I awake to find The Geordie watching his favourite programme in the lounge (America's Best Dance Crew) and muttering comments to himself,
"Oh that is so East Coast....I wonder how Diversity would fare?"
The Blonde and I sent The Geordie to the cafe on the corner for much-needed English breakfast items, this weekend we discovered how amazing it is to stick a couple of hash browns on the sandwiches too. We ate breakfast and drank tea, I had the audacity to flick through the TV channels and left it on Saturday Kitchen. The Geordie took a swig of tea from his Zac Efron High School Musical Mug and stated,
"We're not watching this. Too gay." He promptly switched it back to America's Best Dance Crew and asked,
"Want to split a can of Red Stripe?"
We said no, of course not. This became the catch-phrase of the weekend as he'd previously told me straight-faced how both him and the also funemployed Blonde had "split a can of Tennent's" before they went to run errands at the Post Office. It's definitely a good thing that he's headed back to work as of Monday.
The Blonde and I decided to take full advantage of the sunny Edinburgh day and got ready to head out of the door with our cameras.
The Geordie: "Camera Club is too gay for me. Bye, gaylord gang."
We stroll up the hill from Stockbridge to Edinburgh castle, along the way I bitch a bit as I am starting to perspire the cocktails from the night before, and we encounter unbelievable masses of tourists. The Blonde restrains herself from assaulting one of them. We take some lovely shots of the city along the way, despite The Blonde's almost-fell-over moments which totalled around six. We're both stood under a building at one point, taking a shot of a golden eagle sculpture on the side of the wall and as she's playing with her focus and angle, I announce,
"I LOVE camera club." The Blonde almost falls over again.
We mill around at the top of the hill by the castle entrance, and stop to get a drink. I get overexcited about the Jelly Belly jellybean stand and promptly spend four hangover-induced pounds on sweets. I have a weakness for the cinnamon ones. However, learn from my mistakes. One, jalapeno flavoured ones are not pleasant. Two, they're even worse if you happen to eat one as you're drinking Diet Coke.
After a nice stroll back down the Royal Mile to Holyrood and the stunning Scottish Parliament building, we fit in a Mexican snack at a cute diner then head back to the flat to get ready for Hot Chip.
HMV Picture House is a good little venue, just like the Forum in Kentish Town. After a drink in a seriously dodgy pub beforehand, we go and bag ourselves a table at the bar before Casio Kids come on. This is where The Geordie goes to the bar and The Blonde laments the fact she has to watch Alphabeat there with him next month. I asked her to keep her voice down.
I knew of some of Casio Kids stuff and really liked it, so I was expecting them to be ok but not as good as they actually were. Lovely Scandi electro beats with ethereal choruses and harmonies and interchangeable musicians and singing. Lovely.
The Blonde had gone to the loo at one point and The Geordie was holding both their pints. Suddenly he looks down at the floor as it felt like something had hit his leg. I bent down to pick it up and it became clear that this was not some arsey Scot who'd chucked their keys at Steve because of the amount of spraywax in his hair, but in fact a beautiful chunky Prada bracelet that had clearly fallen off someone.
We looked about and saw a very coolly dressed couple, I asked the girl if it was hers. The delight and relief on her face was so worth giving it back. She gushed her thanks and we of course said no worries, glad to give it back to you. Nice to get involved in some good gig karma.
Five minutes later, she came over to us with drinks for us all and smiled again. How kind! She did disappear at one point backstage and we all hoped that she was some sort of A&R bigshot and we'd get invited backstage to meet the bands. We didn't.
Despite the good gig karma, there was a distinctly weird vibe at the concert. For a start, lots of horrible teenagers with no concept of personal gig space. It was telling that none of them had beers in their hands. We drank ours smugly behind them and stopped The Blonde kicking off with them. At one point I made my way to the ladies', only to encounter in there a large gaggle of really pissed up Glaswegian girls. One said something to me that I didn't understand, then shouted "Only jokin'!!" and flung herself at me, planting a big smacker on my cheek. The smell of cheap, vanilla lipgloss that you use when you're fifteen filled my nostrils and I smiled politely and left her presence as quick as possible. Eurgh. When I asked The Blonde to help me wipe the goo off my cheek, she visibly hesitated.
So, Hot Chip. Sheer brilliance. I've seen them once before and you can't help but be moved by the deep, layered electro beats and gorgeous vocals. The crowd was absolutely loving them. Highlights for me were One Pure Thought and Over and Over. Makes you want to rave while also being a singalong. Genius.
During the set, I took myself off to smoke outside and do a bar run. I weaved my way through the packed crowd, carrying the empty stacked plastic pint pots from my previous drinks. The top cup had about half a pint left. Suddenly, some idiothole bloke who thought he was hilarious shouted "Ah thanks very much!" and slammed his empty plastic cup into my drink. I just looked at him, shocked, then from nowhere, found myself shouting,
"I was still drinking THAT!!"
As I uttered it, I flung the stack of plastic cups and the remaining beer at him. It was his turn to look shocked. In slow-motion it dawned on me that I was at a gig in Edinburgh. There was a high possibility that the man was Glaswegian. So I ran.
Luckily I didn't encounter him again during the gig, and made it out in one piece. We went home via the rough-stagdo-men-shouting "weeeeuuurrrrrrgh" Grassmarket for post-gig food, and made our way home so that The Blonde and The Geordie could bicker about what we watched on the TV.
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