what i did on my holidays fit the fourth
So but then I got to the chalet with the help of my soaking, now quarter-sized map. The site does rather dwarf the one at Camber. But one look at the chalet and it seems worth it. Excellent large TV without a crack in it (with DVD player in some lucky rooms), nice comfy sofas not instrumental in the sleeping arrangements and therefore not inadequate for their purpose, a door without a large dent in from where the TV wasn't thrown at it, the right number of beds, lovely kitchen...probably better than most cheap edinburgh flats actually. I cracked open the cornflakes and a beer, and prepared to go and see Papier Tigre. The plan was to see if they were any good, then if not settle for Mono. So Mono were a bit shit because of the sound and because they only have about 2 songs that don't suck, thus I ended up pissing about until Dinosaur Jr. I bumped into Hannah, which is fast becoming an ATP tradition, and we swapped numbers in case there were any happening chalet parties in the evening.
Dinosaur Jr. were ok. A couple of good songs, a couple of shit ones, a couple ruined by J. Mascis' self-indulgent soloing. Lou Barlow is still pretty much one of the best bass players in the world. After Dinosaur Jr., someone remembered the cup-breaker. This is a technique of obliterating plastic cups by putting weight on an upside down cup with one foot, and kicking it with the other. It completely explodes, it's awesome. Last year, Steven, Mikey and I went for a number of good variations: inviting strangers to kick the cup, putting the cup onto such an object as to make the post-destruction fall rather more precarious (eg the large concrete ball things), having two (or more) people stand on cups and kick each others' simultaneously (or the one to their left). Endless fun. Well, almost endless - they have a finite number of cups obviously.
In defiance of the scheduling, we boycotted Explosions In The Sky who were the only band on next (we put it down to arrogance, but actually it's probably because they didn't want to miss any of the other bands), and went to Scott, Paul, Steven & Mikey's chalet, AKA 'the flat'. It was in an amazing place, about 20 seconds from the entrance to the stages. This was a period of both RD and EB. In the chalet below were several guys, a couple of girls and two babies, all called Ben. This made it easy whenever we saw them, for we only had to remember to say 'Hi Ben' and everything would be OK. One of the Bens' parents was an asparagus grower, so they had a large stash of illicit asparagus in their chalet, some of which they plan to give to Ghostface Killer. I think he would have been distinctly nonplussed with this gift. Last year they had given some to Nick Cave (via Warren Ellis), who I imagine would have been slightly more plussed.
We missed the Octopus Project because we're fucking idiots, missed the Paper Chase because they're fucking idiots, and missed Four Tet because everyone else is a fucking idiot. Actually the last two of those are not strictly true. I didn't really like the Paper Chase (or should i say pApEr ChAsE?), even though I have a couple of their records. And I saw a bit of Four Tet, but left about 3 songs in because I wasn't enjoying it (the fifth time I have seen him and not made it to the end of the set).
After becoming a little worse for wear with a few pints and a dance in the Crazy Horse, we decided to go trampolining. Unfortunately Butlins security had other ideas. I managed a good few minutes before we had to scramble out of there. A girl who I had helped get in got out with the help of adrenaline. Some people got away, but I was confronted with a bouncer. With Martin motioning for me to run away the whole time, I had a conversation with her that went roughly like this:
"Sorry, sorry."
"Where are you staying?"
"Er...in the village...sorry, we were just-"
"Holnicote Village?"
"Yeah. Sorry, we won't do it again."
"Which chalet?"
"Umm.." (replies with random letter/number combination)
"And the others?"
"Ummm... sorry. We're all in the same chalet, it's a 7 person one. Sorry."
(relaying information to some kind of security hellcentre) "What name is the chalet under?"
(pick random name pick random name pick random name) "Uh.. James. Sorry."
"James what?"
"Ummmm...." (racks brain, for some reason incapable of conjuring a random surname) "Uh... oh my god what is his name? I just know him as James...sorry." (looks round at others) "Does anyone know what James' surname is?"
"You should really know what his surname is if you're staying in his chalet."
"Yeah..." (looks down at the ground, sad, stretching minimal acting skills, a bad friend to an imaginary James, admonished by a security guard for it, general air of regret in eyes) "I really should... shouldn't I?"
(calls off armed security, rabid dogs, FBI, co-opted helicopters and tanks, war hippos, US Navy, nuclear backup) "Ok." (turns away, walkie-talkieing)
We ran. Pretty glad we didn't suffer the heavy handed approach we were to see later in the weekend.
I think this was the night we went to someone called Alan's chalet and listened to some tunes, then ended up in the adventure playground. I climbed up the inside of a closed twisty green slide, and it was literally the hardest thing i've ever done. The lack of grip on my shoes meant I had to go up on my back with my feet pushing on the enclosing bit to avoid falling back down. I ached in the morning. Then Steven went and did it really easily, without having to use the ceiling. I blame the shoes. A random also tried, his 'success' (pyrrhic victory) was 'inspired' (physically aided) by the person 'pulling' (pulling) him up from the top. They got it on camera though, so I guess he's the only one that'll be remembered. And in the end, that's what counts. I also saw someone I recognised come past and then suddenly realised it was Pablo of My Kappa Roots. He was insanely grateful to be rcognised and for his music to be complimented. It was nice. On the way home I was accosted by a guy with a trolley, who invited me for a ride. Be aware, dear reader, that this was not the kind of trolley with sides, and a condition of the ride was that I had to stand. Of course I accepted. I emerged, you'll be pleased to know, exhilarated and unscathed. Then I watched another guy doing 1080s and attempted ollies on one, which was fun.
Clearly bedtime. SWH.