Freedom @ Littlesea

Littlesea is a quaint little holiday park situated on the South Coast of England, the surrounding countryside compliments it's tranquility and ... oh blah blah... bollocks!! It's the same as all the others. I really couldn't keep up the Judith Charmers routine there, I was making myself ill even trying to.

It's a nice park, a little nicer than most, but contains mostly all the same elements as the others:

1. Caravans, lots of them and many for sale. From the minute you arrive there you have advertisements and leaflets thrown down your throat about what a good deal it would be to shell out £20,000 of your hard-earned pounds for what is essentially a tin box on wheels... with furniture in it. One of the incentives is "Have your holiday costs refunded!" upon a sale. Well considering most of the holiday makers only paid £99 for a week from a Sun Newpaper Promo, I hardly see that as an incentive. Still, it would pay for the Fish, Chips and McDonalds they'd have thrown down their throats that week!

2. Arcades. Where once there were little coffee shops, Information booths, a post office and perhaps even the odd piece of unspoilt land there is now a load of slot machines. Probably as good as a money maker as selling Caravans. They are low maintenance and there's not a shortage of fuckwitts available and willing to beg, borrow and steal (more the latter I should think) to fill up.

3. Fast Food Outlets. Burger King and KFC seem to be the main choice. There's usually a Fish And Chip shop too. Not the place to come if you're on a diet or if you are the conscientious type that at least tries to eat sensibly because you'd end up starving there due to nothing being available anywhere for you to eat. And if you care not for Heart Disease and Obesity, "COME ON IN, YOU'RE IN MOST WELCOMED AND AMONGST GOOD COMPANY!!!"

4. Asbo Scum. Think Vicky Pollard, Wayne and Waynetta from Harry Enfield's Television programme and mutliply their numbers to about 3,000 and that would give you a general week at any Haven or similar holiday park mid August.

Of course I am speaking very generally here, there's also your normal family folk too. Perhaps a lot more so than the Asbo Scum. But as the Asbo Scum tend to draw a lot more attention to themselves than regular Joe Schmo, it's them you tend to think of when accounting your experience, and this time is no different.

The drive down to from Wales to Weymouth (Where Littlesea is situated) was enough for me to never want to get in a car again, the traffic was horrible. What should have been a 3 hour journey turned into over 4 hours. I know it's not a massive margain of a difference but when you're hardly moving in traffic it feels a hell of a lot longer. I now how Michael Douglas felt in the movie Falling Down.

Once there, I rendezvoused with Phil and Jay, got the drums out and set up. Phil and Jay had done everything by the time I had arrived. A little space was left for the kit, with all my mics (that I'd left with Phil) already connected up to relevant cables for channel inputs.

We sound checked and went to a quiet pub for something to eat. The waitress asked me what I'd like to drink, "Tea please" and she replied with "Ok, I think I can arrange that for you!" in a oh-jesus-we-have-an-awkward-bastard-here type of way. I was quite taken back and almost asked her what her problem was? Was Tea such an odd request especially being in the land where Tea is national treasure? I wouldn't have thought so. But instead I said, "Okay, I'll have a Double Vodka and Diet Coke please!" We finished dinner and went to Phil's to hang about before having to get our arses to the gig.

The set ran smoothly, no fuck-ups. Well, one or two but nothing worth mentioning. Truthfully, I cannot remember any of them but I knew it wasn't a perfect gig. My drum solo was crap again. Phil and Jay said it got people going, I suppose I am so oblivious to it as I seem to shut off and don't take note of the audience's reaction. I can't understand why I play solos so bad when there's an audience, when I am alone, I am so much more fluid and inspired. I think it's the fear of an audience listening that clams me up. I don't enjoy it. But it's part of a show that goes down well, so I'll continue doing them for that reason but not enjoy it.

I will say that the crowd were shit. It seems anything other than Eastenders, whatever fucking Premiership Football side they support, Big Brother or some shit such like and they aren't interested. It's a sign of our times, the apathy is in measurable. These bastards care not for 3 people playing and singing their hearts out and doing a fine job (in my humble opinion) in providing a show. No, fuck all in terms of appreciation!

After the show, we set down and went back to Phil's house which is only a few miles away from the Park.

At his house, we chatted for a while before my falling asleep on his couch prompted them to hit the hey themselves.

That night I had the weirdest dream about Aliens (The ones with Sigourney Weaver) invading Gendros and running a mock! It was mostly about the panic to make my mam's house as locked down as I could, meanwhile through gaps in the boarded windows and the letter box of mam's house, I could see them running around outside and attacking a mutalating small children. It was horrible. It was a nightmare, I'd not had one in years!

- One of them horrible Alien fuckers that were wreaking havoc in Gendros in my dream!

It was bit like the gig at Littlesea.