jooles34 | Ramblings from a road trip, visit to Cardiff and Blue Gillespie gig (Reply)

This contains ramblings about my road trip, my first visit to Cardiff and the bluegillespie gig; as well as gig snobbery and some naughty words.

Knowing about the Cardiff bluegillespie gig for some time, I had decided that, as much as I wanted to, I wasn’t going to go. It was too far to go again after the Glasgow gig and I really didn’t have the money. I was however very jealous of everyone I knew that was going. Then on Wednesday I found out that two of the people closest to me in the world had been betraying me and lying to me for four months. Not to mention the few other of my friends who knew what was going on but did nothing to make sure I was clued in. Won’t go into full story as all of you that follow me on Twitter have already been through this. Save to say I have been happier.

So that was why, between crying fits, I decided on Thursday that what I really needed was a big old fun time, a healthy dose of silliness and to spend time with people who were lovely and just going to let the good times roll. So I booked a ticket to the gig, and decided that the most sensible course of action was to drive to Cardiff Friday afternoon and home again after the gig. Yes you read that right; most sensible. Essentially I wanted to save money anywhere I could. That and I am weirdly good at being nocturnal so didn’t think it would be a problem.

So Friday lunchtime I set off to Cardiff. I had a boot full of sleeping bags in case I did get tired on way home and needed to pull into the services for a nap. I also had an overnight bag as the lovely shamazipan had said I may be able to stay in their hotel with them if I didn’t fancy driving back. On top of this was a change of clothes and Sainsbury’s carrier bag full of munchies. I have little concept of travelling light.

The motorway was slow. I shan’t dull you too much but ultimately a three hour journey took more than five. And it rained. Rained, rained, rained and rained some more. For most of the journey my windscreen wipers were the only thing keeping me company. After three hours of driving I was only at Reading and decided that I was going to push on through and see how far I could get without needing to stop. However my car apparently had different ideas and I swear turned off at the KFC services sign all by itself. No, really.

So 15 mins later and rather more full of chicken that I had been earlier, I set off into the rain again. About four hours in I started to go a bit stir crazy at being in the car on my own for so long. It was about this time that the windscreen wipers were named Roger and Derek. (for info, Derek is quite grumpy, Roger is a much better conversationalist).

Eventually I got towards the Severn Bridge. This is admittedly when I started to get a little over excited and possibly mildly hysterical. I did of course make sure to inform Derek and Roger that I had currency and had had my injections. The excitement continued at this level when I passed the welcome to Wales sign too. I was very glad to be alone in the car at this point…though there’s a possibility that I may have reached a pitch of squeak that only dogs could hear.

So, I am finally in Cardiff. This is when things got really stupid. I had decided that seeing as I was coming to Cardiff, even though I didn’t have much time, I was going to make sure I went to the Bay. So I headed straight there and parked up. Now, this was when it went from raining to RAINING. Biblical rain, and windy too; so windy. So while everyone else is very sensibly sheltering from the rain there I am, huddled inside my pac-a-mac (always prepared, me), with the hood done up tightly around my face like only little kids and old people do, wandering around the Plass looking like an idiot. Taking photos. And trying to restrain myself from jumping up and down on a certain paving slap next to a certain water tower. I got thoroughly soaked and my feet were still squelchy some hours later.

But it was cool to see places for real that are so familiar from the screen. And I look forward to going back sometime and being able to spend a little longer walking around and maybe getting some pics that don’t have rain splodges on them.

Now, when I had parked my car I had parked it on an empty floor of the car park as I wanted to get changed in the car before heading to the venue. However it turned out that I had parked shortly before a show was due at the Millennium Centre and by the time I got back to my car the floor was full. As were the others. This then meant that I had to get changed while avoiding giving not only the CCTV operators a good show, but now the general passing public as well. And preferably without getting arrested for public indecency. Not doing that again.

Now anyone who has got this far may be wondering something, and yes, I do. I do in fact have a little voice that occasionally pops up, taps me on the shoulder and says “Hello, um, excuse me Jooles, I’m sorry to interrupt when you are clearly very busy, but, um, just what the fuck are you doing?” This happened at this point. Fortunately I am very adept at ignoring this voice. Even more fortunately I am quite double jointed so the change was managed with minimal excitement to the general populous.

