Wednesday, 10 July 2013

Glastonbury 2013

What the fuck is wrong with me, It's Tuesday and I'm heading for Glastonbury until the following Tuesday
I'll be sleeping on the cold hard ground in a fucking tent slobbering around in the muck  with three hundred thousand  others. I have to say I love the complete sensory overload that is Glastonbury, but for me the toilet situation was a big problem. I learned a lot about myself in the Glastonbury loo. For the first three days I couldn't go at all and then I was bursting but the moment I went in the toilet I couldn't go. And for the first couple of days the loos were not even that bad, but there's no loo like your own loo, right! Eventually, desperation got the better of me and I could try three or four toilets before settling on one that I could use, and only then whilst holding my nose. after doing the biz I would end up almost falling out the door gagging, and gasping for air. It occurred to me that standards change when you live in a field for a week, as I made a cheese sandwich using a wellington boot as a handy sort of work station for my ingredients.

The sun shone for most of the time , and we had our gigs in the fluffy rock cafĂ©, and thanks to Darren I had a lend of a lovely fender bassman. Dennis just Dennis was a great MC, and a renowned poet and hopeless romantic the world needs more of those,and we found a lovely place to get curry called Ghandis flipflop so we ate there everyday. I met this mad welsh fella who came over wanting a photo with the beard, like it was a prize winning sheep or something. He told me he was from North Wales and that his Prince was not Charles but Owen Glendower of course I was lapping this up, I love the fact that Owen Glendower lived in the 15th century, Then a strange English bloke joined into the conversation, It was surreal, when the English guy wouldn't admit to being English, he said he was from all over, from lots of different places then he entertained me by telling me loads of Paddy jokes, I swear I didn't know whether to laugh or beat him around the place with one of his berkinstocks. But I'm a lover not a fighter so I left it off.

We met loads of our Cavan pals and it really made it nice for us to hook up with them and I got interviewed by some confused people when I told them that I was Keith Allen, lived in Monaghan, bred rare pigs, and used to run the flatlakes festival, but packed it in cos every other bugger decided to put on a festival when mine was on. I think they nearly believed me.

Now I'm not one for exercise unless its exercising my mouth, so all the walking around had a devastating effect on my feet, which resembled a couple of hams after a few days, and I finally saw shangrila  but nearly had to get a piggy back from Sharon O Brien to get back to the tent.

By the loos, there was a tap for people to fill water bottles and some folks were showering under them too, I was filling my water bottle  and saw a pair of togs on the ground, Some one said" My goodness the water pressure is really strong"" I know" I said" look it blew the knickers off someone".

A high point was getting to see the stones, I was expecting them to be a shadow of their former selves, but they were fantastic, and the songs are great. I was never in such a massive crowd there must have been over a hundred thousand people watching the stones, our pals Jimmy and Pat spent hours waiting up the front for the stones and I heard some lunatic had a piss on loads of people in the audience, glad it wasn't near where I was.
Security was very high, when entering and leaving the festival, an when you wanted to get stuff from your car they checked your wrist band and I nearly got into a fight with some security guy cos I thought he was trying to take my wristband instead of just checking it. Everyone thought it was very amusing, but I wasn't fucking laughing.

When our gigs were all over there was a ban on vehicles driving around the site so we had to carry all our stuff out to the car park using a trolly and a wheel barrow it was a tough going and on the way back I gave Mark from the Fluffy Rock gang a spin on the trolly. Then he gave me a spin on the trolly, which was much funnier as I'm twenty stone and he was wearing flipflops then we had a race with Russ who was pushing the wheel barrow which was good fun, although it could have ended in tears.

 Any way it work out fine and we left glasto, at three am on Monday morning and headed for Salisbury to see Stonehenge before we went home, but when we got there the road was blocked and that was that. I heard a rumor that they did this in anticipation of people coming from Glastonbury and that they don't like that sort around their national monuments. I couldn't help thinking if it were Ireland they would be fellas flogging you Wexford strawberries for a five mile radius ,and when you got in they would have made another few bob out of you,  by the time you'd have seen any old stones, you would have  pain in your hand from lashing out, but at least we're not SNOBS!!!

