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Date: Tue, 4 Jan 94 15:35:04 GMT
From: edwardc[at]-remove-aisb.ed.ac.uk
Subject: Waiting for the Bus
There's no Love in Lovebus.
there's also nothing about the JBC in this posting so if you're busy I
would recommend not reading this.
Still with me? Regular readers of this column may recall the last JBC event
I was scheduled to appear at was a close call because someone had the
audacity to throw themselves in front of a picadilly line train, thus very
nearly preventing me from arriving at Angel Station in time. Well... as the
giant would say... it is happening again.
Night before gig: my word, am I drinking a lot. (Yes) Still, it's worth it
because there's not long to go before Xmas and I'm leaving the drizzle of
Edinburgh and My Destiny behind for the sunshine of the East Midlands.
Morning of gig: feel *terrible*. Can I get up? Let's try.... whooops. I
pack a few items and depart. Stop for pint of beer at the airport whilst
waiting for the plane. Mistake. But I'm OK. Hold back from the Gin and
Tonic inflight. Arrive in London, train from airport unhindered by dead
bodies. Arrive at coach station: 5:30 bus gets me into Northampton Central
District at about 7:30. Loadsa time to find wherever it's on exactly ("The
Belgium"?)
Bus is late. Bus is then very late. Bus is then *extremely* late. Why? Dead
bodies on the motorway. Seems all major roads from London to Eastern
England are closed due to a *huge* pileup and massive motorway death. Bus
now scheduled to depart at about 8:00, arriving 10:00. Can I wait? Yes I
bloody well can. Might well miss the damn thing but I've got a bus ticket
now so I might as well try. Think I'll just ring the venue to check.
At this point, Directory Enquiries have no clue as to the location of The
Belgium (which, in retrospect, doesn't surprise me) so I perform a current
situation evaluation exercise:
For Going: I want to go. I said I'd go.
Against Going: I won't get there in time. I don't know where it is. I feel
terrible. I don't want to spend the night sleeping at
Northampton Bus Station.
So I cut my losses, spend the money I had earmarked for beer on a clutch of
CDs (including the disappointing Friendloverplane 2) in "Cheapo Cheapo
Records" and then spend the money I had earmarked for beer *again* but on
beer in some dingy pub on Brewer Street. Oatmeal Stout and Lagavulin
chasers.
Make my way disconsolately back to the ancestral home and collapse.
Sorry.
ed.