Gatecrasher Line-up

I did see a number of artists over the weekend – and needless to say I probably cannot remember them all, however for anyone interested here are my grades of some of them.

Paul Oakenfold – Noted as one of the greatest Trance DJs of all time he produced a harder trance set than usual but worked though some good mixes. He threw in some samples from a few of his albums that I recognised (and had “Southern Sun” from Bunkka - one of my all time favourite tracks). The tent was rigged with the usual lasers, fireworks and giant screens that were used to full advantage. All in all a grand performance that I was impressed to be in attendance of. An A+ when comparing to any other act in the arena but by Oakies standard: A-

Alex Metric – He played a wicked beats set early on in the day that I am not usually a fan of. He kept the tempo consistent with the crowd and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Having never heard of him I was definitely impressed with his set enough to want to further investigate some of his work: B+

Chicane – They got started rather well but seemed to drag themselves into a repetitive slumber about midway through. They could of definitely done better in the playlist but I believe they were resting on the “live band experience” to pull them through: C

Paul Van Dyke – This was a hard one to judge as I caught the first and last parts of the set which I believed were rather good (prossibly worthy of an A). However others that saw the set as a whole tell me he went awol in the middle with some strange mixing. So on that basis have decided: B

DJ Yoda – On the name alone I was intrigued to see how this went but it was good to see that his mixing included not only the sound but was integrated into the visuals on screen. Maybe I was swayed by some of the Star Wars clips but it was very well done: B+

Prodigy – Having seen these guys about 10 years ago (and not remembering them to be impressive) I wasn’t jumping out of my shoes to catch them. The set itself was good but I can only imagine it hasn’t changed in the last 10 years: B-

Audio Bullies – These guys had a very English crowd there that annoyed the socks off me. I felt it was the same poxies that usually hit the drum and bass stages – although a bit more savage. The set was opened with “Shot you down” (the sampled Nancy Sinatra song) that went on for a little too long. It did get the crowd into it. Unfortunately that’s the same song they ended the set with and by that stage I was looking to be shot down: D

Chemical Brothers - Unfortunately due to the inclement weather the Chemical Brothers could not play on the main stage. Other bands were relocated to tents but due to CB’s popularity they were cancelled amid fears for peoples safety with overcrowding of tents: F

The one with the Festival

(I had thought to name this “The Running Man part III (The Sleeping Man)” but decided against it to give him a reprieve this week)

Last weekend I went to the Summer Sounds Festival up near Silverstone with my cousin and a few of our mates. We were fortunate enough to be driven there by Chrystal (which led me to quote one of my favourite bands – when somebody asked me how we were getting to the festival I got to reply “We are taking the Crystal Method”) however the other less fortunate lads had to get a bus there. This meant we had the luxury of leaving for the festival when we wanted.

The story began on the Friday night, when I had decided to catch up with the Running man in Clapham Junction for a couple of pints after work. The Wolf and his flatmate also came along. Unbeknownst (yes - I had to spell check that one) to me they had arranged to head to a birthday party in Clapham Common for a girl they new. As this was close to the tube station on the line to my place (Clapham Junction is not) I thought this to be a good idea.

We proceeded to the bar and found out that our table received free shots for booking in advance. This was rather good considering there was about 7 of us – although we told the barkeep there was 20 of us (for a couple of shots each) which set the tone for the evening. Just after midnight I realised my last tube would be soon so I made a hasty goodbye to everyone and departed for home. Needless to say I was in a rather drunken state but managed to find my way home and into bed.

I got up about 9 (with a rather sore head) to make my way to Chrystal’s to go for a quick shop and grab a lift to the festival. Having seen 3 missed calls from the Running man (logged at around 3am) I figured the festivities must of dragged on further into the evening. The drive was rather long (bank holiday traffic is a nightmare I am told) so I took the opportunity to grab a few extra z’s on the backseat.

Once we arrived we carried our gear (probably only a mile but seemed like I was walking 10 with a collection of gym weights), set up the tents and headed into the arena. At this stage I texted a few of the boys with no response. I didn’t find this particularly surprising considering the event of the festival.

As the afternoon progressed into the evening we headed to the main stage where I was confronted by a very desperate Running man exclaiming, “Holy shit I can’t believe I found you!” He then proceeded to tell me the past events of the evening. Basically, he had not really remembered me leaving the bar – and certainly had not remembered how he got home, but woke up at around 11.45am with his bus leaving at midday. Not really knowing what his next move should be he frantically searched for his phone only to come up empty. (At almost a simultaneous moment in his recap my phone buzzed a message from the Wolfe enquiring as to whether or not I had seen the Running Man, apparently they had been calling him for the last 9 hours trying to find out what had happened). After he realised he didn’t have a phone the Running Man headed into the bus station to see if he could grab a lift on one of the later ones. It had taken until the last bus of the day for a spare seat to crop up, but he was finally on his way around 3pm. I am still at a loss how he had expected to find anyone at a festival of 60,000 punters, with no phone or clue where to look for people. I guess it is one of the good things about these events – you do actually bump into people regardless of how packed it gets.

