Glastonbobulated

Ahh where do I start.
Arriving on site at 1am tuesday night unawares to the scale of the site,set up tent in backstage and off to sleep for 3hrs.
Upon rising i realised that the rest of the lads had made an awesome camp consisting of a VW camper,awning,tall tent containing solar shower and chemical loo,fire pot,and furniture and if that wasnt enough just next to us a bar was bein constructed for us and it was only tuesday.
So on we went making the dance village shine revelling in the glorious weather until we finished work on Thursday afternoon and it was time to relax and party and take my first wander around the site,my god its huge.
About 4am I was thinkin about goin to bed when the storm hit watching it roll over the hill was amazing one of the best storms Ive seen ever mad lightning (6 bolts at once hitting the ground) and ferocious rain then the boss comes over and tells us one of the tents has collapsed and we have to get our gear out,oh joy working knee deep in water with power cables floating past and walking through the field with a big metal ladder with lightning hitting circus tents next to us,from there it was straight into openin my stage and the madness began.Thank God we were up high on site rather than down the bottom with this lot
Friday consisted of getting my kilt on (and it stayed on all weekend), backstage bar madness wading through a knee deep mud lake to see The Secret Machines and it was soooo worth it followed by all night backstage bar chaos enhanced by bumping into an old friend of mine from NZ who was there making a Glasto Doco for TVNZ.
Saturday was quite calm but I did see the Stereo Mcs who I thought I would never see in my life and they were better than I imagined playin all the old classics.
Sunday was wandering day,down to lost vagueness patting the robotic horse on the way,watching madness unfold around us ,watching The Bays rock it, seeing Seeed play a powerful set, finishing the night in the lounge bar with Giles Petterson playing 'All you need is love' by the Beatles with everyone singin along (there was a tear in my eye),hmm now where to go yes you guessed it backstage bar where the girls had layed on the Sambucas and even I got behind the bar,so adorning a sparkling tiara I started pouring drinks , my 3rd customer seemed rather familiar then i clicked it was Howard Marx so I got him to sign my kilt and sat down and had a chat ,what a funny bloke,upon returning to the bar I met Rufus from 808 State ,one of my old favourites I was sitting around some of some of my heroes,this is what Glastonbury is about forget all the band hoo haa it's the magic of the people and the random goings on that make it for me.
So as the sun came up it was time for some stiff coffee and of to pull it all apart,oh joy,once all that was done it was about 3pm so what else to do but find a party which led to another and another until it was about 6am at dickies bar and it was time to walk back up the hill passing the deserted camp grounds which looked like war zones.




and that was my Glastonbury (well the bits i remember)
My conclusions ;
-Kilts are the best thing to wear at festivals
-Mud washes off
-Randomness rocks
-Comin back to reality sucks
-Hurry up 2007
And favourite sayin;
Arse like grannys tea towel holder
hehe

The fields a beckon

Hurrah hurrah I got the call I thought wasever gonna come,yup thats right I'm goin to Glastonbury yeeeeeeeeee haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa .
Goin for a week to do one of the dance tents finally my cherry will be popped.
watch this space for a rambling recollection.

says it all

The weekend that wasn't (in my memory)

Well the title says it all really it all started so innocently.Friday night off to work for the first time in two weeks after a shite coughing flu, the night went well finished at 5am bumped into a mate who suggested a wee tipple in a 24hr snooker club (wee tipple,yeah right).All of a sudden I realised the time,midday DOH!
Then it was off too the Toast Festival on the bus which is where it all starts gettin fuzzy,so if anyone found bits of a memory please contact me.However the bits i do have are like blipverts containing Champagne,snogging good friends,odd phone calls,and dodgyness back stage.
Another look at clock and Doh yet again its 7:30pm time to go to work again which was at the Type night (in my mind one of the best monthlys in london) saw Loco Dice play an awesome set before Seb Fontaine rocked it also.
Now it's 6am and its off to fabric to see the end of Carl Craig and visit some friends,who in turn suggest goin out after Mr craig and yours truly stupidly,stupidly agreed to (I need help).
Now we find ourselves in a disused underground toilet next to Spittlefields called Public Life, wearing silly hats listen to the legendary Mr C playin.Written down this sounds preposterous,toilet,sunday morn,Mr C go figure.Anyhow it was good,really good in fact.
Now you may think thats quite a weekend full but alas no,it was a short stroll round to the Big Chill bar for some Bloody Marys and a regroup before heading to Secret Sundaze.Upon arrival there was a massive cue which I found extremely daunting,but somehow thanks to the powers that be we just floated past it all and in the front door without handing over any silver,don't ask me why as it's startin to go hazy about here,so if anyone in that cue found any more bits of memory do the right thing,ta.
Any of you who have been to Secret Sundaze will know all about it but to those of you who haven't been (me included till Sunday gone) It's all good outdoors phat tunes and a lovely party feel.
Whilst at the bar the rest of my memory fell out as the next thing I know I'm being woken up by a train driver to inform me to get off the train as it's the last one and I' m in Cockfosters.
WHAT Cockfosters apparently I had left liverpool st at 8ish,oh shit,then upon staggering out of the tube I got on a bus to discover i had no credit on my oyster card but luckily I had some coins.
Next thing I'm being woken up again this time at High Barnet can it get any worse,well yes as it happens because it is now I realise that I'm pennyless and have sat on my money card breaking it into lot's of pieces and it's Midnight in High barnet and I live in South London.So on the blag I went and found someone to give me they're travelcard,thank fuck.
After waiting an hour a bus finally came that got me home by 2am.
Phew
When will I ever learn.

