryan’s where Louisa had a big breakfast waiting for everyone.
“Are you sure you’re all right, dear,” Louisa asked me. “You look so pale.”
“I’m much better, thank you,” I replied.
“Well, I’m sending you off with plenty to eat. You lot have an all-day drive. Be sure you drink plenty of fluids and eat well. There’s not much to you.”
Louisa gave me a huge thermos of tea and handed over a cooler filled with beverages, sandwiches and gingerbread. We piled into the van. Ryan offered to drive. I slid into the back seat next to the window and Keith squeezed between me and Billy. Every inch of the van was crammed with gear and baggage.
“I want you to ring home periodically and let me know how the tour is going,” Louisa told Ryan.
“I will, Mum, don’t worry,” Ryan replied.
Ryan backed the van from the driveway and we were soon on the motorway headed north. I drank all the tea before the trip was half over. As a result, I soon needed a toilet.
“The more we stop, the longer it’ll take to get to Edinburgh and we have to be there by eight,” Ryan complained.
“I can’t relieve myself by the side of the motorway like you blokes do, so stop somewhere.”
“Bloody hell!” Ryan grumbled. “We’ll stop in Birmingham. It’s ten minutes away.”
“Well, hurry. I’m desperate.”
“This van doesn’t do light speed.”
Ryan pulled off the motorway. “Now to find some place to bloody take a piss.”
“You know, it’s not like I do this on purpose!”
“There’s the train station. They should have something.” He pulled up to the front of the station long enough for me to hop out. “Meet me back here. Be quick.”
“Oui, Monseur.” I stood at attention, saluting him, before running off. After wandering, I finally asked a porter who directed me. I did my business and hurried out. The van wasn’t where it left me. I waited and waited until Ryan came screeching up. I opened the door and scurried in.
“Finally,” Ryan exclaimed
“What do you mean finally? I was out here nearly five minutes and their toilets are miles from the entrance.
“Just go,” Keith said. “We’re still making okay time.”
“I’m trying, but this traffic isn’t exactly cooperating,” Ryan shot back
As thirsty as my cold made me, I dared not drink more. It was no use. When we reached the border I needed the toilet again. I said nothing at first, trying to wait it out. Edinburgh couldn’t be far. We’d been on the road nearly eight hours. The scenery was spectacular. The rolling mountains wore a thick green carpet and the few clouds that hovered about, dipped low to kiss them.
My thoughts were interrupted by Ryan yelling his favorite expletive, “Bloody hell!”
I looked out to see a queue of sheep inching across the road.
“We’ll never get there in time if we wait for these bloody beasts,” Ryan complained.
I needed the loo and was ready to burst. The sheep seemed to get slower. At one point they stopped and stared at us, as if mocking us and enjoying my agony.
“Try honking at them,” I suggested.
“I’m sure that’s never been tried before.”
“Well try it anyway. Humor me!”
Ryan did, and as he’d predicted, the sheep continued staring at us.
I noticed some thick brush not far from the road. “Don’t go anywhere.” I opened the van door, dashed from the van, across a field and over to the brush where I was hidden. It was no easy feat getting my knickers off and bunching my skirt in one hand while I did my business. At least I had tissues due to my cold. I wasn’t sure I would like going on tour. I wasn’t much for roughing it. I made myself decent and heard Ryan honking so I guessed the sheep were still regarding everyone as a spectator sport. I emerged from the shrubbery and trekked across the field to the van. The sheep were gone so apparently honking worked.
“It’s about bloody time,” Ryan groused. “The sheep left eons ago. I’ve been sitting on this horn to get you to hurry.”
“That’s bollocks, Ryan,” Keith piped up. “They’ve been gone two minutes tops. Lay off her, will you?”
Ryan said nothing more and I was glad Keith stuck up for me. Now that I was not in dire agony, I enjoyed the scenery. I wished I could stop and paint the picturesque vista. Scotland was beautiful.
The rest of the trip was uneventful except Ryan couldn’t find where we were staying. Jimmy, being in front, read the map. After several commands of “turn left, now right, I think it’s down this street, no turn around, it’s the other way,” we reached the university by seven.
“Half an hour to get ready,” Ryan said. “We’re about six miles from the concert hall so we have to go together.”
“That didn’t leave much time. After the fiasco of relieving myself in the bushes, I craved a hot shower and it would also clear my sinuses.
We found our room and opened the door. As rooms go, it was plain, but clean.
“I’m having a quick shower,” I said. “I hope there’s time to grab a bite. I’m starving.” After showering, I rummaged through my bag and pulled out my short pink and black plaid dress with the ruffled lace hem and spaghetti straps. Wearing plaid was perfect for Scotland. I tied up my hair with a big black bow, then applied my makeup.
“Hurry, luv,” Keith yelled. “Ryan hates to be kept waiting.”
I slipped into my black ballet flats and grabbed my pink cotton jacket. I’d barely ventured from the bathroom before there was banging at the door.