The festival had fantastic weather (I don’t know how to type sarcasm but the last sentence was soaked with it). The wind howled, the rain fell from the sky and the pitch turned muddier than last nights curry. I was rather glad I had gotten a half decent tent as everyone else I know ended up sleeping in a river. By the Monday afternoon, with the wind and rain still causing havoc I decided to ditch the tent where it lay, and not surprisingly estimated at least 90% of my fellow campers had done the same.

The drive home was met with another well deserved sleep and I would have to say a rather good weekend was had by all. Unfortunately on the first night a man was found dead in one of the tents. The circumstances have not been released but I must say it is good to go to a festival with a group of close friends so that everyone looks after each other.

I will now post my highlights in case any of you were wondering my thoughts

The one with the Clown Shoes

I have often wondered what a sure-fire way of approaching girls was without immediately getting rejected. Last Friday night I believe to have found what could be described as being the closest. In my search for the solution it appeared that I had not thought ‘outside of the box’. It is not the process of approaching the girl that is the key – just the fact that the conversation is initiated.

Friday night began by gathering at a friends house who I had worked with in Perth, to have a couple of pre-drinks before heading out. He lived in a nice area in Clapham Common. There were a few people there and we had the Nintendo Wii cranking to get into the party mode. On a side note may I suggest you not play the Olympics game on this before you go out because it relies on some pretty intense physical activity that will draw a massive sweat.

Anyway we played a number of different events that had us all in stitches. I was a little while into my second beer before I noticed the footwear that the Wolf had chosen to don for the evening – clown shoes. I was wondering how I had missed these as they stood out fairly prominently. The background on the shoes was that on a trip to Dublin the previous week, the Wolf had picked them up rather inebriated. This was confirmed by the ‘left’ and ‘right’ scrawled on them in case it wasn’t clear which feet to put them on. The shoes themselves looked like oversized bowling shoes, were about twice as long as normal, half red, half yellow, with a massive bulge at the end like somebody’s toes had been attacked by a mallet.

After we had downed a couple of more beverages we decided to head to a bar and to my surprise the Wolf continued to wear the shoes. We arrived at a place in the Common called the People’s Republic (a cocktail bar of sorts). I had grabbed my drink and gotten a good possie to see if the Wolf actually was allowed in. He was let in and to my further surprise the bouncers did not even bat an eyelid.

This is where the shoes begin to work there magic. However silly they look, once the females caught sight of the shoes they were instantly intrigued. I am not sure if it is in their genes but I found that something inside of them wanted to find out more. As I spoke to the Wolf, ladies started to come up to begin conversations with him, and the subject was rarely about the shoes. I pondered this further and realised they didn’t really care to know about the shoes – they wanted to know about the guy who wears them.

I am not really sure that the Wolf knew how powerful the shoes were, but once it caught on, all of the gents in the party wanted to have a go. As the night wore on it progressed to a dance off in the shoes with each guy trying to outdo his predecessor and still the ladies came up for a chat.

At the end of the night proving the power of the clown shoes, the Wolf woke up in a bed that wasn’t his own - minus the shoes (that no doubt Gollum had claimed as his precious). It is safe to say that once this power is found out we will have a mass of Ron McD look a likes trooping around the bars. I am almost intrigued enough to purchase a pair of my own.

The Jogging Fox

I am finally home from offshore. Having just come off night shift I am waking up at 4am in the morning with no chance of going back to sleep. This morning it got to about 4.30 before I decided to go for a jog. I left my flat and started off only to be confronted by a fox on the other side of the road about 100m along. He looked at me with an expression of “are you seriously jogging at this time of the morning?” Now I wouldn’t say Wimbledon was a particularly rural area, although there are a number of large parks in the vicinity, but I had seen a couple in the distance late at night.

What happened next amazed my socks off. As I kept jogging the fox crossed the road and came up beside me. It freaked me out a little bit to say the least as I wasn't sure how aggressive these things were considering my only experience with foxes was from Basil Brush. I figured (like all Australian wildlife) that it should of been afraid of me, scampering away and not stalking me as his prey. But no he decided to run along beside me presumably to keep me company.

He probably figured I was a bit of a loon being up so early for some exercise and thought something interesting may happen. Either that or was enjoying the Matt Darey set blaring out of the earphones. Every time I looked down at him he was looking back with a questioning, “What else would I be doing this morning?”

So we jogged on for a rather long way before we hit Wimbledon Common (which has a big park). The distance – 3km (I gmap-pedometered it). Can you believe I had a faithful fox jogging with me for 3km (which probably tells you more about my pace than anything). It was rather impressive and yes, I was making grand plans in my mind for the two of us to jog the London marathon together.

Unfortunately though this is where he decided to depart from me. He caught sight of a grey squirrel (in my defence the squirrel was particularly tasty looking so I took no offence) and bolted. I didn’t see if he actually caught the thing but given the jog he had just been on I wagered he hadn’t.

I now had to turn around and head home solo. I had run a little further than I anticipated (I have only been jogging 5 kms offshore) but the tired muscles were worth it.

