Highlights:
- Taxi driver from Hamstreet to Ashford
- Showering
- Going Dark at The Young Vic
There was a somewhat optimistic check-out time of 10am. I managed to get the ball rolling and started clearing up the jelly and mulled wine remnants of the previous day. I took our keys to the pirate ship to check out; this formal process consisting of our keys just being dumped in a pile with no ticking off of the number on them. Pontins just about does ATP (though it really was a brilliant weekend. The best sort of festival you can imagine).
Chris Bunting from Farnham offered to drive us to Rye, if we didn't want a lift all the way to Guildford. We picked the former, though due to some poor navigation on his part we ended up in Hamstreet in Kent. He gave us both hugs goodbye, and thanked us for our hospitality and welcoming natures. We didn't share contact details.
Turns out Hamstreet has an extremely irregular train service, and the next train was coming from Rye with (we expected) a packed carriage of ATP goers. We decided to try the bus, though just as we were walking to the bus stop, one pulled out. The next bus wasn't for 50minutes. We truly were in the middle of nowhere. We called a cab, and a nice Ashford local came to pick us up. He was a United fan, as his only football influence as a youngster was from his Uncle who lives up North. Definitely not a glory hunter; did you know that Manchester United were relegated in the 70s? This guy supported them throughout. He dropped us at Ashford International with some useful stats; it's only 50 miles to London from Ashford and this new Hi-Speed train takes 36minutes. I jumped off the train at Stratford International and left Paddy to go to King's Cross. He needed to get home quick to sleep, ahead of going to 'the Ryder Cup of Pool' at York Hall in Bethnal Green. Yeah, it exists: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mosconi_Cup.*
I arrived home and SHOWERED. I spent the afternoon unsubscribing myself from all the remaining mailing lists I'd been added to when I entered those competitions in late November. I received a message from my friend Lucy showing me the headline about the Facebook party in Billericay. It was on her old road, Pauline Gardens and just seems a little extreme for suburban Billericay. The article is a tad confusing (here) as it seems to suggest the mum was there for the entire party and continued to let guests in even though the house was being completely trashed. Still, I've promised Abbie and Tony that when they're away for New Year I DEFINITELY WON'T hold a Facebook party at our flat. Definitely.
Tony came home from a long day at the Studio (11-3pm, then a few beers in the pub) and invited me to the theatre in place of his original date, Ian. Ian works at a company which (I think) consults theatres on sets, lighting and sound for their shows, and they fund him to buy a number of tickets for plays each month as research. He had to pull out last minute to fulfil Dad duties and as Abbie was out, I was third choice to go see 'Going Dark' at The Young Vic (promo photo below).
We caught a bus which (despite usually including this mundane information in my blog posts) I understand is not at all comment-worthy, except that I think it was the first time I've ever seen Tony on a bus. It was pretty harrowing. Whilst I tried to point out the viewing benefits of the top deck and seeing London in a different way etc., Tony just seemed frustrated that we had to stop to pick strangers up. You don't have to do that in a car apparently. We had the front seats of the top deck though. Just like a couple of year 7s before they get moved on by the older kids. We got there just in time before Tony had a complete meltdown. Abbie's since told me that you have to tell him it's a big red taxi. It's the only way to make it acceptable to him.
There's a really nice bar above the Young Vic theatre, which I'm not sure if you all know. It's called The Cut and is just quite comfortable, friendly and does a good selection of wines, cocktails and food. Good for dates, I think. There were three plays showing that night though I hadn't realised the theatre had so many different rooms. I've only ever been to the main one before, the last time being to see Bingo with Patrick Stewart (who I unrealistically assumed I'd share a taxi with back to Bermondsey; he owns a pied-à-terre there, you know). Going Dark is being shown in The Maria Theatre. As it was all a little last minute, I had very little info about the play beyond Ian's comments that a lot of it was actually in the dark and it was about the Cosmos. You're advised to leave your coats and bags outside as you had to keep them on your laps during the 75minute performance (presumably for health and safety as people could trip over them in the dark)**. There are lights under each seat to guide you on the way in, but as soon as the performance starts, the room goes completely black. You can't even see your hand in front of you, and there's not even faint light for your eyes to adjust to.
