Friday morning...eww. Talita has just left our guest house to catch her plane back to the U.K and I’m in a taxi back to the Legacy Festival VIP entrance to dump my stuff at my new digs for the next couple of nights, a motor home with three smelly and hung over sleeping men. Bugger. On the bright side, the day is looking to be a fine one, the sun is beating down which allows me the opportunity of sitting on the step to our motor home chain smoking and downing water with the door open till the guys wake up and get up. Watching the world go by has always been a favourite past time of mine but it has to said it is so much sweeter when it’s backstage at a Metal festival and there’s loads of burly crew stomping back and forth, back and forth.
Ben is the first and only up, and after banging about inside for what feels like forever he is as ready as he’s ever going to be and we venture out on to the site with trepidation to check out the state of the stall. Let me explain... German weather. We wish we had weather like that. I get the feeling they actually have designated seasons rather than grey interspersed with hot grey and some more grey. See, it was hot and sunny when we were there, but properly, not U.K half arsed style. And because of this there were thunderstorms. Proper fucking thunderstorms. Talita and I were woken up by lightening that was so close it seemed to come in to our room that morning. The thunder, though you knew it was coming would still make you jump and freeze up every time it crackled. This was not just a thunder storm; this was a German thunder storm!
The stall had fortunately been swathed in tarpaulin the night before and apart from the two swimming pools on the roof it seemed unharmed. We pushed that off, re-stocked and started selling. A slow morning, by the end of which we had both had a couple of beers ‘hare of the dog’ innit, just to see us through and pick us up. It’s not alcoholism if it’s at a festival don’t you know. In fact it would be rude not to frankly.
Now listen, don’t get the wrong impression. Sitting on our stall like a couple of Nam vets we were not. We were catching joke after joke, watching the world go by, conversing with the other stall holders who I got the impression were completely mystified by us. Everything was just slowed down a touch was all, all a bit steady, no sudden movements.
Lyoll and Morgan joined us looking very bashful at gone lunch, us having allowed this lie in to happen thinking that we were totally adding up guilt points that we could use to our advantage at a later date. Which of course was now. Booze run. See, the day before had been a bank holiday so we were out of fags and out of booze.
60 Euros later and the foragers returned looking dead chuffed with themselves. No bread was bought, no milk. Just copious amounts of cheap liqueur, huge bottles of spirits, mixers, six pack upon six pack of beers and cider and a couple of bags of sweets and tobacco. Ooh Friday night is shaping up to be a good one. I seem to have a pattern already, steadily drink beer till about 6pm to keep the hangover at bay, 6pm comes along and so do the spirits.
Friday night turns out to be quite eventful. At the risk of banging on about the weather too much, it hit us again with full clout at around 10pm that night. The stall literally left the ground and suddenly rain was pelting down and random people were clambering under the shelter of our stall while we desperately hung on to it. Soon enough we pulled the front covers down and a small party transpired right there under our noses. There were guys hanging on to the stall frame, the front covers and a blow up doll?! Everyone was chattering away and laughing in disbelief at the whole shebang and word got to us quickly that the main stage had partly collapsed and the power was gone. At this, half of us crawled out and turned round the corner and just stood there staring. The whole back of the stage had indeed collapsed. Instead there was a stormy night sky being slashed by rain. Fucking awesome to look at when you’re drunk I tell you.
I can’t tell you what happened to the stall after that, I guess it was closed up for the night. See I ended up wandering backstage to see all the madness happening and catch the buzz that was everywhere and ended up bumping in to old time friend Sharlee, bassist from Arch Enemy and Daniel the drummer, who’s birthday it was. Before I knew we were downing sangria and causing mayhem all over the backstage area. They played their set on the main stage much to the surprise of everyone who thought that was gone for good, and I got to watch from the side and feel all better than everyone else which is always nice when you’re shallow like me.
Further drinking and clambering around the site ensued and I managed to get myself an invite to a crew hotel room and so avoid the motor home for one more night. Sweet. What happened to the guys? I can barely recall what happened to me.I will tell you this, vomitting did happen, passing out did happen and making out did happen. We fucking rock!
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