The Specials

A tale from history

The Specials

My friend Carl, from Jersey (Channel Islands), bought himself and me tickets to see The Specials on May 6th 2009.

Carl flew over the day before and stayed at our house so that we could drive to Exeter to get the train to London do a bit of shopping, have some food then go and dance like nutters for a couple of hours then go home.

That didn’t happen.

Instead we got as far as the going to the gig part only to find, on arrival, it had been cancelled, Terry had a sore thumb or something. So, the nice friendly bouncers (weird I know) suggested we go to a pub up the road who were having a Ska night, oh well we thought, let’s try that then.

Or not.

The pub was now full of all the other people who had turned up for the gig and we couldn’t get in.

Bugger.

We could however come back on May 16th when the original  gig was rescheduled for, that’s quite quick, we thought, cancelled and rescheduled in the same day, surely Terry isn’t too sick then.

Well he can’t have been too sick because all the rest of the dates carried on without a hitch, now there were rumours of football matches and Terry not missing this important one and so-forth, but I’m sure they were unfounded. Well I hope so, because I’m certain we weren’t the only people to travel far for this gig, we know for instance, of a girl who had flown over from Mississippi for the show.

Anyhoo…..

I keep hold of the tickets. I book a train again, this time just for me, and a return from Bristol. Carl would fly in to Gatwick, go to the gig, book a hotel room and fly back next day. Fine, sorted, lovely.

So, with the help of a friends sat-nav I drive off to Bristol. I know how to get to Bristol, I just needed the sat-nav to get me to Temple Meads station, as I have never been there.

Sat nav instructs me to leave M5 for bristol at the Gordano turn off, this is fine I’ve been here a lot. Then she shuts up.

The battery is low, and when her battery is low, the voice goes off, bugger! I’m sat at traffic lights, looking at sat-nav, checking lights, finding battery charge lead thingy tring to get the power back on. Lights change and I am at least heading in the right direction. Possibly.

Whilst trying to plug power lead thingy in I had inadvertantly reset sat-nav to send me home, so as soon as i plug in the lead and the voice wakes up, I get told to turn around.

But I don’t want to tun round I’ve just got here.

I flounder for a bit, then realise what I have done and reset  the sat-nav to send me to Temple Meads station.

(I told you this was a long one)

So after nearly killing at least 12 pepole by nearly missing a left turn and having to dart out across 2 traffic lanes, I get to the station with plenty of time to spare.

So far so good? Yea it’s fine, I have chocolate, coffee, a nice seat on the train and someone has left a copy of the Guardian for me to read.

I arrive in London in good spirits and celebrate with a Burger King meal after meeting up with Carl, who had a bit of a job checking in to a hotel when they had no power.

So we are ready for the gig now.

Off to the trusty underground, which has closed two of it’s major lines, Circle and District. Making it a bit more annoying for us out of towners to work out where we are going, but, never mind, we have plenty of time before the gig starts.

We get to the venue, Brixton Academy, it’s good, there are people going in, touts buying / selling tickets, strange people handing out flyers for things I will never go to, but accept anyway, I hope in a small way, I brighten their day.

Still all good. We get into venue, all excited like dribbling schoolboys in Amsterdam, (odd image, I’m sorry) straight for the merch stall, I buy the lovely tour t-shirt, Carl buys one of everything else.

Head off in search of a cloakroom, find it, and pay to have our coats and stuff hung on hangers for a couple of hours.

Back to the auditorium (are they still called that?) a while before anything really happens, and as the room fills with Fred Perry and Ben Sherman and a few other odd types, the excitement is building, only to be crushed by the frankly pointless support band. No offence to whoever they were, but, just no need for them really, no-one knew them or their songs and just put up with them in the way you do when you’re waiting for the main band. I still have no idea who they were.

They go off, lots of records are played by The Specials original DJ, Felix, and some fine cuts he plays too. Desmond Deker, Prince Buster, The Jam, Dexy’s, but I’m wandering off the point.

The lights dim, and, to the sounds of Enjoy Yourself(reprise) The Specials take to the stage behind a big white sheet. The sheet drops and they kick off a fantastic night with Do The Dog.

I don’t stop dancing now for quite a while.

One thing I didn’t mention, they were very late taking to the stage and I’m on a tight schedule….can you see where this is going?

I plan ahead and agree with Carl that before the encore I’ll rush off to the cloakroom and get our stuff (I wonder just how many cloaks they have to hang up these days)

So, as they fade out of Ghost Town, I bolt off up the stairs and beat the queues to get the stuff, Carl texts me to see if I’m coming back in and I reply for him to come and get his stuff as I’m gonna miss my train if I wait much longer.

I  miss the encore, Too Much Too Young! Damn!

I dash through the streets of Brixton to the tube, get the train, spend a lot of time glancing at my watch and worrying about how bad I must smell.

All to no avail, yes reader, I missed that train.

If only I had been 2 minutes earlier, if the tube wasn’t shut if….damn, how do I get home?

Ticket office……are there anymore trains to Bristol? No

When is the next one? Tomorrow

Bollocks.

How much is it? £48

More bollocks

How much have I got left? Bank says £50

Just enough.

I phone home, “yes they were great, yes Carl was very sweaty, no I missed my train, yes, that’s what I said”

I phone Carl, he hasn’t left Victoria yet…right, I’ll meet Carl at Victoria station get on the Gatwick Shuttle with him, and sneak into his hotel stay the night and get train back in the morning. Sorted!

I buy my ticket for the next day. Go back on the tube, I have now changed trains at Oxford Circus 4 times today.

Meet up with Carl after a mix up as to which Burger King we would meet by, as there are 2 in Victoria Station. Wait for half an hour for shuttle and via a very nice bus driver we end up back at Carl’s hotel. The  duty desk manager, looks slightly suspicious of us but doesn’t say anything, even when we have to call down and get him to sort out the room keycard as it won’t open the door.

I get to have a wash, yay! Felling less smelly but tired and achy, we both hit our beds for a restless short few hours.

Morning arrives very soon and we drink horrible room supply tea and go back to lobby so Carl can check out. He then uses their cash point to lend me the money to get back to Paddington station and have some breakfast on the way home (thank you Carl).

This is all very innocent to us, but we are left wondering how it looked to the staff as Carl checked in on his own, turned up late at night with another man, who had no luggage, then they both leave in the morning after he has taken cash out of machine to give to other strange luggage-less man.

Without any further mishap I make it home, tired smelly and aching, but it was a damn good gig.