Commissaires of Pointless Distensions,
The wind blew as strong as it did all year; gusts of 100 mph were recorded. Being spring, the trees were fully leaved and a risk to those within radius. I was on a mission to receive the keys of the flat I am renting; this involved a journey from the Kingdom of Fife to the city of Aberdeen up the A90.
Sticks flew at me as I travelled and I used the window wipers to remove leaves and buds from my view. Looking to be on time for my appointment, I once again fell into ‘the hare trap’. I have a habit of doing this: because I may not know where I am going, I leave with plenty of time to spare, I seem like am well ahead of schedule so I stop for a snack or the like, then I get back on route only to become lost, panic-ridden and nearly late. I wasn’t really late on this occasion; I drove past my destination with 15 minutes to spare but found nowhere immediate to park. I ended up parking around 20 minutes away on foot, or at least it was that far after wandering further away and then becoming lost. I ran. Running was difficult in the wind, especially with paperwork. I did have a map and being lost, I approached a man, however, he seemed intent on wrestling the map and all my documents from me. I held out the map and asked him to point to our current location but he wanted to grip. I did motion to rotate the map to help him gain our bearings but he wanted to grasp. I ran after he pointed me in a rough direction. I sat hot and uncomfortable as the paperwork was completed at the estate agents and then off we went to my abode.
After completing this act, I then began my descent into madness. I was going home, only I had this ticket to the Villagers gig that evening in Embra; I had bought the ticket on the premise that I might go, having to visit Aberdeen made me less likely to attend. The news on the radio said that both the Tay and Forth bridges were closed due to the wind and callers had informed the station that both Kincardine bridges were suffering severe traffic. As it stood, I was going home and given the travel chaos, I would stay home. I veered towards Perth to cross the Tay and to refuel. On reaching Perth, the warning light was on and panic had once again beset me – the first road into the town was closed due to a weather-related accident. I pulled over to ask the policeman where I could refuel and I was told. I was none the wiser as I didn’t know where this place was and I doubted Sat-Nav would either. I call my Sat-Nav ‘Pat-Nev’ - both are outdated but I still respect them. I drove on and by chance, I found these services. I decided to have a coffee as time was wearing on and I had had no food or drink since breakfast and it was now past 1830 hrs. On returning to the car, I consulted the atlas and did some Sat-Nav sums. I worked out that I had a chance of arriving around 2000 hrs in Embra via the Kincardine Bridge. I thought that I may as well go since I was already in the car. The travel bulletin had said there were tailbacks at the bridge but one texter had said that if approached from the right direction that it was plain sailing. I decided to test it; if I could reach the bridge easily then I would attend the gig. If not, I would go home and read about it in a blog.
I rolled up to and across the bridge smoothly and I thought I was in luck. A mile along and my plans were in turmoil, traffic had come to a standstill as a lorry had overturned and three lanes of back-to-back cars funnelled into one. Once clear, Pat-Nev estimated that I could arrive at 2100 hrs, and after parking up, I entered the Liquid Room ten minutes later.
Conor arrived on stage a few minutes later by himself. He played a few songs with only his guitar for sparse accompaniment. Gradually, the band takes shape. A couple of songs follow where he is joined by a chap at the keyboard and then another three; on drums, guitar and bass. I was glad once the band was complete, the chatterboxes were drowned out. Conor was great on his own; he has such a lucid voice that he could support any story by himself, and he did some interesting versions of the songs from Becoming a Jackal, but, for me, the chatterboxes didn’t pay him any respect whilst solo.
The band played for nearly 90 minutes and I thought it a strong achievement for a band with only one album in their repertoire. The future does indeed promise much more given the number of new songs that were enjoyed by most at the Liquid Room that evening.
The gig ended and I ran back to the car. Pat-Nev was again in control and in an Embra bewildered by a potential tram system. I drove round and round, in the wrong lane most of the time, until I was eventually spun out of the city. The radio said that I could use the Forth Bridge and I arrived home just before the next day. It would be another week before I recovered from these mishaps.
