I was on an airplane. I was in a rental car
driving very fast. I was on a ferry crossing from Stranraer in Scotland to
Belfast in Northern Ireland. I was in a hotel in Belfast - the Europa Hotel -
the same hotel I stayed in the first time I came to Ireland back in 1978.
The
Europa Hotel is a four star dump, less salubrious than I remember from the first time
I stayed in it though it's no longer surrounded by barbed wire. It was known during
the troubles as the Hardboard Hotel because the windows were frequently blown
out by bombings. It's on record as being the most bombed hotel in Europe having survived thirty six bombing attacks. I've been told there's an old
commercial hotel somewhere in Belfast that suffered more bombings but the
Europa Hotel is much more high profile so it carries away the glittering but
dubious prize.
My room was on the sixth floor. It
was small and over furnished - a desk, a round table, an office chair, a small
armchair, a wardrobe and a double bed. A frosted glass door lead to a tiny
bathroom with a toilet, shower and washbasin, and a collection of clammy white
towels. The window looked out onto a grey wall and if I sat on the desk and
looked across at an acute angle and downwards I could see the loading door of
the Belfast Opera House.
I don't think this was the room the
Clintons stayed in back in November 1995.
I played in a place called the
Black box. I had no idea what it was going to be like but it was a pleasant
surprise. Amy and I played there a few years ago. I had flu at the time and
some of the audience were old timers who thought I was there to recreate 1978
for them. Some of them turned up again this time but I was on top of it, and
anyway they were outnumbered.
My show was in the afternoon and
afterwards Woody Woodmansey was doing an In Conversation thing. I felt a
strange panic rising up. I wanted to get out before he arrived. He played the drums
on some of my all time favourite records.
I'm not much for meeting celebrities and musical heroes unless they know who I am and what I do and we can meet on an equal footing. Otherwise I'm just some nerdy bloke trying not to ask a load of dumb questions.
I don't know why I worry about that, I've meet plenty of nerdy blokes who ask what they probably think are dumb questions and I love them for it. They're fans, they're into what I do, they're interested, they support me and help keep me going.
I'm not much for meeting celebrities and musical heroes unless they know who I am and what I do and we can meet on an equal footing. Otherwise I'm just some nerdy bloke trying not to ask a load of dumb questions.
I don't know why I worry about that, I've meet plenty of nerdy blokes who ask what they probably think are dumb questions and I love them for it. They're fans, they're into what I do, they're interested, they support me and help keep me going.
What I'm trying to say is I didn't
want Woody Woodmansey to be an arsehole, and if he was I didn't want to find
out about it. I thought it might be better if he remained intact, a concept,
the last surviving Spider From Mars.
I didn't make it out in time. the
promoter was suddenly at my side:
'Eric, I'd like to introduce you to
Woody - Woody this is Eric...'
He was a perfectly approachable
looking Yorkshire sort of bloke. We shook hands.
'Did you really live in
Woodmansey?' I heard myself say, while some other version of me standing off to
the side shouted YOU FUCKING TWAT! at
me through cupped hands.
'Er, well, yeah, for a bit'
'I used to live in Hull' I offered,
by way of an explanation.
'I know you did' he said.
We had a talk about Hull, who's left , what a special place it is. I stayed for his talk and it was absolutely riveting. I didn't join the queue to buy his book, I'll buy it and enjoy it when I get home rather than lug it around with me, fall asleep over it and forget where I'm up to. I know it's going to be good.
We had a talk about Hull, who's left , what a special place it is. I stayed for his talk and it was absolutely riveting. I didn't join the queue to buy his book, I'll buy it and enjoy it when I get home rather than lug it around with me, fall asleep over it and forget where I'm up to. I know it's going to be good.
I met him and his wife again outside, smoking
cigarettes. I thanked him for the talk and we discussed the vagaries of
touring. He wished me the very best of luck. They were nice people.
I went back
to the hotel and watched an episode of Last Tango In Halifax.
