Leeds Festival - Bramham Park Leeds 26th August 2005
Nevertheless, those of a certain age still fork out the £100+ to spend a lot of the weekend bored, tired and/or stoned, waiting for a band that actually doesn't sound like they're drilling holes in the stage and suffering from a bad case of trapped wind. So, Leeds, to headline Friday, shipped in establishment heavyweights Iron Maiden to soak up some extra sixty-five quids. Let's face it, it is not a metal bill and without Maiden, a lot of the people who made the trip, would not be there. Conversely, much of the audience is made up of people who would not normally be seen dead at an Iron Maiden concert. That said, looking around it does make me chortle to see the strange mix of t-shirts in the audience. Unkempt longhairs side-by-side with pasty-faced emokids. If either lot weren't so stoned, there would be a riot!
Firstborn unimpressed.Brrrrr! Cold! How long until Maiden? 10 hours? WTF? Anyway, it was to sunny Leeds we traipsed at the end of August. Back in the day, the August Bank Holiday meant a trip to Reading, blazing sunshine, a weekend of drunken debauchery, and some [classic] rock. You could set your watch by it... if you were in any state to see your watch, or indeed, remember where you last saw your timepiece. This year, it meant driving rain, biting wind, and a hell of a lot of waiting around for the bands you actually came to see. Myself and firstborn were just here for the Friday; secondborn was here for the duration, emokid that she is.
It was quite a hike from the day car park to the 'arena'. Good job that it is possible to get a decent cup of unmasculine European coffee at one of these things nowadays. I tell you, if someone had told me back at Reading '83, that in twenty-something years time, we would be drinking cappuccinos at a rock festival, I would have assumed that:
a) they were stoned
b) I was stoned
c) I would be dead long before I saw that happen.
It was quite a hike from the day car park to the 'arena'. Good job that it is possible to get a decent cup of unmasculine European coffee at one of these things nowadays. I tell you, if someone had told me back at Reading '83, that in twenty-something years time, we would be drinking cappuccinos at a rock festival, I would have assumed that:
a) they were stoned
b) I was stoned
c) I would be dead long before I saw that happen.
Still, here I was, twenty-five years after I first went to a rock festival, sitting in a field, drinking coffee, wondering why I wasn't acting my age sitting at home, in front of the fire, having a nice cup of tea and a nap. Really, had I learned nothing from the previous three years at Download? Not really.
Note to self: Grow Up!
I did actually consider growing up a few years back. It fit me no better than a cheap Italian suit. However, I did have enough sense to wear a thick fleece, a heavy cotton shirt, big thick socks with padded soles, hiking boots and my Drizabone coat. And before you even start to smirk, yes, I was wearing pants! God, you people have such smutty minds…
Anyway, the fleece I knew would be required by one of the offspring later as it got colder still – if they both wanted it, they could fight - and the boots and socks would be a blessing later when the ground became a mud bath and we had that long hike back to the car in the dark. The Drizabone is older than at least one of my children and has been used not only as a coat; it has been put to many (often bizarre) uses. It has been all over America with me and served as bed, blanket, tent, and even coat. After the car got broken into after a Maiden gig in Brixton a few years back, and the RAC wouldn’t come and fix the window, being waterproof I put it in the door opening, slammed the door and it kept the wind and rain out during the two hundred mile journey home. Today its need was much more mundane: a ground sheet to keep the wet ground from our bottoms and a coat for when it began chucking it down! (It is a very big coat. I bought it when I was 7 stone heavier and it was big on me even then. Now, it comfortably protects two people from wind and rain.)
Mark L. Potts
The God of Thunder
1st September 2005
Note to self: Grow Up!
I did actually consider growing up a few years back. It fit me no better than a cheap Italian suit. However, I did have enough sense to wear a thick fleece, a heavy cotton shirt, big thick socks with padded soles, hiking boots and my Drizabone coat. And before you even start to smirk, yes, I was wearing pants! God, you people have such smutty minds…
Anyway, the fleece I knew would be required by one of the offspring later as it got colder still – if they both wanted it, they could fight - and the boots and socks would be a blessing later when the ground became a mud bath and we had that long hike back to the car in the dark. The Drizabone is older than at least one of my children and has been used not only as a coat; it has been put to many (often bizarre) uses. It has been all over America with me and served as bed, blanket, tent, and even coat. After the car got broken into after a Maiden gig in Brixton a few years back, and the RAC wouldn’t come and fix the window, being waterproof I put it in the door opening, slammed the door and it kept the wind and rain out during the two hundred mile journey home. Today its need was much more mundane: a ground sheet to keep the wet ground from our bottoms and a coat for when it began chucking it down! (It is a very big coat. I bought it when I was 7 stone heavier and it was big on me even then. Now, it comfortably protects two people from wind and rain.)
Mark L. Potts
The God of Thunder
1st September 2005