Sticks flew at me as I travelled and I used the window wipers to remove leaves and buds from my view. Looking to be on time for my appointment, I once again fell into ‘the hare trap’. I have a habit of doing this: because I may not know where I am going, I leave with plenty of time to spare, I seem like am well ahead of schedule so I stop for a snack or the like, then I get back on route only to become lost, panic-ridden and nearly late. I wasn’t really late on this occasion; I drove past my destination with 15 minutes to spare but found nowhere immediate to park. I ended up parking around 20 minutes away on foot, or at least it was that far after wandering further away and then becoming lost. I ran. Running was difficult in the wind, especially with paperwork. I did have a map and being lost, I approached a man, however, he seemed intent on wrestling the map and all my documents from me. I held out the map and asked him to point to our current location but he wanted to grip. I did motion to rotate the map to help him gain our bearings but he wanted to grasp. I ran after he pointed me in a rough direction. I sat hot and uncomfortable as the paperwork was completed at the estate agents and then off we went to my abode.
After completing this act, I then began my descent into madness. I was going home, only I had this ticket to the Villagers gig that evening in Embra; I had bought the ticket on the premise that I might go, having to visit Aberdeen made me less likely to attend. The news on the radio said that both the Tay and Forth bridges were closed due to the wind and callers had informed the station that both Kincardine bridges were suffering severe traffic. As it stood, I was going home and given the travel chaos, I would stay home. I veered towards Perth to cross the Tay and to refuel. On reaching Perth, the warning light was on and panic had once again beset me – the first road into the town was closed due to a weather-related accident. I pulled over to ask the policeman where I could refuel and I was told. I was none the wiser as I didn’t know where this place was and I doubted Sat-Nav would either. I call my Sat-Nav ‘Pat-Nev’ - both are outdated but I still respect them. I drove on and by chance, I found these services. I decided to have a coffee as time was wearing on and I had had no food or drink since breakfast and it was now past 1830 hrs. On returning to the car, I consulted the atlas and did some Sat-Nav sums. I worked out that I had a chance of arriving around 2000 hrs in Embra via the Kincardine Bridge. I thought that I may as well go since I was already in the car. The travel bulletin had said there were tailbacks at the bridge but one texter had said that if approached from the right direction that it was plain sailing. I decided to test it; if I could reach the bridge easily then I would attend the gig. If not, I would go home and read about it in a blog.
I rolled up to and across the bridge smoothly and I thought I was in luck. A mile along and my plans were in turmoil, traffic had come to a standstill as a lorry had overturned and three lanes of back-to-back cars funnelled into one. Once clear, Pat-Nev estimated that I could arrive at 2100 hrs, and after parking up, I entered the Liquid Room ten minutes later.
Conor arrived on stage a few minutes later by himself. He played a few songs with only his guitar for sparse accompaniment. Gradually, the band takes shape. A couple of songs follow where he is joined by a chap at the keyboard and then another three; on drums, guitar and bass. I was glad once the band was complete, the chatterboxes were drowned out. Conor was great on his own; he has such a lucid voice that he could support any story by himself, and he did some interesting versions of the songs from Becoming a Jackal, but, for me, the chatterboxes didn’t pay him any respect whilst solo.
The band played for nearly 90 minutes and I thought it a strong achievement for a band with only one album in their repertoire. The future does indeed promise much more given the number of new songs that were enjoyed by most at the Liquid Room that evening.
The gig ended and I ran back to the car. Pat-Nev was again in control and in an Embra bewildered by a potential tram system. I drove round and round, in the wrong lane most of the time, until I was eventually spun out of the city. The radio said that I could use the Forth Bridge and I arrived home just before the next day. It would be another week before I recovered from these mishaps.
posted by Leif at 7:50 PM
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