I Wasn't There - Cashing Out

BBC Radio 4's Saturday Live used to have a slot titled ‘I was There’ featuring interviews with people who were at auspicious events, had brushes with royalty and the like. My contribution to such a series would be more likely to reflect a number of notable occasions I missed:

In 1985 the touring production of 'Pump Boys and Dinettes' came to The Theatre Royal, Brighton. The cast included Paul Jones (no relation, but a source of constant confusion) Kiki Dee, Brian Protheroe, Carlene Carter and Gary Holton, an old friend of mine from London.

He was better known as the lead singer with The Heavy Metal Kids...

or Wayne in Auf Wiedersehen Pet! depending on your cultural references.

Gary had called to say he was in Brighton and that he would leave a ticket for me at the box office. After the show I went for a chat with him and expected that we would indulge in our usual pastime which involved finding a sleazy pub, drinking beer and talking rubbish until closing time.

But it turned out that one of the cast's parents had come to see the show and were taking the everyone out to a local oyster bar for supper and Gary suggested I join them. I do not really like eating with large gatherings, let alone with a herd of performers, as they have a tendency to get up their own fundaments. So I said 'thanks, but no thanks'. Gary tried to persuade me and called across to Carlene confirming that "It's OK if Richard joins us, isn't it?" to which she answered very charmingly in the affirmative.

But I stuck to my guns, narrowly avoiding an evening of puffed up luvvies and, unknown to me until a country music loving friend of mine pointed it out, supper with Carlene's mum June Carter, and June's husband, Johnny Cash.

Bum!

I Wasn't There - Days of Wonder

BBC Radio 4's Saturday Live used to have a slot titled ‘I was There’ featuring interviews with people who were at auspicious events, failed to recognise celebrities, had brushes with royalty and the like. My contribution to such a series would be more likely to reflect a number of notable occasions I missed:

In the 70s I was half the road crew of a rock band touring UK clubs and colleges promoting their first album 'High Street'. The band played a rocky-boogie style, in the Humble Pie vein and the audiences were mainly young men with long hair, trench coats and a propensity for head-banging.

Very macho, very geezer, very 70s

A 'novelty' single [Get Outa Me 'Ouse] strayed into the charts and led to a spate of TV appearances squeezed into a busy touring schedule. After one such recording in Birmingham (which may have been Lift Off with Ayesha Brough or some show involving the word 'Cue' with Mike Mansfield) we went to the hotel and retired to the bar for a beer or several. Our keyboard player, Kenny, doodled around on a baby grand piano in the corner of the bar to the general enjoyment of our fellow guests and a bit of a sing-song ensued. It looked like they were settling in for a session, so around 11pm, unable to keep eyelids apart, I sloped off for an early night. 

Kenny Daughters, one time truck designer and ivory tickler

At breakfast next morning amid the general hubbub of conversation I heard several references to a brilliant night, some great music and a wonderful performance. Bloody hell! I thought, these people must be really hard up for live music. After all, much as I liked the band and enjoyed their music, only their most ardent head-banging fans would pile such praise on the a few bar tunes from our keyboard player. It seems I was wrong.

It turns out that about half an hour after I had left the bar, the assembled multitude had been treated to an impromptu session on the bar's piano by another hotel guest, also in town for a TV show, Stevie Wonder.

1975? somewhere between top right and bottom left, I guess

Of course he wasn't the God-like legend he is today, just your ordinary run-of-the-mill international million-selling superstar who seldom played live - bugger!.

Keep an eye open for more tales of stuff wot I missed...