ahoy, w-a-s-t-e-rels!my bloody valentine (thursday) were even louder than in 1993, i didn't think this was possible. for all you indie noise snobs, they were louder than mogwai. seriously. free earplugs were being handed out at the merchandise stall, the health and safety nazis have invaded rock n' roll. the barrowlands, to be exact!if you haven't been, go. the best concert venue on earth. fact.AGENT MCLEAN, the source of my last-minute ticket, was wise enough to make use of his ear plugs. i, being of sterner stuff, felt no need. the cataclysmic white-noise climax to the show put paid to that theory, by which time i had of course lost the fucking ear plugs. bastard.note to kevin shields - twenty-five minutes of feedback is taking the piss. the first five were amazing, the next ten an endurance test. the remainder were, dare i say it, boring?stepping outside into a remarkably quiet gallowgate, i expected some ringing and ear-related breakage. i wasn't ready for the lack of balance. they knocked the utter shite out of me. AGENT MCLEAN was working the next day, i'm pleased to say i wasn't.i got home and discovered the earplugs in my pocket.from the sublime to the ridiculous. THE LEGEND persuaded me to leave the sanctuary of my bed to go camping. i fucking hate camping. his logic?"we're sharing a tent with three nurses!"aha! THE LEGEND, i said, i am used to disappointments and japery on your part. how many of them are men?"none, man, they're all girls."what the hell. against my better judgment (and experience) i decided to go along to... the newcastleton traditional music festival!!! maybe the soothing sounds of the folkies would ease my head, or perhaps a nurse would.those of you sharper w-a-s-t-e-rs will have clicked on the link and noticed the warning at the top of the page. there is no petrol station in newcastleton (thom would be so proud!). check out a map to see how suicidally remote the planned(!) village of newcastleton is from anywhere. it's over twenty miles from hawick (twinned with royston vasey), for god's sake.the police station there is up for sale. true.anyway, the rest of the evening is hazy. i remembering butchering "the northern lights of old aberdeen" with some random member of the public with an accordion. the nurses were, indeed, female. unfortunately, they were all in their fifties and spent the night drinking, farting and trying to touch every man in sight, except for a rather disappointed THE LEGEND.THE LEGEND snores like darth vader with a head cold. needless to say, i forgot to pack the earplugs. drat!all the good work done by my back-rubber has been undone by camping. no coffee, no vegan food anywhere (i found some fig rolls at the convenience store) and loads of bikers from newcastle (not newcastleton). oh, it was hell, dear friends.the only thing that made it worthwhile was the traumatic journey each way. newcastleton is, as i said, only twenty miles beyond hawick (in cultural terms, that's like setting your watch back fifty years), but it takes ninety minutes to drive the twenty miles, such is the hellish (and i hate to call it this) "road".THE LEGEND gets nervous driving, so a few witty quotes about crashing were all i needed to amuse myself. i also found making reference to the boat journey in apocalypse now was both amusing and disturbing.so, dear friends, few laughs this time, but a little insight into my world. i'm off to have a peppermint tea and watch qi reruns on the dave tv channel. i am mellowness personified, except for the painfully unfunny adverts for cobra beer that run on that channel every night. i am never buying cobra beer, they're that bad.i think i may write an email of complaint! haha! does this mean i'm technology-literate, or just a lazy old bastard? probably both.anyway, know that i love you all. each and every one of you.your pal,steve x.
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