I am going to try and get out of bed tomorrow at the same time just in case he is waiting. I might even grab my camera. Failing that (and you all know this is the likely scenario) I shall wait until the weekend and look for him as I stagger home in the wee hours.

UPDATE: I did get up this morning and went for my jog only to be disappointed the critter was nowhere around. I was an hour later so I presume he got sick of waiting around.

Aussies – the butt of English jokes?

Working offshore is a funny occupation that draws all types from around the world. My past experiences have involved working mainly offshore in Australia / NZ and parts of Asia. Working in these places usually has a large proportion of Australian and NZ crews so the whole experience is familiar.

It probably took me a couple of days offshore to realise that being the only Australian I was the butt of all the jokes. Being an engineer offshore you usually cop a fair bit of playful abuse and this was compounded by the fact I was an Aussie.

It was a rather strange experience for me – being the foreigner. I think every other situation I had been in had me in the majority. I had certainly taken liberty to dish out a fair amount of (deserved and undeserved) nationality heckling. I guess that is my playful nature and you would all know how much I can love a good argument. And without trying to sound pigheaded I feel have probably won my fair share of them as well. This was always bound to change at some stage and offshore my ‘uppance’ had come.

The problem with the heckling I was receiving – I had very little (but mainly no) comeback.

The rugby was a favourite of theirs and reaffirms my position that England are the worst winners possible. Is this because they rarely win and never expect too, so when they finally do they don’t know how to react but want to gloat for as long as possible? The last match we had been beaten by them. End of story. This argument will not change until the Wallabies get revenge on the 15th of November at Twickenham. And if revenge is not served – mum I am coming home early.

Cricket is off the cards as we haven’t played them for a while and most of the crew don’t give a shit about the game anyway.

Rugby League? I haven’t actually found anyone living here that watches it.

I was at a loss to find a sport that we were currently better in. If only Webber was driving for Ferrari.

Finally I tried to argue how good our country was to live in – I could see they all agreed but then a quick “why are you not living there” shut me down.
“The reasons I am here are for an adventure and the ease to get to Europe.”
“So Australia is not so great on location?”
“No it is awesome – especially because its so far from England”
“So why are you living in England?”
“To watch the Euro Cup”
(For those that don’t know this is the only way to shut down a Pom this year. England failed to qualify for the European Cup and this is a rather sore point, however do not use it frequently because they will realise that Australia is not part of Europe and could never qualify)

I think living in London, however far from home, I have been sheltered from feeling like the foreigner probably as it is truly an international city. I know I have to eventually succumb to the fact that I am far from home, but I hate losing to the Brits – especially on their home turf.
Note: If anyone does have some valid sledging I can use for the next time I go offshore please post it – I am going to need it.

Offshore Entertainment

I am not really sure how to approach this subject so I will try to just relate the facts and let you make your own judgement. It is rather common knowledge that most of the offshore crew have a rather large hard drive filled with all kinds of 'performing ladies' that they utilise in the privacy of their cabins. I am certainly not passing judgment, I mean who can blame them? Some of the guys are here for 6 months at a time.

Anyway, I am currently on a dive vessel called the Pelican. It is not a new vessel but as per all North Sea boats has been fitted out with all the glam. Internet, phones, and most importantly - satellite TV. We have about 20 channels (mainly British), a couple of Norwegian ones and (for those of you who have travelled over here) Canal+. During the day Canal plays mainly movies with the odd sitcom. Around midnight (until usually 3am), canal takes a slightly different approach to entertainment, by throwing on a couple of 'Adult entertainment' movies.

Being on the night shift (midnight to midday) I have never really gotten the chance to experience this channel - until tonight. I got up a little earlier this evening to clean out the nights work so by about 2am I would be free to go and watch some of the NBA finals which were showing on Five. As I walked down to the main TV area I heard an unusual sound of moans and grunts. Entering the main area I was confronted by you guessed it - Hardcore pornography. It puzzled me a little to see a member of our crew (hopefully off shift) sitting there on the couch glued to the set. He paid no attention whatsoever to myself or several others of the crew walking by.

Now this TV was situated in the most public area - right in the middle of the apex where the galley, locker rooms and accommodation meet. It was a little strange that he had chosen this TV location as there were 2 other more private areas with dimmed lighting that could of been utilised for a little bit more discretion. Unfortunately I couldn't go to the other areas because there is no paging service in case I am required up in dive control. Alas I figured the poor man had been away for a rather long stint and was trying to fill up his spank bank before retiring for the evening, so I left him in peace. Bumping into the cook on my way out our conversation turned to the horny individual and I was a little perplexed to learn that he had only been on the vessel for 4 days. I couldn't believe after 4 days this chap had resorted to a dose of public pornography.

About an hour later I headed back down to see if this man had moved on - only to find that he hadn't. He had however found a blanket to throw over himself while continuing to watch his stick flick - and let me tell you his hands were no where to be found. I was shocked. I made a beeline for the exit etching into my brain which couch to NEVER sit on again. 4 Days people! I am very thankful that I should be off this boat on Saturday sometime as I don't really know how this fella is going to cope when he hits 8 days - that's a spectacle I don't want to see.