A mild night in Camden
Dec. 17th, 2005 02:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Just as homeless workers are often dodgily housed and drug and alcohol workers fond of the odd bevy ‘n’ spliff, people who work with children are highly childish, and the school Christmas dinner (2nd serving, no teachers or kids) degenerates into an admin vs kitchen staff throwing things across the room fight until I’m convinced the Headteacher is going to come in and give us all an Incident Report. Wobble home and then out again to the fin de siecle Purple Turtle (or it would be if it hadn’t been taken over by Camden scenesters and crusties) for the soundcheck. Christmas is in the air in Camden and there is already a queue forming outside Koko as we go out to Sainsburys for sandwiches and magic mushroom medleys which the bouncer Door Operative wants to examine as we try to go back in. “You haven’t got any drugs have you?” he asks suspiciously, peering through our bags.
Everytime a Fairy(Tale of New York) sings, Shane MacGowan can buy another gin. We’re not covering that song though, Rainy Night in Soho is our Christmas song this eventide. Last time we did a Christmas gig, in fact the last time we played a UK gig, back in Dec 2003, we did a cover of River by Joni Mitchell which was somewhat wasted on the thin crowd. After, hmm, some circumstances, we got a lift back to London with the headliners, Chris TT. They dropped us off in Highgate and Kate and I got a minicab to West Hampstead at about 4 in the morning. The 15 wait for the taxi was spent in pure cold empty glittering solstice darkness.
No glitter tonight, only tinsel and Dickon’s lilies tied to the microphone stand and I feel kind of nerve-wracked to be playing London again after 2 years, especially as the front row comprises my chums, and I play the right notes but not exactly in the right order, but apart from that it goes OK and afterwards, I lose badly at table football and sink into a sofa with gins before hometime and forget my boots and have to beg my way back in and a Swedish man laughs at me in the Mornington Crescent lift.