Thus changed and make-up badly done in the rear-view mirror I headed to the gig. Walking in I forgot about the whole ticket thing and had to be dragged back to the ticket table by Nick. Oopsie. Then Gareth appeared out of nowhere, grabbed my hand and, after a shirt wrestle with an uncooperative glove, stamped it. I remained conscious, remembered how to breathe and used a coherent sentence. Fangirl win.

Once in I met up with the adorable akogare (roomie from Glasgow) and Tessa (soon to be roomie at Hub 4). After a quick catch up I also met up with lovelies shamazipan, Marie and Leanne. Was great to see everyone and throughout the night I was given plenty of hugs which was just what I needed.

After some chatting, catching up and comparing of journeys the first support act came on. Now I was brought up that if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all, so I’ll just say that Marie and I went for a tactical smoke break. The second band Spiridion where much better; enjoyed their music and as a band they were very tight. Even the bassist’s guitar strap breaking part way through a song barely broke their stride.

After a short break Blue Gillespie came on. As much as I enjoyed the Glasgow gig this was better in many ways as I had been able to listen to the album online for a couple of days and familiarise myself with the songs. There is always something special about listening to the opening bars of a song and being able to say “I like this one.” Marie and I both got to hear our favourite album tracks played so were made happy.

The band were crackin’. I really enjoyed the gig, the album sounds great live and I’ll def be making the effort to see them again. London anyone? I’m shockingly bad at reviews I’m afraid “I really enjoyed it” is about the best you’ll get out of me.

But there is gig snobbery.

I get that a lot of the people that go to Blue Gillespie gigs have discovered the band through Torchwood fandom and being fans of Gareth. Super. That’s how I discovered the band too. And I’m pleased I did as I prob wouldn’t have found them any other way. And it’s great that people want to go to the gigs and support him/them. However, if you have just gone to the gig to look at the pretty man from the tele and don’t give a shit about the music, please fuck off to the back. Leave the space at the front for those of us who appreciate them as musicians and have gone there to be taken by the music. We want to feel and experience the music and dance without an impenetrable wall of stoically not moving, disinterested people between us and the band. This is simple gig etiquette. You wouldn’t stand in front of the stage for any other band if you didn’t like the music. Don’t do it here.

Sorry for the rant, but live music is important to me and I get wound up when it’s not appreciated. My only other negative comment about the gig is that the venue didn’t suit that band anything like as well as the Vale in Glasgow had.

So, pics. I only have two of the actual gig. Both fairly poor, one total pants. This is partly because I forgot I had my camera until the last song, and partly because I tend to listen, and especially dance, to music with my eyes shut (I feel we have already established I’m weird. This should now not be news to you.) I just find that I feel the music more with my eyes closed so that’s what tends to happen. However, it is not very conducive to taking a good picture.

Gig over, I left Cardiff about midnight and it started to rain again (hello again Roger and Derek,) but other than that the journey was uneventful for some time.

Then I stopped for coffee and petrol. Again this was reasonably uneventful, though I scared the bejeezus out of the coffee shop guy when I walked into the otherwise deserted café. He did perk up quite quickly though and seemed pleased to have someone to talk to for a few minutes. As was I, as Roger and Derek were starting to bore me. The petrol station guy on the other hand was distinctly unperky.

A short time later I ended up in roadworks again with more speed limitations. I started bemoaning the situation to Thomas my sat sav (look people, nine hours alone in a car - give a girl a break) and was asking why they still have to have the speed restrictions on in the middle of the night when there are no roadcrews working to worry about. At that moment the motorway gantry sign flashed up “speed limits remain in place for your safety.” I cannot even begin to explain how much this freaked out my now caffeine addled brain. Psychic motorway signs? Too much. Despite the brief moment of thinking it was cool that I was in my own version of LA Story, I then spent the rest of the journey terrified that I would see a sign that would tell me I had to have sex with Sarah-Jessica Parker. *shudder*

I was parked on the M25 for a little while as the road was closed after an accident but afterwards I had a fabulous little while of bazzing down the almost deserted motorway singing songs from my upcoming panto at full volume.

I got home at about 3.30am. In total I was on the road for nine hours. I was in Cardiff for five and a half. But they were a rocking five and a half hours and totally worth it.

So, is there a moral to this story? Actually there are three:

There’s nothing you can’t get past if you surround yourself with good and decent people.
Nothing is too silly if you have enough fun doing it.
You should never believe anything I say about my criminal record…except for the thing about the sheep. You can believe that ;o)