So, Going Dark is written by Hattie Taylor with assistance from Sound&Fury to really make some powerful connections between the plot and the audio and visual experience. It's a one man play, though there's a recorded voice for another character at various points during the production. As the light came and went, you could see audience members peering to see if there was an actor behind this voice. It really is an incredible show. The limited light, this great actor (and at one point, dancer) and all the sounds around you, alongside some substantial 'accidental learning' about the Cosmos make it well worth going. One of the strongest, most unique shows I've seen in a long time. I left with more knowledge of the astronomy than I EVER picked up at school and wanting to star gaze, though sadly in London we could only see one star. But I now know how to find Polaris (follow the two stars on the front of the plough and it's the constant, though fainter than you'd imagine, star not far ahead), know that Sirius is the brightest star in the sky, with only two planets being brighter (Venus and Jupiter) and know that Orion's armpit is called Beetlejuice. I also know how and why stars turn into Supernovas and that the nearest next galaxy (which can mainly be seen as a blur in your peripherals just below the second 'V' of Cassiopeia) is called Andromeda. I'm not going to use all my knowledge now. Saving that for dinner parties over the coming months. Watch out for my astronomy chat, guys.
We caught the tube back (I could literally feel the relief pour out of Tony) with a greater awareness of sound over vision. I came up with a project for tomorrow's blog.
End of day 70.
*Apparently Paddy didn't end up going, though he informs me the US were winning after yesterday.
** M
y one criticism of the performance was the naff collection point they allocated for the racks of coats. The four racks were lined up down a thin corridor with only one entry/exit point and it only allowed single file, so you had to wait for everyone behind you to pile out before you could escape. I mean, it wasn't a deal breaker on my enjoyment of the evening, but still, fix up, Young Vic.
Highlights:
- Pub quiz, with Hannah and Leo
- Local Natives, particularly the live performance of Sun Hands
- The National! Of course. With a lovely acoustic version of Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks
I woke up feeling FRESH. I'm not sure the same can be said of Paddy and Jimmy who I think went to bed pretty late. I dressed (no bath. That ship has sailed) and headed down to the beach. It was one of those cool, crisp but bright days, and being relatively early for a Sunday, the beach was empty except for a few horses. I thought there was some sort of percussion band playing next to the doughnut hut but on closer viewing, turns out it was just the sound of the flag string hitting against the pole in the wind. I imagine some band from the festival will have sampled that.
I walked back along the sandy path to Rye Bay Cafe and took a seat. There was no menu but I took a shot, and unsurprisingly they served beans on toast. I was reading Monocle (and leaning a bit more about soft power) when some American voices piped up behind me. Clearly in a band. I spent the next twenty minutes eavesdropping and looking through my festival guide hoping to find out who they were. I narrowed the two guys down to support for Perfume Genius and the girl...well, her band was based in New Orleans, but she was from Minneapolis. Then ensued a rock and roll conversation about property prices in Seattle and wanting to settle out in a small city. Sure they're in a hip band and staying in luxury chalets, but they still talk about boring crap.
I felt pretty upbeat from the fresh air so I took a walk along the coast, intending to end up in Rye. I called my Grandma to wish her a belated happy 82nd birthday (I'd called her at 11pm the night before but she hadn't answered...) and we shared Camber Sands anecdotes. I think it was a frequent holiday destination of hers when my dad was a kid. I'd walked a few kilometres and had reached a nondescript part of the path when I changed my mind, and turned and walked back. There were lots of mini-reservoirs and normal size wind turbines on route. Really utilising that wind energy.
I walked past the Sunday 5-a-side in Pontins, but couldn't see any band members I recognised. I realise that's probably because I only recognise the four Antlers members and the front row of the National by face.
I caught up with Paddy and Chris Bunting from Farnham and we went to the Pop Quiz being held in the Queen Vic Pub on site. Turns out we should have registered the day before to enter, so we joined a 2-man team in order to at least take part. Leo and Hannah had come down from Cardiff for the event, and we figured we could in some way share the prize of a 4-man chalet at the Deerhunter ATP. A good £720 prize. My three main contributions to the answers I don't necessarily think gave me cool points with new friends Leo and Hannah; Q. What is the name of the Buffy musical episode? and later on, Q. Who is this band?
