Si On Tour: Dublin and Wember-leeeeeeee! Part 1.
Well these last few days have been nothing short of extraordinary. I've had such a blast!
After the high jinx of Manchester and The Fab Cafe I found myself BADLY tempted to add a date or two before my next scheduled gig, Wembley on the 25th.
The quite wonderful Craig (TonyDay here on BWW) had informed me that he was driving down to the NEC for the Brum gigs and that he could fit an extra bod into his car for those. So that was the plan.
However, in typical fashion I decided to go the extra mile and see whether I could afford Dublin or not. I couldn't of course, but that didn't stop me! Never does. "Where there's a will there's a way" and all that...
'Our man in Ireland' Eamonn very kindly offered to put me up at his humble abode (along with the six zillion others!) and supply me a ticket for the first bash, which I duly accepted. How on earth could I possibly refuse?
Eamo, as he did with so many other peeps, picked me up from Dublin airport and drove me to his place, where I had the good fortune to meet a fine old set of BNetters young and erm, slightly younger!
Some familiar folk, as well as some new faces that I was very grateful to share company with.
After much deliberation (as well as a memorable shopping trip for lollipops with the nutty but nice Angel) we decided to head on down to The Point at 4-ish. Ramoana, Angel and co went to join the queue whilst me, AndyAndy, DiamondDave (still gutted about those fellow Aussies getting whacked earlier!) and Andrewa decided that a few pints was in order before the gig.
The Point is quite conveniently located in the middle of nowhere and the Harry's Bar next door was shut, but we still managed to find a decent boozer nearby (forget the name) where we could watch the footy results and laugh at LFC and Man City. World Cup, Bowie and now this! Bliss.
After nicking a bit of Andrewa's pub lunch (sorry!) me and AndyAndy decided to make our way down the road to the venue, a few pints to the good with batteries completely recharged.
In the queue we had the good fortune to meet DEmerson and a lovely bunch of folk from the US who, not at all annoyingly, christened me with my new nickname: Westlife!
Ta for that guys and gals. lol
Andy is a very lucky boy. His 'got to get near the front at all costs' sprint to the doors almost got him a good beating off security, but thankfully they took pity on him and his unfortunate hairdo (soz mate!) and gave him an authoritative "OI! SLOW DOWN" instead. Me and 8,000 others weren't jogging along beside him.
Once inside The Point we met up with all the usual suspects and had no problem at all walking right to the front, and it was then that it struck me just how small the place actually is! Such a contrast to the soulless walls of the MEN Arena just days earlier, a 'sit down and shut up' gig if ever there was one! Now THIS was going to be a show to remember.
After hearing much negativity concerning the Dandy Warhols I had very LOW expectations of their set. I'd missed them in Manchester so up until then I wasn't qualified to comment on them, save the fact that I'd heard their first LP and liked it a lot. Happily, I was pleasantly surprised and really enjoyed them, as many others around us did too it must be said.
But now to the real meat of the matter, the big un!
Our David appeared onstage at around 9pm and served up a real tasty treat, a truly fantastic performance furnished by some out of this world guitar work by the 'forever cool' Earl Slick (whose gnarly riffs seemed to be a lot higher in the pudding mix than usual to my delight). Apologies at this point go to the very pretty Lovelow, who I must have caught at least 10 times with my elbow and other bits and pieces during db's set! Sorry hon! I'm an excitable so and so. All it takes is a floppy blonde geezer and a whole bunch of songs to get me dancing like everyone's grandad at a wedding reception!
A memorable moment came during 'Life On Mars' when I turned to look at Ramo, Eamonn, Angel and everybody around me and take in all those happy, contented, spellbound, teary faces.
Truly magical. A lasting image that I hope I'll never ever forget. The boy db done good alright. :-)
So the gigs been and gone and I'm now well and truly in my 'where's this party at?' mode, as everybody else seems to be. Hand in hand, me and my heavenly Angel wander to the exit and take it upon ourselves to sing " Oh show us the way to the next whiskey bar" from 'Alabama Song', although sadly we never did find one. I at least got my wish to wear her pink feather boa though. I'd had my eyes on that all night (when I wasn't staring at her tits that is).
