Dover Castle
The most eagerly anticipated leg of the INXS Europe '90 tour were
the two shows in Paris. At last, Paris. Imagine that. Even the sound
of the phrase, "the two shows in Paris", sparkled and
shimmered. I'd never been to Paris before and I was really, really
excited about it. All those years of sketchy high school French
lessons would finally make sense. I knew I would love the place.
Sure, I
was all geared up for the view from Eiffel's Tower and a stroll
by Arc's Triumph, but what I was really looking forward to was
losing myself in the streets of Montmatre, The Left Bank and that
sort of thing. The idea of actually being in the place where so
much significant art was made, was intoxicating. And who knows,
perhaps by some kind of cerebral and or spiritual osmosis, I too
would be inspired to greatness. Yes, I was pretty worked up about
it.
Although
INXS and most of the touring party were flying, Absent Friends
were traveling over by ferry from Dover. It was times like that
when we really felt like the humble support band. In fact we'd
felt as though we 'd been chasing the train for the last week
of concerts in England and Scotland, but Paris would be our reward.
Space was at a premium in the Beaufort that night and I had to
self-consciously share a room with Sean and Wendy. I kept waking
up through the night thinking I'd slept in and missed the boat,
and then ironically I did sleep in and woke up with a start to
realize it was 7.30am! I had missed the ferry! I had missed the
godamn ferry! I barrelled downstairs and raced around in blind
panic until I spotted Sean and Wendy casually having breakfast.
They said I should calm down and have some breakfast because the
7.00am ferry had been cancelled. Cancelled!
Malcolm, our tour manager, added that it would be the 1.00pm ferry
we would be aiming for now, as the sea was angrier than ever.
I decided
to take a walk up to Dover Castle and lost my self to the ghosts
of the past for a few hours. It had been a great experience. Certainly
got me thinking . It was 11.30 a.m. by the time I 'd made my way
down from the White Cliffs ...in a leisurely fashion.
I could
just make out our entourage way off in the distance. I thought
it odd that the whole band should be standing around the van.
One of them was standing apart from the rest madly waving his
arms and gesticulating. Yes that would be John, John Mackay .Was
he doing one of his old Monty Python routines? No. He was yelling
something and his distant voice sounded
well
angry...really,
really angry.
A few thin words were all I caught on the faint breeze but it
was enough to make my stomach knot and my knees turn to jelly,
"
where the *#%#have you been..
a ferry left
..11am...could've
been on it! .
if it wasn't for you!
.Paris!
now
its all off
.no shows in Paris
your fault!
"