I clawed it back by solving the clue to the band and album of 'Feline female who uses energy in an attempt to be Muhammed Ali'.
The quiz lasted a long time, and the host (Lord Sinclair) whilst comical, probably used the 'c' word a few too many times for 2pm in the afternoon. There were a few 'guess the intro' rounds (I'd had a little practice on this when sitting and completing these with housemate Tony earlier in the week (http://www.sporcle.com/user/Kiwi_Buckle/games). After the quiz ended (I think we tied 5th) we headed back to the chalet with Leo and Hannah for some food and Lidl's own dry cider (with sugar and sweetener). Not as horrific as it sounds, and washed down with some lovely jelly they'd made. Hannah used to work on the city farm in Vauxhall, and her claim to fame was from earlier this year when the Queen had visited and Hannah had shown her a cock(erel). It was whilst working at the farm that she somehow converted her long-time vegan boyfriend back to meat-eating. She strenuously confirmed that farm rules were that you weren't allowed to eat any of the animals there though. Apparently when they died, you put them in the farm freezer, and then when the freezer was full, you went and buried/disposed of the corpses. Straight from her lips. Leo was a Medical Pharmacist at a University Hospital in Cardiff. He had just completed a PhD in Physics, so had a lot of chat with Paddy about theories/stuff that went way over my head. I could only contribute when they mentioned Brian Cox. I know him. From the telly.
Once we'd gorged ourselves on jelly, we headed back into the venue. I'd sadly missed Perfume Genius again (I missed them at Latitude as well, but really wanted to see this song Hood being performed (Perfume Genius – Hood). After a brief stop-off to see Wye Oak on Stage 2 (they were alright, but the room was too hot and stuffy to make it a pleasant experience) we fortunately arrived in time to see Owen Pallett. I have his album, though mainly know him from his work under the name 'Final Fantasy'. There's a song named 'He Poos Clouds' which is actually a really lovely composition, despite it's name (listen to it here: Final Fantasy – He Poos Clouds. Really kicks off around 40seconds). His solo stuff is good as well. He's a violinist and has really strong vocals. We then moved forward to listen to Local Natives. They C
OMPLETELY blew me away. Hands down the highlight of the festival. I already knew the tracks Airplanes and Sun Hands before the festival, from back in 2010 I think, and old-housemate Becky had seen them live a few years ago and been impressed, but I think I'd listened to their album before and hadn't been completely sold. But LIVE, they were seriously good. They were a five piece in this performance, four of whom were lined up at the front, and moved around each-other's instruments throughout. All four sang as well, and the impact of four voices lined up and belting out at you was really impressive. Check it out here: Local Natives: Sun Hands (Live). Really kicks off at 3 minutes).
After their show, which included another guest appearance from one of the Dessners (I don't know which. It's difficult to know who you're watching:
We stayed close to the front waiting for The National to come on stage. It was a 2h show, starting at 11pm (the benefit of being in a venue where noise pollution isn't a problem) and so we were all pretty excited. And by all, I mean THE ENTIRE FESTIVAL. This whole event had been building to this performance. They came out, and the room erupted. It really was incredible. They played a few new tracks, along side the always brilliant live versions of Mr November, Abel and Fake Empire. Bloodbuzz Ohio was also beautiful (The National – Bloodbuzz Ohio). And then after a brief time off stage, they came back on to play a few more songs, finishing with an acoustic/no microphone version of Vanderlyle, Crybaby Geeks. Lead singer Matt stood up on a higher level at the front like some sort of ship figurehead as the band grouped behind him like a ship's crew and he just belted out the song as the entire crowd sang with him. It was powerful. A beautiful end to the weekend.
End of day 69.
Highlights:
- 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.
Highlights:
- Hi-Speed train from King's Cross to Stratford
- Kronos Quartet in what looks like a grimy darts hall in Pontins
- Meeting someone from Luxembourg!
During my first 6 months or so in Bermondsey I had something covering my windows which I'm not sure can be described as curtains. Beige mesh might be a better description, so generally I'd had to try adapt to sleeping in the full beam of the permanently-on balcony light. Well, I didn't really sleep. Dozed and then woke at sunrise. Tony fitted a blackout blind about a month before I went away and I now sleep like a baby and without an alarm I'd probably sleep through until midday most days.
