06 November 2006

Ave the Rave

Have you ever seen the Jean Luc Goddard film Weekend? The beginning sequence of traffic jams, car crashes and carnage during a Friday rush hour out of Paris?…As this is the Guardian website, I’d be prepared to stake money that most of you have.
Well Friday’s journey to Bristol in the company of Luke Haines bore an uncanny resemblance to this. Even before hitting Hammersmith, we’d witnessed ambulances and mangled wreckages…we’d deliberately set out before three to avoid this kind of excitement. A six car pile up at Maidenhead, an exploding car at Reading and a rather fatal looking accident near Bath later, we arrived in Bristol, tired, emotional, ready for dinner and in need of Guinness.
It should be pointed out that this tour is extremely low key, using one motor vehicle, minimal electrickery and two nine volt batteries. To make it carbon neutral, some stinging nettles will be planted on a patch of wasteland in the very near future...Thom Yorke eat yer heart out…

The evening was most enjoyable, my sawing services required only sporadically, leaving time to chat to an old friend whom I hadn’t seen for over twenty years…she was a backing singer in a very early band. She is now a highly successful solicitor – I on the other hand am playing saw with a man who sings about Gary Glitter, Peter Sutcliffe and Sir Oswald Moseley…none in a complimentary way I should add.

Saturday began with paracetemol, a spot of dry retching, cursing the bottle of red we’d procured for last night’s return journey….There was a designated driver – who remained sober and oblivious to the cackling old wrecks in the back….and the arrival of my divine daughter – Ave the Rave, who promptly threw a tantrum outside the paper shop ,accusing me of being the meanest daddy in the world, declaring her absolute hatred of me, and threatening to take my life if I didn’t buy her the pencils and coloured rubbers she claimed as a birth right. We were on a shopping trip to buy presents for the two friends whose birthday parties we had been invited to; and less than an hour before, she had been given – crayons, pencils, paper, scissors, and plasticine, as a ‘Welcome to Daddy’s New Flat’ present.
Carry a screaming, kicking child, upside down, as it tries to bite your stomach and tear out your innards, while you attempt to maintain dignity and exchange polite smiles with passers by who are probably thinking that something awful is occurring , is something most of you will have to endure at some point. Embrace it. It won’t last forever. Marvel at your child’s expanding vocabulary, its reasoning, daring and divisiveness. Then threaten to leave it where it is forever and start walking away. In no time at all…three hours tops, the infant will quite have forgotten, forgiven and reassessed its feelings towards you. Especially if there is the prospect of an evening fireworks display, over priced fairground rides, and the opportunity to crush your spine by riding on your shoulders for two hours, wielding a glow sword.


Anonymous Roger said...


I was at the Bristol gig at what I'll think you'll agree was an "interesting" venue. The lack of head room combined with the foam eggbox-like things hanging from the ceiling made the room look even more cramped.

I was however very impressed with the show itself. Mr H. was in fine form and I must admit that you are the finest bowed-saw player that I've ever seen live (OK then, the only one !!).

1:23 PM  
Blogger John Moore said...

One is as many as you'll ever need. Btw, if you'd travelled back to London with him, you'd revise that fine form comment. Horrendously hammered would be a fairer analysis.

11:35 PM  
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