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I wake up at the student house in Nottingham on the other side of the
River Trent in West Bridgeford and grab a shower before leaving for a
walk. On my way out the door I see Jonny curled on the floor beneath
the downstairs steps. That’s a real pity. Leaving the room upstairs I
gave that pile of blankets next to me a shove and found it to be just
that -- a pile of blankets -- meaning Jonny could have had an actual bed
to sleep on and a room that didn't get bathed in sunlight at the
crack of dawn.

I sit on the concrete steps leading down to the River Trent a while,
watching people walk alongside the water. The large ornate gates of
Victoria Embankment adorn the bank across the river and a suspension
bridge spans the two sides. It's serene and quiet and exactly what I
need. Walking into around the neighborhood there's a garden walk and a
playground for children.

We're near Bridgford Road, with a library as well as plenty of
bookshops and bakeries, and I probably spend around an hour and a half
walking around the neighborhood. At some point I run into Stevie and
Karen who are also up wandering. At a market I buy a baguette, a
coffee and something called a Gooseberry Fool that comes in a small
cup. I though it might be something like yogurt, but peeling of the lid
reveals a solid white mass speckled with green fruit. Walking back we
run into Eddie and I show him to the market and get a spoon off the
girl selling coffee. The Fool turns out to be pretty delicious or at
least it does until I check the ingredients and see that it's
apparently packed with Pork Gelatin -- at which point I become slightly
nauseous and throw it away.

Rogier meets up with us at the house and we go back to the venue to
pack up our things and hit the road to Leeds.

Nation of Shopkeepers is a relatively new bar at the corner of Great
George and Cookridge streets in the middle of Leeds. It sits about a
block away from the City Museum and Millennium Square on one side and
the Leeds Art Gallery on the other. Not that you asked, but “Nation of
Shopkeers” is a reference to a Napoleonic slag on England. As we have
some time before we can load in Mike, Daisy, Stevie, Karen and I take
a walk around the city. Most of the shops are closed now but the
downtown is attractive and has plenty to see like the Town Hall and
City Council.

Coming back to the club we load in and meet up with the promoter, Ash,
an enthusiastic and genuinely curious man who proves willing to bend
over backwards for us. After discovering I like Sailor Jerry's rum he
endeavors to keep me well-stocked for the night. We run through a
soundcheck and the bar serves us dinner.

Ash has set up a free night with three bands and expects it to turn
out well -- and he's right, the place gets packed. The first band Dead
Reckoning has horns and sounds a bit like Rocket from the Crypt.
Stevie really gets into them and even picks up a CD. The next band
Castrovalva features an incredibly high-pitched singer named Lee. He's
an extremely nice guy I met earlier when I got a copy of a small book
he had made full of his art. He's a big guy with curly hair, very
funny and creative. He reminds me of someone else I know back in
Scranton and it makes me miss The Sw!ms something fierce. His band is
incredibly rocking and really gets the crowd going.

Now it's our turn. It's already hot in here, and the floor is slick
with beer and sweat. We couldn't have asked for a better night -- the
crowd is raucous and crazy and every other song sends an avalanche of
people tumbling into us knocking out pedals and power cables. Eddie
jumps on and off speaker stacks and Stevie's bass drum. Other times I
raise my head up to look, and he's nowhere to be found. We end a
blazing set by passing the mic off to Lee to add some impromptu
supersonic vocals over top of all the chaos.

We pack up our equipment into a secure corner of the backstage and
finish our drinks while the DJ plays some great rock and roll and the
bar begins to fill with a post-show crowd.

Outside the city is beginning to go mad. One of the local universities
has had a commencement today, and so the streets are starting to fill
with crazy drunks. At the intersection outside a big muscular man
rounds the corner, his face and shirt covered in blood. A friend is
behind him, in similar condition. A moment later comes their attacker,
but instead of a raging mob it's just a skinny lad wearing a
determined scowl -- and the robes of a Catholic Cardinal! They all
disappear around another corner, and after a while the padre returns
alone and tends to a girl crying with her friends on a stoop. Whatever
the explanation to this series of events is, it can't be better than
what I've dreamed up for it, so I don't want to hear it!

We're leaving the unloaded van and walking to the hotel tonight, a
fact about which Jay and Jonny are not exactly stoked. After all, if
the priests around here kick so much ass, imagine what the thugs could
do!

About 15 minutes later we've reached the hotel safe and sound in
a somewhat roundabout fashion and everyone is feeling a bit better.
Rogier, Eddie and I take a room together and I go down to the lobby to
call Anna and chat for a while. Its great to hear her voice, and I'm
still working on the free minutes on the SIM card, meaning it's
already a bargain over searching for call centers.

Upstairs Eddie and Rogier are already in dreamland. I take a shower
and join them.
 

About the Author

Phillip Price is the keyboard player for Wilkes-Barre-based band An Albatross.

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