Much huffing and puffing followed outside as we decided on our next course of action. Me and Ramo went to collect her camera from security, the poor love already suffering from a sore leg. With the afterparty venue being a good 45 minute walk from The Point, trotting along down there was a complete no-no, so her and Angel got a taxi down instead. Who arranged it? Who else but Eamo naturally!
Now WTF was the name of the place?!!! Let's just call it 'Unpronounceable Tower' for arguments sake. Anybody we spoke to couldn't say the name of the damned place, but thankfully that was the only bad thing about it. It was a PERFECT place to go for a few bevs and a good chat, masterminded by Eamonn yet again of course.
On the way down I found much amusement with the 'Millennium Needle' or whatever its called, built 2 years AFTER 2000 I was informed! Priceless.
I also heard that an underground road to squeeze trucks and lorries off the streets of Dublin and ease congestion is currently being built, only for the project to encounter a SLIGHT problem.
They didn't build it tall enough to fit trucks and lorries in it.
To think they call the Irish stupid eh?
Anyways, I digress.
At the I$*!?^&* Tower I was blessed with the company of so many great folk, some of whose names elude me completely right now, but you know who you are! Erm...
Liz, Liam and mate, Miriam and hubby, Tomboy, Izzy, Viv (a particular fave of mine) DEmerson and his lady (I presume!), Debs, Blujean (a fellow Northerner I was pleased to learn) Ramo, Andy, Angel, Nemmie (lovely girl), Eamo (kindness personified), DiamondDave (whose boot recording of the show sounded very crisp through those headphones. Shame they were tiny though! lol) Andrew and many many more.
Late on I had the luck to come across (oooer!) Craig from the Manchester gig, and his mate Paul Mac with the BROADEST, most incoherent Glasweigan accent I've ever heard. And I thought MY accent was hard work! lol Still, great to meet you regardless!
It was a real shame that the party had to end at 3am (we'd only been drinking for three hours for gawds sake!). I was nagging Eamonn incessantly about whether there was anywhere else we could possibly go or not. Unfortunately only wine bars at 25 Euros a bottle. Nevermind.
Outside we had to wait for what seemed like an extra long eternity before some taxi's showed up. My blood-curdling rendition of 'Sweet Thing' seemed to baffle/entertain Angel though, whilst her socks got many a drunken Dubliners attention. Who WOULDN'T stop and stare?!
I hopped into a cab with Eamo and we were back at his place in no time at all. Unfortunately, I got the short straw and apparently the wrong bed. Angel and Ramo said there was plenty of room in theirs. Sigh...
Seems that Eamo and Liam got the short straw too, sharing a bed with me and my smelly feet. Hard luck lads! Cheesy or rosy? lol
I woke up the next morning with a tragic hangover and the sort of evil headache that almost (I said almost) convinces you to swear off drink for life. Me and Angel said our goodbyes to the ideal host that is Eamonn Zaidan (who else makes scrambled eggs for strangers at 4am?), and headed off to Dublin centre with Nemmie and Izzy, who were, at the ungodly hour of 10am, going to The Point to queue up again of course! Diehards or what? :-)
Trying to find a bus to the airport should have been easy (they're BRIGHT YELLOW for Christs sake!), but this is me and Angel we're talking about. A complete cock up! We waited at one stop for about half an hour before we both got freaked out by some weirdo wearing a Scouser perm wig, shouting something about Bertie Ahern at passers by, and so moved on with haste. You would too believe me!
Everybody we asked gave us conflicting directions, almost as if they wanted to just get us out of their face. Hmmm...
Luckily, we managed to get to the airport eventually, although the bus driver seemed to have a different idea, stopping the thing by a field nowhere near the airport and then looking utterly perplexed when we asked him to carry on driving. Odd to say the least. Very very odd? That's more like it.
There was time for us both to eat the worst sandwiches of all time (mine looked like there was seaweed and man juice on it) before we headed off to our departure gates and on our separate ways, both dreaming of bacon double cheeseburgers from Burger King.
All in all, an absolutely fantastic 24 hours, with London and more frolics to come!
To be continued? maybe, if I can be arsed. ;-)
Until next time...
27th November 2003.
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