I don’t think anyone slept well on the majestic Galaxy. The pillow we each had disappeared under any weight and the bunks were well uncomfortable. This is coming form a bunch of people who have just spent the last week sleeping in a motor home you know! Of course it didn’t matter all that much, we had to be up and out by 6 AM and in our vehicles waiting to pull out.
Finland. Land of crazy Metal heads and expensive booze. And Moomins most importantly. I bet Moomins fucking love Metal. They must do, probably black metal or some such kind. A Moomin mosh pit. Now there’s a thing to see. I might get that tattooed on me next time I’m drunk.
Sorry, I digress. We are now in Finland. Ol is asleep, shockingly, Mike has taken himself off to Matt’s bunk and Lyall is at the wheel. Matt, Ben and me are chewing the cud.
We reach an interesting conundrum and a realisation that none of us ever thought of. After talking about having sisters and brothers and how much you used to fight when you were younger it comes to our attention that sister hitting is really the only acceptable form of physical violence towards women.
Like, if you were to say “oh yeah me and my sister had a massive fight and I chucked my drink over her so she kicked me in the nads, so I jumped her and Chinese burned the fuck out of that bitch and wacked her upside her stupid fucking head”, you wouldn’t be shocked and like ‘what the fuck ’ at all right? But if you were like “ oh yeah me mum slapped me cause I was rude to her so I slapped her about a bit”. Not o.k. Same goes for “I beat my girlfriend / daughter / Nan / any woman. But your sis’ is o.k. Weird.
We all sit there with furrowed brows thinking this through for a while before committing to standing by such an outlandish claim, but I think we are all quite confident that for some bizarre reason it is indeed o.k. to be physically violent towards a woman as long as she is your sister.
Even more shocking than this sudden realisation is Matt has a can of cider. It is 7 AM ish and Matt and Mike are drinking cider. Wonders never cease. God I’m fucking proud.
After this I take me self off to bed. Ha! Not because I was so shocked and outraged by the sister-beating thing, was just feeling a bit sleepy is all and have a big night ahead.
I tried the bunk above the drivers seat and found it surprisingly comfortable, like being in a little tree house. It had always looked well claustrophobic but now I’m pissed I can’t sleep up there all the time. The boys are all still talking and fucking about with music. We had gone through all of the Bill Hicks that Lyall had on his ipod in Sweden and were back on to random song changing. I stretched out with my Lester Bangs book and after a couple of pages gave up and shut my eyes.
When I woke we were parked outside the venue in Helsinki and the guys were getting their stuff together to go for a wander. Ben needed a new drum skin and all of them wanted to bask in the glory of unbearably hot women everywhere. I was all snug in my bunk so fucked it off and left them to they’re boy time.
When they got back I was over the whole bunk thing and itching to get out with cabin fever setting in so off we went back out to a Metal shop they had found with a signed copy of the new C.D to give to them and some flyers to litter the town with. Dunno why, tonight is sold out motherfuckers!
We bump in to the singer from Amon Amarth, who has just bought himself some bed linen for the night rider they are all on cause apparently the sheets are “scratchy”. Awesome.
After hanging out at the Metal shop for a bit, we stroll back to the venue to unload but see the pecking order has changed my friends. Evile are now opening not headlining, bottom of the ladder so to speak.
This means we cannot unload till the other two bands have, obviously Evile sound check is last and we cannot eat till they have eaten. We meet the tour manager, Wolfgang, who seems pretty cool and definitely knows his shit. He wants to know who is in charge and so Lyall goes off with him to see the dressing room and get the lowdown. We will not directly communicate anything to Wolfgang but will go through Lyall. This is to avoid confusion, not because he is a cock. He isn’t, this is just a really good level of organisation and professionalism. What a fucking winner. I already like him.
Our dressing room is the laundry room. Sweet, we get all our sweaty clothes and take the opportunity to do a bit of washing! The rider is lots of beer and a bottle of vodka for Mike, the bassist. Mike is going to get fucked up tonight. Hell yeah he is.
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