P.S if any of you saw me on the weekend and I did something good or bad I would love to know as I have no recollection,ta.

And whilst we are on the subject

Bloody ringtones
Yes that's right those little sequences of beeps that get on my tits like nobodies business reared they're ugly little heads again.
This time it was in the form of a middle aged well to do woman on the bus,texting the old skool way (non predictive) with the keypad beeps on grrr and loud,aaaaaaaaaaand in between sending and receiving going through all the ringtones in her phone,inconsiderate bitch.lucky I was only on the bus for a few stops as I was reaching boiling point,and by the look of the other passengers faces when I got off I wasn't alone.
So why is it in this country no one says anything to people like this??
I have decided to start making a concious effort to reverse this problem,in fact i started the other night whilst sitting outside the Big Chill bar when some little princess turned up at our table and demanded the outdoor heater be turned on,even after we explained why it wasn't on claiming ''I don't care Im cold'' to which i replied well go inside then,made sense to me?
any way this went on for a bit until she sarcastically remarked ''Oh your sooo hurting my feelings'' so I retorted with '' well whilst your feeling why don't you feel your way to a night bus and FUCK OFF HOME!!''
Selfish bitch doesn't she know it's all about me.
So on with the Movement to sort out selfish people I say.

B ringing
R espect and
U nderstanding to
S elfish
H umans

Karaoke buskin

What is it with busking these days,I mean everywhere you go whether it be the tube station ar down the street you see these supposed buskers with a little stereo and some bullshit weak as piss mp3 backing track playing some naff song while they play there little part over the top.I don't know about you but to me that ain't busking its just glorified karaoke .
I remember the day when buskers all sounded like Billy Bragg singing an original or a version of something,not standing around being a musical karaoke twat.
Carling and London Underground should not issue busking licences to these people as they are not busking they are just avoiding the fact that they can't sing, they should fuck of to some crap pub and join the other leagues of pissed karaoke kings and queens,or just do as I do and stay at home and play in your own air band.

Cook the man some eggs

Now those of you who know me will know about my addiction to eggs,and that I am constantly on a quest to find the best eggy delight there is (Ms Smackie is a top contender).
I thought I had seen it all until I came across this little recipe for the perfect fried egg from Michelin Chef Bernard Loiseau.
To start its best to use a stainless steel egg ring and a small non-stick frying pan.

Pre-Heat oven(thats right oven) to 245C gas mark 9.Break the egg and carefully seperate the white from the yolk,making sure to keep the yolk whole.Put aknob of butter and a soupspoon of water in the frying pan and heat until foaming.Salt and pepper the pan so that the underside of the egg gets seasoned also.When the butter starts to foam,carefully slide in the white.
Put in the oven and cook nfor a minute and a half.the top should still be trembling.Now season the top-seasoning the white means you won't tarnish the yolks colour.
Now place the raw yolk in the centre of the white and return to the oven for 2 minutes.Dot with a few drops of balsamic vinegar and serve.

Now thats cookin the man some eggs.
So for those of you whos house I wake up in sometimes and for those of you who are yet to have the pleasure,I recommend printing these instructions and I look forward to having breakfast with you.
hehehehehe

Kill The F@#king frog

Oh it's driving me insane,where the fuck did the crazy frog come from one day he doesn't exist then all of a sudden he's there twice an ad break with his ring ding ding grrrrrrrrrrr.
I tell ya if I ever hear someone say that they had something to do with it or that they work for jamster there is not even going to be a word its gonna be straight to the glaswegian kiss.
And secondly if I ever hear that ringtone,someones phone is toast.
I know it's a feat of marketing but it's just going a bit far it's driving me fucking insane.Maybe we should unite and fire thousands of emails at Jamster saying 'FUCK OFF', surely there must be something we can do to restore the proper decorum of television.
The fact that I'm even writing about it is sad as fuck.
For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about,oh how i envy you.