Travelling up to Leicester on a Friday, wasn’t as straightforward as it should have been, we had to go via Cheltenham so that I could hand in my last workbook, for the degree show, also the trains were delayed and we missed our connection in Brum, the weather ahh yes glorious sunshine and hot…(Lokey gets grumpy on overcrowded cattle wagons, when it’s a beautiful hot, sunny day – ideal painting conditions).
So we got to Leicester an hour or so later than we had wanted, checked into the hotel, then headed to Culture Quarter, to check out what had been painted in the lead-up to the main event. What images I did take were on film (I haven’t sent them away for developing yet), after having a walk around, and catching up with a few people who still painting in the failing light, we ended up in The Exchange (lovely bar and they serve tea and cake too), now the choice’s of Cider for a Bristolian were limited, they had some bottled stuff that was apple or strawberry, or the only cider on tap… ‘Cloudy with a chance of shit-faced – a proper clear, flat cider that only West Country folk would have the balls to drink, now remember we were all bottle fed and weaned on ‘Traditional Thatcher’s’.
As writer’s do, there was the usual ‘pass’ the black book (It’s a writer thing, if you’re all together with peeps from out of town, you generally sign, tag or draw in each other’s black books, it’s a way of commemorating the event). It was good to catch up with old friends and new, I met and spoke to some interesting people, from all walks of life,
some people were meeting their idols for the first time, others were old friends and crew members, who may as well be family as they’ve known each other since childhood, it was like any other night down the pub, convo’s from work, art through to family life… normal people shit, it’s wasn’t like one of these lads nights out, where get’s sloshed in the first hour, cause havoc in the town, the odd fight, and someone being nicked, it was like being in one of, those, 18th century Gentlemen’s Club’s (where no females were allowed) very civilised and somewhat posh, though we were all outside, due to it being rather humid!
This night ended a little later than planned, and the hotel, the humidity, when we walked through the fire door, towards our room, was like stepping off of a plane in Adelaide in a 100+ temp… Humidity and dehydration mean one thing, a mother f8cker of a hangover for some people! (I don’t drink by the way!)
Those that were drinking ‘Cloudy with a chance of shit-faced’, didn’t touch it on Saturday night…