Rock and Blues '97

1st to 3rd July 1997

OK. I confess. I'm way, way late writing this one up so if it all seems at bit vague, well that's the way it is. In fact even AWOL have got there ahead of me (thanks for taking me picture lads and lasses, pity you didn't answer me email and let me use it).

Jethro Tull
Ian and the boys did a storming good show, dispite running out of gas

Friday morning saw us doing bog all. By about midday Bell, Spam, Dav and me had got our collective shit together and off we went. One boring ride down the motorway later we where in the long muddy queue to the site.
"Oh shit here we go again", I thought "I'm going to fall off and make an arse of myself". Oddly enough I didn't and soon enough we're all on the dry bit of the site and riding up and down the alleys looking for the rest of the Darlington contingent. Failing to find anyone and now, with the rest of 'em gasping for a smoke, we stake a claim and stop.

Karen, Paddy and Dav
OK, you can't see Dav but you should recognise the beard by now

We've hardly got the tents up when Pablo appears, then Karen and offspring (Nicky, Daniel and Emmerly the alcoholic). By the time Karen's finished erecting tents, awnings, patio's, swimming pools, igloos, bunkers, etc. our sparten claim is starting to look like a major metropolis.

The youngest alcoholic...

Into this rapidly expanding municipal township comes the Three Idiots of the Impossilips. Long Tall John, Giggling Gary and Prosperous Paddy. Their two mighty steeds leaking oil quietly as they face that intellectual challenge of erecting the tents.
Some time later we're thoroughly bollocked and staggering to the central arena..

If you've never been to the Rock and Blues it's a revelation on how to organise a rally. The huge camping field is split into rows, so it's a doddle to get the bikes in and out and, perhaps more importantly, find your tent later on. The camping site and about half of the stalls are situated in an arc around a fenced off central arena. This central arena is the focus of the event with the remainder of the stalls, various rides and of course the main stage, itself situated in a slight of a hollow.
OK, you get the picture? The Outlaws, who run this show, really have their shit together.

Friday night passes they way all Friday nights at rallies do ... The main band is the fat guy out of the Commitments. Not good.

Pablo - bulk and stupidity in one body

Saturday decides to continue hot and sunny so we all go for a ride. I've got Pablo's, not inconsiderable, bulk on the back of the bike. Hummm
Anyway we head towards Matlock Bath cos it's supposed be a hoot. It's jamb packed with traffic. We have lunch and set off to find some twisties. We all get separated.
Well OK, Pablo and me get separated. Failing to find anything resembling a halfway empty road we head back to the site.

Once back on the site a nasty rumour spreads that Jethro Tull have cancelled.
Fortunately it turns out to be just that, a nasty rumour. The evenings outrage starts very early.
The carnivores head off to buy some raw meat for tea and come back with, what looks like, the squiggly bits that come out of rabbits when you run them over. Only a sort of greyish brown colour. Very appetising. I don't know what it was, nor do I want to, but it made Paddy's eyes turn bright red and water. Is food meant to do that? Vodka appears, intelligence buggers off. Mass giggling starts, for about a hour Gary is helpless. As soon as he gains control, the slightest comment set him off again.

Paddy's autopsy
this picture can't do justice to what a disgusting mess it was

Eventually we wobble off to the main arena.
I have a wander about and eventually bump into Scott and Sue (you can't help it, the buggers get everywhere), the rest set up base camp to watch the bands. After the obligatory play on the dodgems, go in the simulator and nosey around the stalls we head back to base camp. Everybody get wasted and eventually Tull come on.
I've waited years to see Tull (about 15 in fact) and half way through the fourth song the P.A. commits suicide. I'm distraught. Pablo, one of natures tinkerers with mixing desks, announces that he thinks it's fucked big time. It turns out the generator has run out of gas, one quick siphoning session later the show continues.
And what an excellent show. Pity the bastards didn't play "Minstrel In The Gallery".

there's no pleasing some people
Jethro Tull are in full swing, John sleeps on...

Later the strippers and such like appear. Seen one tit and you've seen 'em all. If I can't get me teeth into 'em I'm not interested. Sorry and all that but voyeurism has never been my thing.

I wander back to the tents for me caffeine fix. Soon enough the rest of the party appear (sporting tired wrists and shaky legs) to continue the party.

...it's all too much for Gary, who has a quite snooze...

Sunday and we head off home. Gary's Honda is now burning oil like a sick two stroke, which doesn't slow him down in the slightest. In fact I navigate from the smell of burning 10/40. By the time we get home Gary reckons he's got through £25's worth of oil over the weekend! Silly bugger.

Eee, what a good show.

email steve@harriet80.freeserve.co.uk