We were awakened the next day by pounding on our door. “Wake up. We have to be out in half an hour!” Ryan shouted. He pounded again. “Are you awake?”
I sat up. “We’re up,” I yelled, hoping he heard how annoyed I was. I looked at the clock. It was half past eleven. I was relieved to see Keith next to me. I gave him a shove. “Wake up!”
“Hmmm…” Keith grunted, rolling over to go back to sleep.
“Come on,” I said. “The sooner you’re up, the sooner you’re out of Grimsby.”
That worked. We spent five minutes in the shower and I had to apply my makeup in a hurry, get dressed and toss everything into bags without folding.
“So where did you go last night?” I asked Keith as he gathered his guitars. “I was worried.”
“I went walking is all, then fucking got lost.” He looked at the clock before flopping back onto the bed. “Fucking four hours of sleep.”
I really hoped he was okay. He seemed evasive.
He sat up, reached over and gave me a squeeze, but it didn’t make me feel better.
We lugged everything to the lobby, barely getting checked out before noon. Keith drove just to get out of Grimsby faster.
“We have to stop somewhere to eat,” I said. “Now that I’m up, I’m starving.”
“We don’t have time,” Ryan piped up from the back. “It’s over an hour to Leeds and we need to be there by four.”
“It’s fucking noon!” Keith yelled back. “If it takes us two hours we’ll be there by two. We’ll find some place outside of town, though so I don’t get any unpleasant encounters.”
Billy and Jimmy voted for eating something also and I did a silent count down to see how long it took Ryan to . . .“Bloody hell! We’re getting take-away, then.”
Keith came upon some place saying breakfast take-away, parked and we stumbled from the van and up the block. Ryan paced impatiently, glancing at his watch while we placed orders and waited. While the others griped about the limited take-away menu, I was fine with bap stuffed with smoked haddock and a large cup of tea.
We attracted a few stares from assorted diners who apparently never saw four scruffy lads dressed in punk attire. Billy’s Mohawk was now dyed green and he wore the same shredded Levis as Keith and even Jimmy had two chains hanging from his left lobe and from his clothes. His hair was bleached blond and spiked. I wore a simple sun frock and sandals.
As we left, some older gentleman sitting across from an equally elderly woman, looked at Billy with distaste. “Oi, what do you call that hair?”
Billy looked perplexed. “I dunno. What should I call it? Willie? Sam?”
Immediately, Keith and Jimmy sang, “I’m Henry the eighth, I am. Henry the eighth I am I am . . .” They laughed themselves silly, singing all the way to the van with Billy chiming in. I laughed too. When the final door slammed and the final musician crammed in, Keith careened back onto the motorway.
An hour’s drive popped us into Leeds at just past two. I lugged my bag and art supplies up a flight of stairs and found our room. It was tiny, but clean, though we had a shared bathroom down the hall. I dumped my things onto the only chair and collapsed onto the bed.
The temptation to catch up on sleep was more tempting than exploring Leeds.
Keith left for sound check and the next thing I realized was him kissing me awake. I glanced at the clock. It was nearly 5:00. I sat bolt upright. “La Vache! I slept too long and have postcards to draw.”
“Hopefully it helped. Here, I got you fish and chips and a chocolate milkshake.”
I was tired of fish and chips, but was too hungry to care. At least I felt better having slept all afternoon. I added to the bottom of each card, The Piss Ants, Live at Leeds, but now had only an hour to create more postcards. As a result I wasn’t ready when Ryan came
“I’ll take a taxi and meet you at the club. I need to change.”
“Fuckin’ aye!” Ryan yelled.
“It’s no big deal.” I shot back. “Just give me a pass.”
He dug one out, but griped I was making them later.
When Keith and Ryan left, I finished a final postcard and wrote Piss Ants, Live at Leeds on each. I hauled out my black mini-skirt with red polka dots, a black tank top, long black lace gloves without fingers and black leggings, pulled my hair into a ponytail with the matching polka dot bow and headed out.
I scaled more narrow, twisty stairs that felt like Mt. Everest, flashed my pass and went in.
The Piss Ants were introduced as the greatest punk band from London as they hit the stage.
“Hello,” Keith announced. “We’re the Piss Ants and we play punk rock!”
They tore into the usual openers and the crowd wasted no time in burning a hole in the dance floor. Between Keith’s charisma and the band’s energy, there wasn’t a still body in the house. The band kept the momentum up with one fast song after another.
When they finally left the stage, the audience screamed for
more. It was rare for an opening band to receive an encore. I stayed put and finished another postcard. After three or four minutes, The Piss Ants returned.
“You liked us that much?” Keith taunted. “This one’s is called Punk Rock Girl Friend. Krazy Kats are next so don’t go anywhere.”
They ripped into the song with a fury and showed no signs of slowing down. The audience showed no signs either.
Once backstage, the band broke out bottles of Guinness and were busy imbibing while Ryan gathered boxes of shirts. “Don’t just stand there,” he told me. “We need to set up before we lose momentum.”
“Oh, right away, your worship,” I shot back grabbing a box of tapes.
Ryan dumped the boxes. “Set up. I’ll get the rest.”
I saluted him and began arranging tapes, badges and my precious postcards.
By the time the night was over, we had enough to pay for another night’s hotel. I was definitely earning my keep.
I packed the leftovers and carried what I could backstage. I was anxious to leave, but everyone else wanted to drink and party. Keith wrapped one arm around me. “How did it go out there, luv?”
“It went fabulous, but I’m ready to call it a night.”
He looked perplexed. “Why? The night’s young.”
“If you want to stay, I’ll take a taxi.”
“Don’t do that. Hang about.”
I glanced around at who was backstage. Besides the bands, there were a handful of girls with teased hair and makeup that looked like it was applied with a garden trowel. They were all drinking and smoking with the headlining band.
“No way,” I answered. “I’m off the clock.” I wanted to add that if I didn’t get my beauty sleep I’d end up looking like those girls.
I gathered my things. “I’ll go to the bar to call a taxi.”
Keith followed me out. “Come on, luv. There’s other girls back there.”
That’s when it occurred to me. “You want me to hang about because you’ll look bad if you don’t have a girl. Well, I’m not a trophy and hanging about in a smoke-filled room, getting drunk until I pass out is not my idea of fun.”
Keith stomped away grumbling something that didn’t sound very nice. I had the taxi pick me up at the front of the club to avoid going backstage again.
I got to our room around two a.m. At least at this late hour, there was no wait for the bathroom so I could shower before finally sinking under the blankets.
I had no idea when Keith staggered in. Ryan woke us the next day with another pounding on the door, only this time he was late. It was already noon.
“Are you awake yet in there?” Ryan pounded again.
I opened the door. Ryan looked terrible.
“I fucking overslept. We need to check out like now!”
“You let Keith get drunk last night so you get him up.” I gathered my things and left.
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
