We spent the early hours of Sunday morning in the market place. There was a big thing going on in the pub with a (by all accounts) excellent Beatles tribute band playing. However, we were old men and women and our feet ached from standing all day and we elected to go somewhere quieter for a few drinks. In the end, I think I only had two and then went to bed.
I awoke to find a text message from K thanking me for the book. It was her birthday and I had found an enormously heavy collected novels of Jane Austen, (complete with illustrations that I hope were from the original prints of the books, but which frustratingly gave no clues as to their provenance). Her main present was a charm bracelet, but since I wouldn't trust me (and K___ most certainly wouldn't trust me) to choose jewellery, she was very much aware of the fact she was getting that!
Sunday lined up much as Saturday had, but with two key differences; the quiz was on the main stage with the winners of the pub quiz vs the band, and then the final merch shift involved counting up and packing the remaining merch and getting it back onto the 18 wheeler.
As I walked down to the 'Market Dome' where merch was based, I called K___ to wish her a happy birthday, and she filled me in on what her sisters had bought her and how Olivia was doing. She was fine, although K___ was finding it hard to cope once her mother retired for the evening. Again, I felt bad for not being around, even if it was with full approval. I made a promise to make up for it next year and now I've put it up here, I can be held to it too!
En route to merch, and with time to spare, I was fortunate enough to run into an American couple who had got engaged on the main stage the previous night and was able to interview them about the charity they run to support victims of Cambodian land mines through their college education. It was an inspiring story, and their words certainly made me think about how lucky Olivia was to grow up in a country where she doesn't have to contend with those sorts of challenges, to a family who loves her. Mind you, that won't stop her claiming that she wishes we weren't her parents when she gets to her teenage years, I don't expect!
The first merch stint was quite smooth and it didn't seem long before we were heading off for a quick briefing session before the quiz. I had to run back to my chalet to get my iPod on which were the messed-about-with sound clips that would be one of the rounds. Once back, we ran over the questions with the two chaps presenting the quiz, A___ and J__, and J____ who would do the scoring. I'd done it last time, in 2005 and hadn't really enjoyed the experience, so I was glad that although I would still be on stage, it would be hidden at the back, and just to operate the iPod when required.
A___ and J__ were great; they were funny and engaging and despite a rather embarrassing incorrect answer that hadn't been picked up by any of us, it went well. Everyone cheered when the band won a convention quiz, I think I'm right in saying, for the first time. Afterwards, there was a brief Q&A session and then the whole thing was over and rather sooner than we had anticipated. This was a bit of a result as it gave those of us on merch time to grab a meal before the 'load out'. As we left the main stage, we were astonished to see some people filing out of the exits only to start queuing for the evening show, some four hours hence. Personally, I can't understand that attitude. I'm a freely-admitted geek when it comes to this band, but there are limits, for God's sake!
Once we got to merch, we set about counting up the remaining stocks of each t-shirt design. Fortunately, we didn't have to count the CDs and DVDs otherwise it would have taken three times longer. Once the doors finally closed, we reported the numbers to the Merch Queen (G____) and sealed 'em up to be chucked into cages. Then there was a bit of an arse-up. The rep from Center Parc's came up and told us that the kitchens were overwhelmed and the cooks had refused to let the merch team drag heavy cages of merch through their kitchens. This was a rather major problem, since this was the only route by which we could get the merch down from the first floor in the service lifts. To wait meant that we might miss the show and none of us wanted that. G_____ negotiated that one person would be allowed into the kitchens and we managed to get the stuff out albeit a little more slowly than we had planned. Once downstairs, we made our way to the back of main stage and hefted it all up into the back of the 18 wheeler that was ready to receive the backline and lighting rig as soon as the show ended.
There was enough time to see the support band, but tired again (my feet have never ached so much!), we opted for a sit down and a beer in the pub instead. After that, I texted K___ to say that I hoped Olivia had been good and that I was looking forward to being home the next day.
The show was amazing. In some respects, it wasn't the most imaginative of setlists, but only because the band knows all too well what its 'big guns' are. Playing two slabs of Fish-era material only made the crowd even happier and we all sang along lustily for two hours until the final encore, and off the cuff reprise of Hocus Pocus that sent the crowd wild.
Afterwards, it was another night in the slightly more chilled out bars of the Market Zone, rather than the pub and an earlyish one at that. Our bus back to Amsterdam wasn't due to leave until 11, but even so, I packed up a lot of my things before I retired.
The next day, I awoke at about seven thirty and grabbed a shower before cooking myself some breakfast and collecting my things. An employee walked past as I was dumping our rubbish in the recycling bins and told me that we had to be out of the chalets by 10:30. Well, I was okay, but I knocked on next door but one's door to let the others know the score.
The coach trip in was fine. A chap sitting opposite me entertained us all with a tale of how he'd gone for his flight in shoes that had fallen apart and his doomed attempts to fix them with Sellotape. Once at Schipol, we had a good meal with a couple of mates and then it was a big 'ol wait. Fortunately, we bumped into fans everywhere we turned and had some good chats before eventually heading to the departure lounge and the flight home. One result was that I had expected to have to give S____ and V___ a lift home, but as luck would have it, another fan was going past their door, so I was free to head for Grantham.
Now, I am a rationalist, and I don't believe in fate, but if I did, I would have kicked her in the teeth for the evil stunt she pulled on the way home. I was making good time along nice clear roads when I came near to the junction with the M1, at Kegworth. Where I stopped. And waited. A long time. Roadworks on the junction had reduced it to one lane and rather than employ some sort of traffic filtration system (there is a magic system with the wacky name of 'traffic lights' that would have worked a treat) but apparently that was too obvious. Or something. It took an hour and ten minutes to drive fifty yards to the roundabout and get to the exit straight across. Very poor form.
I pulled up in Grantham at about half past eleven at night, worn out. K___ and I had a giant hug and I think she may have told me that I'm never doing that again. I won't lie about the Weekend and say it was crap to spare K___'s feeling. It wasn't crap and she knew it wouldn't be. It was amazing. However, it was also really hard, and so I'm pretty certain I agreed. We sat in the lounge and K___ filled me in on what I'd missed, but eventually, I had to go and see Olivia. 'She hasn't changed,' said K___.
I walked upstairs and opened the bedroom door as quietly as I could. The light from the landing was enough to see by and I could tell that K___ wasn't telling the truth. I know it wasn't deliberate, but simply because she'd seen Olivia every day, but she was different. Rather unexpectedly, she looked much more like me than she had before I left! I was amazed that she could remind me of the photos of me as a child. It must have been the light or something though, because I haven't noticed it in the same way since. She seemed so much more substantial. She couldn't be that much larger than the last time I'd seen her, but she certainly seemed to be!
I didn't wake her up. I knew it wouldn't be long, and I was right. Three o'clock. 'Welcome home, Daddy; I've got a dirty nappy.'
It was good to be back.
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