Here’s a story from my book which will never get written.
I turn up to a rural festival gig in a huge barn somewhere in Wales, UK.
I am lit up like a Xmas tree, and have been for days.
The weather is horrible, and the wind is wildly whipping the corrugated iron single entrance door so hard it would break your arm. We trawl through 3” of mud with all the gear, and a brave soul holds the door.
Fuck me, this place is weird. There’s little fireplaces in the walls all around, it’s straw on the earth floor, and the PA is huge. I then notice a long row of trestle tables set up. Well, they had every kind of hash cookie known to man, hash-fudge, hot-knives, home-brew beer with hash - you name it. But at the end was a table with two huge urns with lights on them. Oh shit - Mushroom Tea!! 50p a cup. Right, I’ll have 3 cups please. 3? It’s a bit strong mate. Don’t worry, just give me 3 buddy. I’d done 250 that morning - I ain’t gonna feel it right?
Next minute I’m onstage. No soundcheck, and the band are counting off. OK, in we go.
1st number, huge solo at the end. I realise the sound guy has put loads of echo on the guitar. It was ridiculous.
I stop the gig, and get the guy to come to the stage. I’ve got a Wem Copycat and an Echoplex, can you fucking see them? Take the echo off.
We start the second number. Bags of echo. Fucking hell. I picked up the amp’s mic and stand, and launched them through the air towards the desk, then turned my amp up to almost full. I can see people fussing around me, but that was when that mushroom tea kicked-in. Oh fucking hell. People had no faces. The barn turned into some medieval war movie setting, and I think I pissed myself a bit too.
So we get through the gig, and I disappear into the back. Here, says someone. You can sit in the back barn if you like - there’s a heater.
So in I go. It’s very dark, but there’s a jet-type space-heater going (the only light), and one armchair. Perfect. So I set out to roll a decent spliff, and just come down a bit. It’s all a bit much, and was getting a bit demonic out there. Thank god I’m in here. So, I’m sitting there, smoking away, and I start to take note of my surroundings. There’s overalls and coats hung up all around me. Oh but fucking holy Christ they’ve got what look like faces. The whole fucking barn is waving around and breathing in and out like it’s alive. Oh god!
Those faces are getting closer I’m sure. I know I was alone. What the fuck is happening?
That jet-heater is now sounding like a rocket taking off, and I swear it’s going to explode.
The coats and faces are close now. That’s it, they’re gonna get me. I’ve seen Dr.Who. I know what can happen.
I huddle into a ball on the chair, and peek out between my fingers. Jesus! One face at waist height detaches itself from the gloom, and steadily gets nearer. Oh no, it’s got fucking horns on it. Looking straight at me. That’s it. This is the Devil. I am going to die!
All I could do was scream. The door opens, and someone walks in, and says - Are you ok? Why are you sitting in the dark? Then the light goes on above me.
Those shapes and faces were just overalls with hard-hats on the pegs, some painted with joke eyes, and I realise that for 30 minutes - I’d been sharing the room with an actual Goat!
The farmer had brought him in out the bad weather.
Can’t remember much else, except I know me and the goat got wrecked on joints, and I woke up in my bed 20 miles away in the morning - without the goat!
