You don’t have to have been to an Orbital gig, but if you have, you should understand my logic here…bear with me, I will post an appropriate video to accompany at the end…
Having spent quite a bit of time in the ‘company of strangers’, there will be some aspects of my observations that i will not miss when I get home.
My point is, there is some unwritten etiquette in these environments, for the comfort and benefit of all, that are not always understood or followed…
…and with my massive lugs, I have also got quite attuned to all the noises (it comes from living on a Narrowboat)…
IMPORTANT RULE:
Rucksacks - these bulky items are stored overnight, in a creaky metal cupboard, by the bed and should get packed downstairs or outside in the morning…
So, to give you an idea, mornings with Druids start a bit like this…
Small zip...open…in goes the wash bag..zip…closed…zip…open again, rustle…long zip…close…long zip…open and close, click, snap, bumbag zip open, then close, twice, unknown plastic clip, click…
…around about 8 of them..
Now the peripherals get firmly attached…floppy hat, click, selfie-stick, click, hand sanitiser, click, spare hat, click, spork(don’t ask!), click, click, travel umbrella, click, Go-Pro, click, handy sun-cream on a rope, click and not forgetting the ceremonial shell to be carried to the end, or God will strike you down, clunk, click every trip!
This is now generally followed by a continuous cacophony of loud scratchy high pitched ripping of Velcro straps as flip-flops and ‘not-yet-dry’ washing are then additionally secured.
A grunt is emitted, and the slight sound of a dislocated limb clicks in the darkness, as 27kilos of the ‘Osprey‘s’ weight is lifted and manhandled quietly out of the room.
The door closes…silence at last!
Thankfully, the heavy boots are stored outside the room in racks.
…but wait, ten minutes later…
The door re-opens for the Orbital-style encore, a blinding 3000 lumen strobe light flashes around the room, silhouetting the Druid in full regalia, now, full metal jacket, loaded rucksack, complete with poncho, bandana and aviator shades with more gear strapped to them than an SAS soldier on a dawn raid.
We now have the added thump of the newly fitted ‘goretex’ clodhoppers, clomping back into the room…
I am already alert to what the problem is, as Iv witnessed it so many times now…
The ghostly figure lurches back in and clomps, nervously, back over to the creaky, corner cupboard and opens it for the final time.
At the back, stood in the corner, the bloody forgotten sticks are illuminated…
…having been far too obsessed with starting Strava, they realised after they had gone about half a mile down the Camino without them…FFS!
Now reunited, and with a couple more clicks, a slide, extend one a bit, a click again to re-adjust, then a clatter as the other one drops accidentally on the floor, it stoops awkwardly, now wedged in the small space between the bed and the cupboard, bends down, accidentally lets out a heavily laden fart, from last nights squid dinner, before re-adjusting a strap, clipping on another water bottle and banging the door firmly closed behind it, free to happily, clippity-cloppity off, totally oblivious, towards Santiago.
Buen Camino!
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