Anyway Glastonbury is the real deal, and we loved it, I hope we get to go again next year

Tuesday, 11 June 2013

Limavady jazz and blues what can I say Northern Ireland is beautiful in the sunshine,
we were told that we had to get all our stuff in before eight as the streets were going to be
closed off for the “parade”.  So we dropped off the gear and checked into our hotel and
asked the lady at the desk about the parade “was it for the festival,?”we asked” would there
be like, majorettes and floats and so forth?” The poor woman didn't know what to say she
just looked at us as if we were dumber than a bag of hammers, and then the penny dropped.
It wasn't that sort of parade. We headed in and parked up, and watched as band after
marching band went down the street, there wasn't a sinner to be seen apart from us and the
police making sure everything was ok. No one cared as fifty bands  went round the roads for
hours and hours banging there drums, no one watched, no one gave a shit!
And we went to the giants causeway, because it was so near us and looking now at the photos we all
know where the pies went ,  we met Cara Rose and Cormac, and ate loads of ice cream.  I got up today and went outside, what is this stuff falling on me from the sky, Oh yes I remember now, rain.

Monday, 3 June 2013


My son and I were driving home the other day and saw a mink run across the road, I think
they were brought in to the country so people could make fur coats out of them.but they
somehow got loose and bred in the wild. Very nice looking but you wouldn't fancy one
shooting up the leg of your pants.

 Gev and Stephen got up to Ballyshannon of the Friday
and had a great time in the marquee with Johnny Gallagher Bundoran’s most famous son
and Christian Volksmann who often sits in with us and is a black belt on the harmonica and
a damn nice fella At the gables.The Mark Black band was first up,It was great to be able to
sit in the street and have the craic, Oh and it wasn’t pissing rain like it usually is in an Irish
outdoor event, Then we did our turn, the audience was great and a big thanks to Mark and
co for letting us use their stuff.
The next day I parked the van in a lane near the owen roe, I thought this was fierce handy for loading in later, after a few hours I came back to find it sitting in a lake of piss, I’d left it just far enough away from the wall for folks to be able to go to the loo and preserve their modesty, I even pass it at one stage and there was a handbag up on the windscreen with a hand still attached belonging to someone stooping down behind
our van, It would have been a good idea to have had  armitage shanks printed on the side.
We met Rob and Dan, they liked our band so much they were plotting to take me and
Stephen out, Rob had already learned two of our songs and Dan who just started learning
the bass badly wanted Stephen Aerodine, Gev was safe as they needed a drummer and
they knew not to mess with the Barretts.  We met a big crew from Kilcullen and had laugh
and met up with our pals jimmy and pat from Cavan who know where the best Italian cuisine
was to be had in ballyshannon, which we had alfresco, which means we had fish and chips
sitting on some steps in the street, The Rory fest was insane, and everyone thought they
needed a liver transplant after it.

Monday, 27 May 2013

Mullingar and Warrenpoint Blues on the Bay weekend.

Well there we were off to the life festival armed to the teeth with enough boxes of wine
and flagons of cider to make diagio throw in the towel with the responsible drinking ads.  ,
We didn't bother with the ould car park instead opting to abandon the van in the temporary
drop off point, Grand and handy, for bringing in all the gear and escaping after. We were
playing on the human music stage, and had a lovely time hanging around by the lake, until
Stephen started a stone skimming competition and half the country were fecking rocks into
the lake.
We did our gig it was great crack. After I met this Canadian young fella who had
recorded the gig and had some curious problems going on with his lips. Then I was tired and
decided to go to bed,in my tent, where I came to the conclusion that I hate fucking camping!
Of course camping at a dance festival is like camping in a war zone, no wonder people take
drugs. Stephen and Gev went off into the night and legend has it that no matter how old
you get rolling down a big hill all night is still great entertainment. Oh and they found some
thrones and a statue of a lion  where they had a great time pretending they were in Narnia.
The next day we went to our Pat Freemans for stew it was a nice change from the
chips,and somewhere along the line we acquire a bottle of poiteen for rubbing down the
greyhounds!’We played Daly’s in Mullingar and got towels to mop up our sweat very nice,
Then we were off to Warren point. Where they DO accept euros but don’t give you any
FUCKING CHANGE. We caught  a bit of Pat Macmanus’s  (Who is a guitar god) set and I
bought some T-shirts and stuff from Mrs Pat who is wonderful!.We did our gig and it was like
Charlies on a Saturday night, which for those of you that don’t know what I’m talking about,
is a good thing?  When it was all over I hit the road for Cork and the boys, went looking for
Carvin motherfuckin Jones to get Carvinated which they did.
By the way the best way to keep awake on the long drive home after the gig is to get the hottest coffee you can buy and spill all over your crotch.