However, today I woke before my alarm; I think I had the music festival equivalent of Christmas Eve excitement/anticipation. I got up and packed for ATP, a music festival being held at the Pontins in Camber Sands (think the Inbetweeners) that had been curated by The National. It felt great being able to pack clothes I liked for a festival, rather than clothes I didn't mind being ruined. I packed as many toiletries as I wanted, and not just my 3for2 boots packs of facewipes and I packed my phone charger. I'd always dreamed of a music festival where I could contact my friends beyond the first day.
I was all prepared to go but then decided to open my work contract, and spent the 30 minutes I'd allocated for travel to King's Cross checking what discounts I received as a job perk (I'll tell you about them on my next cheap Spa Break). I eventually dragged myself away and headed to KC to meet Paddy. I bought my ticket from a nice French lady who confused me be telling me St Pancras was an entirely different station. What? When I joked that it was only a few metres away (yeah, joked. I'm not funny) she said with all seriousness that it would still take a little while to get to. 2 minutes later I was there.
Paddy was running late. And as the train departure time approached, he really was running. I think he went to every possible station entrance OTHER than the one our train was leaving from. When he burst in 3minutes before the train left, we figured we'd take the train an hour later and buy some food for our Chalet. Useful bit of King's Cross info - there is actually a supermarket in the area! A Tesco Metro on Caledonian Road. We loaded up on mulled wine and spiced rum and then went and got our hi-speed train to Ashford. 8minutes from King's Cross to Stratford International! I'm going to be dining out on that for months. It's pushed the 'Patrick Stewart owns a pied a terre in Bermondsey' fact right out. We changed at Ashford and then went onto Rye, sharing a train with 20/30 something, middle class clearly ATP ticket holding people. Straight off the train onto 'The Wave' bus (I never really thought I'd say 'a one-way ticket to Pontins, please') and then we arrived in what has got to be the most budget holiday camp in the world. I think you get a sense of these things when your first glance sees a huge Nisa advertising three bottles of wine for £15 in your eyeline.
I went to get our wristbands from a ticket desk in a Pirate Ship (later when we asked for directions to stage 1, the guy told us to head up through the Octopus' mouth. There's a theme clearly), causing a massive amount of what I think was un-warranted confusion as I explained I'd sold my ticket online via viagogo and didn't have any contact details of the guy we were sharing a cabin with. I assumed he could just exchange his ticket for a key and get himself in that way. Apparently that's ridiculous. I got his wristband and went to the cabin where Paddy called his mate who worked at viagogo in the hope that she could get Chris Bunting from Farnham's contact details. We eventually got a message to Chris with our room number and he turned up. He felt really awkward sharing our cabin and promised he wouldn't be in our way much even as we tried to convince him it was absolutely fine. He'd bought a ticket too! I think he was just terribly British and polite. He was in his late 30s and was Director of Leisure for Ealing Local Authority (FACT OF THE DAY Ealing has 155 parks) and had just come to ATP alone because he loved the bands. His music knowledge was brilliant.
Chris Bunting from Farnham left to go see some bands, and after a little dawdling and making up the beds in our twin room, we headed out to meet Paddy's friends. Paddy had gone to school with their mate Will Priestley (he's always announced with a surname) and Jimmy, Tom and Siobhan (Shiv) had met Will Priestley at university. They were a good bunch. Tom had seen the National 27 times. This December was the ten year anniversary of his first gig. I also spent a lot of time talking to another friend-of-friend called Lauren. She ran a nightclub with a friend in Stoke Newington and had worked on the door at an old uni friend Paul Richards' club night (Scared to Dance at Kings Cross Social Club). Small world.
We watched Kronos Quartet and Bear in Heaven then headed back to the others' apartment which turned out to be immediately overhead of ours. We played music, drank lots of prosecco and I found myself having a deep chat with a guy from Luxembourg who had been invited to the party. I was a little tipsy, so I imagine my conversation was dire and probably limited to 'isn't the capital of Luxembourg, Luxembourg?'.
End of day 67.
