Island Hideaway 27 - The Frank and Walters
By Terrence Oblong
- 292 reads
"Can I borrow your orange ski jacket?" I said to Kaz. Kaz was the record librarian, a business studies student, all Dorset twang and cardigans, she'd taken to being there when Andy had a show and had started hanging out with us because we were completely unlike business studies students.
"No," she said firmly, "Stop taking the piss." Eddie and I had exchanged a few jokes about said ski jacket since she had taken to wearing it everywhere.
In spite of our tease, there was one place, outside of an Austrian skiing holiday, where wearing an orange ski jacket was a sensible fashion choice.
"It's for the Frank and Walters gig tonight," I said.
"The Frank and Walters?" she said suspiciously. "Why would you want an orange ski jacket for a Frank and Walters gig?"
"'Cause the band dress in orange, so obviously, I want to blend in."
"You really want it?" she said. "It's not another of your terrible jokes."
"No, it'll be perfect. I wouldn't feel properly dressed without an orange ski jacket."
"You realise I'll quote you on that. And I'll want photos."
"Photos? Who takes a camera to a gig?"
"You're a journalist, aren't you? Won't you have photographs to accompany your article?"
Unfortunately, Kaz was right. I was interviewing the band in the studio before the gig, and would do a feature on the band for the student newspaper, so I would have my camera with me. I'd just meant it to be for the band, not for pictures of me in an orange ski jacket.
I went to the gig with Mo, and Phil from the radio station - he'd agreed to be the official photographer. Eddie was supposed to be there, but there was no sign of him, which was odd, we had very few bands come to Swansea and he had previously been to every gig, no matter how bad.
"Is Eric not coming?" I asked Mo.
She pulled a face, a po-face, or what I like to call a Mo-face.
"No, it's against God's will apparently."
Kaz wasn't coming, had she known that the band always wore orange she might have come, just for the pleasure it would give her ski jacket, but she wasn't interested. Not long after the gig the band would have a top 5 hit, but at the time they were unknown. Such nobodies, in fact, that they had agreed to an interview on the student radio station. I volunteered myself, Phil and Mo hung around to check that I behaved. Mostly I did, though when I asked the band for autographs I accidentally triggered a period of madness, as, when it became clear that I had nothing for them to sign, they went round the studio signing everything in sight, starting with the station's singles chart, pinned to the wall, which they first signed, then fiddled, putting their song at number 1, then signed the amendment. They then signed bits of wall, random singles and CDs and even the glass window separating the main studio from the room I was interviewing them in. It didn't leave a mark, it being pen on glass, but they were determined by that stage.
Eventually, lacking obvious bits of paper to sign, they signed my arm, of which Phil took a photo which I still use as a screensaver.
In the queue for the gig I saw Yvette from my philosophy tutorial group. Typical really, on the unique occasion where I would be able to impress her, "Oh yeah, I know that band," I was wearing a ridiculous orange ski jacket. What made it worse is that although the band wore orange on stage, nobody else in the queue was wearing orange, let alone a hideous item of clothing like Kaz's ski jacket.
"Hi," she said, smiling, the way you do when someone you vaguely know is wearing a ridiculous item of clothing.
"Hi," I said, not missing a chance. "You here for the gig?"
"Er, yeah, that's why I'm in the queue for the gig."
At this point, Phil leapt in. "Do you fancy coming back stage after the gig and meeting the band."
"Really?" Yvette said.
"Yeah," said Phil, "We know the band. Terrence interviewed them for the radio station."
"You know the band? Wow.”
"There's more to me than an encyclopaedic knowledge of Plato's Republic," I said, ever the wag.
"See you after the gig then," she said.
"We'll meet you in front of the stage," Phil said.
Yvette went to re-join her friends in the queue. "Thanks Phil," I said. "Don't try stealing my women or anything."
"I was doing you a favour," Phil said. "You'd have never dared to invite her backstage."
"That's because I don't know if I'll be able to get backstage. I've done the interview now."
"You're an idiot Terrence, of course you'll get backstage. That's why you need me. Say that the photos didn't come out and you need a couple more. You can even get Yvette to pose with the band, signing autographs or something."