“That’ll be Ryan. He sounds pissed off,” Keith said. He then looked me up and down and a wide grin swept across his face. “You look stunning, by the way. I wish I could ravish you now.” He opened the door.
“Are you two fucking ready? We’re all in the van waiting.”
“We’re ready,” Keith responded. “I’ll grab my guitars.”
We grabbed take away fish and chips and I ordered more tea. It was a challenge not spilling anything on my new outfit as Ryan whipped the van through narrow streets in search of the concert venue. With Billy now sitting up front navigating, we found the concert hall with little difficulty and came to a screeching halt at the loading area.
The club manager helped unload while I found the merchandise table. Ryan came back with boxes and I set everything up in an artistic array. The doors opened and a steady stream of concert-goers poured in. Kids sported Mohican hairstyles of varying
lengths, and visible piercings in ears, lips, noses, and places I wouldn’t pierce
Ryan came to help me get to the front of the stage. The band was introduced and everyone crushed up against the stage. I was sure I’d be flatter than a sheet of paper before the night was finis. The band began with No Connection, Down At the Pub, then 21st Century Riot. “Good evening, Edinburgh,” Keith bellowed. “This is our first time playing here and it looks like you lot are as excited as us.”
The crowd screamed in appreciation.
“This next one is not on our current record, but we hope to go back in the studio very soon. It’s called Taken Away.”
By the end of the night, I had been jostled about, slammed into and squashed against the stage so many times, I was sure I was covered in bruises.
When the last fan meandered out, and the van loaded, we were finally on our way to the university where I could finally get some sleep. Alone in our room, I collapsed on the bed. Keith joined me and kissed me. “We did good tonight, didn’t we? “Vous etiez genial!” I concurred. “I just wish I felt better.”
“So do I, luv. Get a good night’s sleep. We leave for Glasgow at noon.”
We all staggered in around the same time the next morning to take advantage of the complimentary breakfast, and ate until we were ready to burst like Mr. Creosote in the Monty Python movie. Keith drove so I rode in front. I was sorry there wasn’t time to paint the scenery or see more of Edinburgh. Being on tour wasn’t like taking a holiday. With one stop for petrol, we made it to Glasgow by just past one. We rambled through narrow streets between stony buildings and tall steeples, searching for our hotel. Ryan gave directions from the back. We got so turned around we finally asked someone on the street, who gave us directions after telling us we were headed the wrong direction.
“Bloody map,” Ryan grumbled.
By the time we found the hotel, there was only an hour until the sound check. I opted to stay at the hotel. The sound checks bored me and I would rather explore.
“We probably aren’t coming back,” Ryan said. “The club is at the edge of town, not too close to the hotel at all.”
“Give me the address and a pass. I’ll get there on time.”
“We’re the opening band,” Ryan added. “So be at the club no later than six.” He handed me the pass and I put it in my purse.
Again, our room was plain, but clean. I ran to the window and opened the curtains. When I looked to my left, I could almost see the mountains. That was the direction I’d explore.
We had just enough time to find a chips shop. At this point, I was hungry enough that I tolerated fish and chips again. Keith lit a cigarette and ordered a beer while I ordered tea. My throat still hurt and my sinuses felt like someone inflated them with a bicycle pump.
Ryan was waiting in the lobby when we returned. “Good, you’re on time. Jimmy’s in the van, but we can’t find Billy. He apparently found some bird to hang about with and no one’s seen him. Bloody hell!”
“I’ll let you blokes sort that out,” I said. “I’m going upstairs for my art supplies. I’ll see you at the club.”
“Remember, be there at six,” Ryan reminded me.
“I’ll be there, don’t worry.” I flitted up to my room and gathered my supplies. I thought of calling my parents. They wanted me to check in. It would serve them right if I don’t call. They have to accept my decisions. I gathered my things and headed out. No one was in the lobby so Billy must have shown. I got a tourist map and wandered a bit, taking in the fabulous scenery.
The buildings were hundreds of years old and adorned with intricate carvings. I was mesmerized. So much so it was almost five when I found my way to the nearest underground station and hopped on a train to get to the show. The train stopped at station after station and after what seemed like eons, my stop finally came. I consulted my map, then quickly headed in the direction indicated. I hoped the streets stayed well traveled. I
was told this wasn’t the safest neighborhood. At least it was still daylight. I ventured into the street and suddenly remembered I’d left my pass in my purse at the hotel. “Je suis si stupide!” I yelled out loud.
I remembered the fiasco from Liverpool. Certainly Ryan would look for me. I was now about fifteen minutes late. I raced across the street and down two blocks before looking at the map again. Finally after three or four blocks, I saw kids in punk attires. I was going the right way. The club’s marquee became visible, although the Piss Ants weren’t listed. Ryan said they were the supporting act. I headed to the backstage door and hoped Ryan was around so I didn’t encounter another guard like in Liverpool. Surprisingly, the door was unguarded, but shut. I gave it a good tug but it wouldn’t open. I pounded as hard as I could several times. No one came. I banged again and again.
