- The kettle bath
- 4orce, Chris Bunting from Farnham's boyband
- Antlers at Pontins
So I think it's fair to say we woke up a little worse for wear. The sheets on my bed had shifted and I was lying straight onto the plastic-y urine-proof mattress. Chris was just leaving to watch the National play in the 5-a-side footie. He'd brought Paddy and I some croissants and cereal. Hero. I turned on the TV only to find our electricity saving attempts the day before now meant that every time you turned on the tv, most of the screen was filled with a box asking us to set the clock, or press 'menu' to escape. With no remote or appropriate buttons, it meant I had to watch the tops of Fraser and Niles' heads for half hour. TV fail.
Next I thought I'd have a bath. There was no shower option in this basic-grade chalet. After a few minutes of the water running, I went back in to check progress and temperature. Turns out the water was cold. Icy. A few kettles full of boiled water didn't change the temperature at all. After trying to work out how many kettles of water it would take to fill the bath, I discovered the hot water switch. Rather than wait the 30minutes Paddy advised it needed to heat up, I proceeded to part fill the bath with kettle and hob water. The kettle took forever to boil, and there was a smell of burning from the saucepan, suggesting I was probably sharing my bath with some food remnants.
It was probably the least satisfying bath experience I've ever had. Lying down, the water didn't even cover my shoulders. And after an hour, the tap still ran cold. Paddy and the others took a walk down to Camber Sands beach whilst I stood on the toilet and used the bathroom heater as a hairdryer.
I walked over to the main venue and killed some time hoping to spot band members in the arcade. You can generally tell who's in a band by accent and attire. If you're American and/or wearing hipster glasses and a checked shirt, you're in a band (as I write this in a cafe in Camber Sands, I'm eavesdropping on some members from two different bands. One from New Orleans and one from Seattle). I'm confident in doing things alone, but it felt a bit too Alan Partridge playing House of the Dead 4 in an arcade so I drew a line at anything beyond the 2p machines. To avoid any gambling addiction, I limited myself to 20p, putting my 4p profit straight back in to the Coronation Street themed machine.
I went to the miserable looking restaurant (I don't mean to cast a negative light over the 2011 refurbished Pontins facilities, but really, restaurant was an overstatement. It wasn't pirate themed, so that was a bonus I suppose) and ordered up some chips. They'd run out of ketchup. It's that sort of place.
Next I went to see a percussion group called 'So Percussion'. With no vocals or electric instruments, it was an interesting experience and the beats and rhythms they made were really impressive but after a few minutes, you get a little bored. I think it would work as an instrumental within a larger band, but not on its own. We'd only been given two keys for our chalet, so I went to the Pirate Ship to see what proof of ID I needed to get another. None it turns out. Just my room number. If I were an opportunistic criminal, I could have put down deposits to all sorts of keys.
I met the guys to listen to Kronos Quartet and then headed back to the apartment for a well-needed nap. Blissful. I regrouped and went across to catch the end of Nico Muhny. They did a cover of True Faith by New Order. Paddy and I had an argument about the nationality of the character Jessa in HBO's Girls. I said Aussie, Paddy said British. Paddy won. I now have a little more sympathy over American confusion about accents.
We went back for a drink at the flat with Chris Bunting. He revealed he'd previously managed a boyband called 4orce. Two of them were gymnasts. We were astounded they'd never made it, with that sort of formula. He'd also tried to buy-out Guild Fest, a festival in Surrey which was now defunct, with the people who own the O2. I think the negotiations all got a bit nasty, and Chris was now sort of glad that it had fallen through.
After a session of listening to the National, we went back to the venue to listen to Sharon Van Etten. She had a great voice but there was nothing really life changing or new about their sound. Aaron Dessner made what must have been his 50th guest appearance of the weekend. I sat to the side for a bit and watched a man skidding and falling on the dance floor. The edge of the room is floored with an awful, dark, pub-style carpet and there's a dancefloor in the middle. The room is window-free and permanently lit with red spot lights. It truly is unpleasant.
Then, revisiting my 16 year old festival self, I stood at the front for 30minutes in order to be close to Antlers when they came on. Seems they had a no-roadie rule at ATP (maybe thed run out of cabins?) so I got a sneak preview of them setting up. I've seen this band about 8 times now, 4 of which were last year. What I love more than their sound and lyrics is the way they seem to have developed as a band, which you can hear listening to first Hospice (a brilliant, bleak concept album) and then Burst Apart (an album that sounds incredible live with all this grating guitar and crackling synth). There seems to be an increasing collaboration within the band and each member experiments a bit more with their instruments. The set was interrupted by some sound issues, so the keys player kept people entertained with suggestions of a beach party and QandA (girl next to me: what cabin are you staying in?). I loved their set, though some post-show analysis with two different people suggested if you're not a huge fan, you might find their live shows a bit too experimental.
I waited around for a bit to see Wild Beasts performing Smother, and then hit the hay, falling asleep to the sounds of Cold War Kids on my iPod.
End of day 68.
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