"Not more autographs," I said. "I don't think I could stand it."
I was in the front for the gig, moshing frantically, I didn't catch sight of Yvette. Phil and Mo were with me for a while, but retreated to the back after Funky Cold Medina, blaming a lack of stamina.
I wasn't being very clever. By the end of the gig I was a sweaty, stinking mess, T-shirt wet with sweat and ski jacket long since abandoned, not the best preparation for my 'date' with Yvette. Worst, I realised, my autograph had completely washed off. Thank god for Phil's photo.
I waited by the front of the stage. To my delight Yvette arrived, looking not remotely sweaty. Phil and Mo arrived shortly after. "We're going to go Terrence," Phil said, "Mo’s not feeling great so I'm going to walk her home."
"Okay," I said, openly confident. Inwardly I was a mess. I dreaded the humiliation of being turned away by the band, but I had little choice now.
We went to the side of the stage, through a door that led to their dressing room. I knocked, opened the door and held up my camera. "Photos didn't come out," I said confidently, "Could I get some more. I've brought a fan, I thought you could pose with her.
"Sure thing," said Paul, the lead singer, "I could sign autographs or something." He looked happy, like a man that had just found out he was destined to have a top five hit in two months’ time. I took a couple of photos of the band with Yvette, then left her to talk to Paul. We were the only people in the room besides the band so I said hello to Ashley, as Neil was engrossed in a video game of some kind. The band were surprisingly talkative, I guess fuelled by the adrenaline of a gig, and even shared their rider with us, cans of Fosters. Utterly disgusting, of course, but it was the first (and indeed only) time I'd ever been offered a drink by a rock star, so I was hardly going to turn it down.
"We need to go," the band said, eventually. "We're playing in Margate tomorrow, we can give you a lift if you like."
"No thanks, I live on campus," Yvette said.
"And I'm the other direction," I said.
"Thanks for taking me backstage," Yvette said, as we left.
"No problem. I'll let you have the photos when they're developed."
I stopped at a vending machine to get a Coke, but it was out.
"There's a machine in my halls," Yvette said. "You can get one there."
"Okay," I said, and followed her to her halls. That machine was working so I bought a Coke.
"I've got some gin in my room if you fancy gin and Coke," she said.
'You fucking mad woman, gin doesn't go with Coke', I didn't say, as she wasn't inviting me back to her room for gin and Coke. She was asking me back to her room.
xxx
The next morning, I woke with the confidence of a young man who had finally managed to have his wicked way with a woman he'd fancied the whole of last term. I leave you to ponder the near-eternity of that, an entire term of unrequited love, suddenly equitted.
I tried to recreate the experience, but she wasn't interested.
"I've got a lecture," she said. Yvette was joint honours Philosophy and English, so though we had overlap we had different timetables.
"So," I said uncertainly as we dressed and I donned my ski jacket, "Can I see you tonight or something?"
"Something sounds good," she said. "I'm busy tonight though, I'll see you on Thursday and we can make plans," Thursday was our Philosophy tutorial.
"Sure," I said. I had a second date, albeit the 'date' was a Philosophy tutorial we were both going to anyway.
Kaz lived just off campus, so I ran round there, ostensively to return the ski jacket, but mainly because I wanted to tell someone I was 'going out with' Yvette.
She took a while to answer the door, and I burst in and enthusiastically
It took me a while to notice that Eddie was standing in the kitchen, topless and sockless, in just his jeans.
"Fantastic, Terrence," Eddie said. "Sorry I missed the gig, something came up. I ended up seeing Kaz instead."
"Oh," I said, realisation dawning, "No problem. I recorded the interview, you can listen to it later. You'll hate it." (He did).
"I must meet this Yvette," Kaz said. "We could do a foursome some time." So it was official. Not only were they going out, they were already at the foursome stage.
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Comments
Ah, the "nothing but a ski
Ah, the "nothing but a ski jacket" romantic scenario. Memories, indeed. At least there's Yvette.
Parson Thru
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