Nottingham

Today is another free day for Municipal Waste, another gig for us.

I wake up earlier than I had hoped. Back in the room I had called my own for the first ten years of my life. I later moved into the larger room at the back of the house during my teenage years, my younger sister relegated to the smaller room I'm lying in right now. I don't know what it is but my mum has an amazing skill of making the most comfortable beds. Maybe it's the comfort of home, I don't know. I lie in bed for at least a good hour after waking though, just enjoying the soft matress.

The othe guys are spread about the house sleeping in beds my mum had so kindly fixed before we got back last night. I leave them to their well earned sleep and go downstairs for a cup of tea with my parents. It's great to see them as always.

The rest of the guys awake to an english breakfast ala mum. They all seem really satisfied with it. We sit around the tv for a while watching Andy Murray getting his ass scumped in the Australian Open Tennis Final by Roger Federer. We don't have to leave for Nottingham until at least 3.30pm today so we can take it nice and easy. Cups of coffee flow in and out as we sit around the tv watching the tennis. Wonderful not to think about touring for a little while.

My best mate Snitch pops his head through the door around lunchtime. He lives in York these days, we'll be staying at his flat on Tuesday night after the Leeds show, but he's he's back for the weekend visiting our home town. The lot of us, along with dad, head to the local pub around the corner for a Sunday lunch time pint. I've been telling the guys about this pub since we left from Stockholm. The Rockingham Arms, or the Rock as it's known to us, is my absolute favourtie public house in the world. It looks like something from a scene in Trainspotting, pure filfth. The regulars, who are there every single day, morning to night, are all faces I've grew up with. My Grandmother used to tend the bar here...it's pretty rough in here and some people are intimidated by it, but I love it. The beer is tasty and most likely, the cheapest in the land. What more do you need? One lunch time pint turns into three. Johan and Andy decide to take a walk into town after the first of the pints, I wish them good luck and head back to the bar. Myself, dad, Snitch and Jon engage in conversation over another couple of the Rock's finest ale.

Sadly, time flies and before long we have to leave. I hug my mum and dad goodbye and tell them we'll be back on Wednesday night after the Boston show. I decide to guide the boys along the scenic route to Nottingham. As much as Corby could easily be described as a rough little town, maybe even ugly, the surrounding countryside is in my opinion, the finest in the land. The view from the top of Rockingham Hill over the Nene Valley, just as you leave Corby, is idilic English country. We weave our way through the villages of Caldecott and Uppingham and on through Oakham (my mum's home town) and Melton Mowbray. For possibly the first time since I moved to Sweden, I feel a pang of longing for my home land. Maybe I could one day return here, a house out here in this beautiful countryside. I don't know if it's just the fact that the sun is setting over a beautiful, clear winters day, lighting up the fields that spread as far as the eye can see, but I feel a longing I've never felt before. I sit up front in the van guiding Johan to Nottingham, staring at the passing scenery.

We get to Nottingham right on time to load in. Our friend Henry, who played in Army of Flying Robots and now plays in Dead in the Woods, who are alos playing the show tonight, meets us as we arrive. I'd heard from Kev that the Chameleon Cafe, tonight's venue, was a great new DIY spot. He'd been here to see Gasmask Terror a few weeks ago and was raving about the place. We load in trough the tight alleyway beside the neighbouring bar, and up through the narrow stairs into the tiny room we're playing tonight. The first thing you notice is that the PA is fucking huge! It's gonna be as loud as hell in here later. The other thing I happen to notice is the floor area we're playing on, behind the monster PA, seems to be laden with rubber mats. I can feel my legfs aching already.

We get set up, soundcheck, and then head down to the bar area downstairs and eat some punk curry. It's good, if not a little cold, but a meal is a meal, always. We have to go buy ourselves some beer, since the miserable old bastard behind the bar makes it clear we're getting fuck all from him, no compliments of the house. Nothing unusual per say, it's just typical British treatment. Maybe you really do get spoiled on the mainland, or maybe it's just that you just get treated like a human being there. Who knows?...