Finally some disheveled-looking bloke flung the door open. “Would you fuck off? The front entrance is on the other side.”
“I’m with The Piss Ants,” I explained, still out of breath. “I’m supposed to sell for them and I’m late.”
He studied me a moment. “You have a pass?”
“I forgot
“No pass, no entry.” He began to shut the door.
“Wait!” I yelled. “Find their manager or their singer. They’ll vouch for me.”
“Wait here.” He glared at me as if I’d grossly inconvenienced him.
He shut the door, but it didn’t latch, so I slipped inside. To my relief, Keith was there and spotted me immediately.
“There you are. What kept you?”
“I got a bit lost,” I admitted.
“Well, I’m glad you made it. Ryan’s setting up the merchandise table.”
“I guess I’d best get out there then,” I sighed.
Keith grabbed me for a quick kiss and I went in the club.
“There you bloody are!” Ryan fumed. “You’re twenty minutes late!”
I didn’t feel like explaining myself to him. “I’m here now. I’ll take over.”
Ryan left without saying more while I spread out my postcards and waited for customers. Since The Piss Ants were the supporting act, most people were hovering about the starring band’s table. I only sold a couple tapes. Ryan came by and was really nice this time. “We’re about to go on. Did you sell much?”
“Next to nothing,” I answered.
“We’ll put on a show this lot won’t forget. We’ll sell more after. Can you stay here when the second band comes on?”
So that was why he’s being so nice. He wants a favor. “I can see the stage pretty well. I won’t mind.”
When the band hit the stage, Keith addressed the audience first. “How’s everyone fucking doing tonight?”
There was a lack luster response from the crowd.
“Oh, you’re all asleep. Maybe you need a lullaby instead of punk rock. You up to playing a bit of Brahms, lads?”
“That’s not a good idea, Keith,” Billy said. “You know what happened before.”
“No, I think that’s what they need. Come on, everyone, make some noise.”
They were a bit louder, but still pretty lame.
“You’re bloody pathetic. Right then, Brahms it is. He began a Brahms’ lullaby on his guitar and the rest of the band followed. As expected, this was met by several boos and other assorted jeers and expletives.
“What? No lullabies? Fine, the only alternative is to wake you up. But if I don’t see smoke coming off that dance floor, it’s back to Brahms. With that, the band tore into the opening chords of No Connection, followed by Down at the Pub, then 21st Century Riot. Within seconds the dance floor was on fire with kids slamming into each other like a demolition derby. The band continued with three more songs before coming up for air.
Keith grinned. “You just needed to wake up. This next song is called Taken Away. If you like it, we’ll include it on our next record.” The band ripped into the song with such fury I almost saw smoke coming off their instruments. Billy switched to his stand up. He taunted those up front by crashing to his knees at the stage’s edge. He played, his stand-up above his head, danced with it, spun it around the stage floor, all without missing a note. Jimmy was fast and furious, tossing drumsticks in the air, letting them do a complete spin before catching them.
When the last song ended, Jimmy leaped over his drums, landing feet first, while Keith flipped his guitar in the air and caught it. Billy did the same with his bass guitar.
“Goodnight, Glasgow. You’ve been a great audience. I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I still see smoke coming off that dance floor. We’ll see you again soon.”
I hurried back to the merchandise table. Mostly girls bought my postcards. I couldn’t count how many times I heard girls coo about how gorgeous Keith was.
The headline act was a four piece called Lime Aid with a singer calling herself Emma Peel. She had bleached hair with the tips greased into tinged magenta spikes and was a pro at working an audience as she belted out her songs with a powerful, soulful voice.
When Lime Aid finished their last encore, several people headed to both bands’ tables. I wanted to ask Emma Peel what it was like being female and fronting a punk rock band and find out all the places they’d played. Were they from Glasgow? Or touring like us?
When my last customer left, I was able to talk with her. She was from Glasgow.
She chewed gum so loudly it echoed through the now empty club. “Are you the singer’s girlfriend, then?” she asked me. “I noticed you two seem close.”
“We’ve been married just over a week.” I flashed my ring.
She looked surprised. “How old are you?”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Well I’m twenty and can’t imagine being married.”
I shrugged. “So where else have you played?”
Emma blew a huge pink bubble, letting it pop all over her mouth before sucking it in and resuming her noisy chewing. “All over Scotland mostly. We’re trying to get gigs in London. You’re lucky you’re from there. It’s a good place to start.”
We swapped concert stories and she had some wilder ones than I did.
“We’re pretty well known all over Scotland. I can score you and your band any drug. Do you fancy cocaine? I know where to get the best cocaine in Scotland.”
I declined.
She looked surprised. “Cocaine’s nothing. Heroine you should stay away from.”
I was disappointed she was into drugs. Still, I could have talked to her all night. I wished
our bands were traveling together. I could use some female companionship.
When we loaded the van and got back to our room we were so exhausted we just collapsed into bed. I again wondered if my parents were thinking about me. Did they feel guilty over how they treated me? I felt a twinge of guilt I hadn’t called.
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