Anyway, instead of giving the old fucker any of our money, we head to the nearest Tescos and buy some beer and wine. We subtly tuck into it during the other band sets. Dead in the Woods are fucking amazing! I enjoy every minute of their set and swap an lp with them afterwards. Their guitar player Andy, who also played in Robots, is great on stage.

I check out the other bands in small parts, but spend most of the night talking to my old friend, James, who I grew up with in Corby. He plays in a band called Fists with his girlfroend Angie these days. It seems to be going well for them, they just played some shows with Obits, Rick Froberg's new band. I'm a little jealous. James sang in the first band I ever played in, Morphine, when I was fourteen years old. We have a laugh about the old days over a beer. He tells me he was worried before coming tonight that he wouldn't look punk enough. He tells me that when he first spotted me his fears were soon erased! I guess I'm not too much into that look myself, I'm more into buying the records than the safety pins and the boots.

As we're talking, a guy called Ben comes up and intoduces himself to me. It turns out that he plays in a great band called Jealous, whom Speedhorn's old bass player, Dave, had tried out for after we split up. Myself and Kev had highly encouraged Dave to join them but typical of him, he backed away. Ben tells me Dave said to say his sorry but he won't be making it tonight. Funny. I haven't heard from Dave in ages and knew nothing about his supposed coming to tonight's show. If I had know in advance, I certainly would not have been surprised by his failure to show up anyway. I love him, but he's a bit of a flake. I hear him and Jay have a new indie band together and have turned their backs on hardcore, well Jay anyway. I can't say I blame them after some of the experiences we had with Speedhorn. I'm still here though, and tonight I'm loving it.

I really enjoy hanging out with James. He seems really intrested in the crust and hardcore scene. We talk for a while about it. He's not really involved in it, but he's always been interested in different social scenes and lifestyles. He really enjoys the show tonight, as do I. There are about fifty people here and the atmosphere is ace. I had briefly chatted with Gords earlier, the Geriatric Unit singer. Andy had asked me if I thought whether Steve, their drummer and legend from his days in Heresy, would turn up. He does and Andy turns into the excited punk rock school boy he is.

The show is fun. There are a couple of typical punks down the front, giving it the usual interaction. ”Play faster!” and the likes. Everywhere you go you get the same crack. It seems to be a crust punk thing. They seem to love it anyway. At the end of the set I go to walk off, knackered and dripping with sweat, only to be blocked by this one shouter guy, who pushes me back on to the makeshift stage, demanding more songs. We oblige with Destroy and Rebuild and Another Way to Die, before finally finsishing for the night. I walk off and the first person that grabs me is Steve Heresy, who hugs me and tells me it was great! I don't think he recognises me even though we'd met a few times. He's drunk as usual. I tell him thanks and that Kev says hello, to which he looks confused, ”Oh, yeah yeah, great!” he says. Kev and Steve had played together in the short lived 666 Dead. They only released one 7”, which was fucking ace! We had the honour of playing a gig with them in the early Speedhorn days.

We hang out for a while, swapping records, buying records from the distro downstairs. Gords and I talk about doing some Geriatric Unit/Victims shows in Scandinavia at some point in the future. I hope that happens. I meet Andy later and he delightedly tells me he met Steve. Steve had also told Andy he loved the show and I think Andy's whole tour has just been made.

We pack out eventually, I say goodbye to James and we hang out with Henry and the DITW guys on the streets for a while. I think a few of them are coming to Boston on Wedensday. It will be afterall, Burning the Prospect's final show.

We get in the van and head towards Glasgow. We pull into a Travelodge somewhere just outside of Manchester. Johan and I share a room and a double bed. Neither of us mind. We lie in bed drinking tea and watching late nate news.

Today was a good day.