Weekender 2003: Review
The 11th 6Ts Weekender

Review by Alsion

 

Things couldn't have started worse as on the Friday morning the sole of my dancing shoes fell off whilst walking Daisy, luckily for me my local cobbler was sympathetic and agreed to have them ready for 5pm so I could pick them up on my way. The car was packed with all my camping gear and by 6.15pm I was heading down the M18 to paradise.

Once in Cleethorpes I went straight to the camp site next door to the venue to get settled down, this is when things started to go badly wrong. Last year they charged me £60 to pitch a tent for 3 nights, 2 weeks ago I had a voucher through the post from the same campsite offering 3 nights for the price of 2 so I decided to take advantage, that was until reception informed me that as of last week they had decided that they no longer allowed tents on the site and were only honouring existing bookings. I showed the receptionist my invite but they weren't budging, the air turned blue but all I came out with was a map directing me to another campsite 4 miles away.

I decided to ditch the camping idea, head for the venue and try to find a spare place in someone's caravan, failing that I'd have to find a B and B.

First person I bumped into at the venue was 'Backdoor' Kenny who, once he heard of my difficulties, immediately offered me a place in his chalet. Those of you who know Kenny will understand this and those of you who don't will just have to trust me, despite the fact that he's a good lad who'd do anything to help anyone, he's not the kind of bloke you'd choose to share a chalet with for a weekender. Wasn't sure what to do but rather than offend Kenny I decided I'd make the best of it, bunged Ady some money for the rent, dumped my belongings in the chalet and hit the venue for a relaxing pint of Tetleys and a fag. Roger Banks was the first DJ on, I was one of the first people in so had a scan of the room to see where to sit, didn't bother to wear my contact lenses so I didn't recognise the 2 people waving at me until I got closer.

It Was Brummie Mick and Jennifer Nicebum who I know from the 100 club so I parked myself down. The beer at Cleethorpes is always nice and it wasn't long before I had a stupid grin on my face and was spraffing a load of tripe to anyone stupid enough to listen.

Other than the dancing competition the night was pretty much uneventful, oldies early on and the tunes got harder towards the end, had a good circulate as virtually everyone I know on the soul scene was there with a few not who I'd have liked to have been just to enjoy the experience with me.

The night was wound up by our own Dave Rimmer at 6am so it was off to the caff for a cup of coffee then back to the chalet. One minute Kenny was in the caff and the next he'd vanished along with our solitary key, after about an hours searching I couldn't find him anywhere so forced my way in burglar style. 5 minutes later Kenny walks in, I asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee and a female voice answered yes, he'd picked up another homeless straggler. After a quick drink Kenny says "I'm off to Rotherham now, anybody wanna come"? As I'd arrived the previous day from Rotherham I decided that at that moment I wasn't feeling homesick enough to return so went to bed slightly unnerved by the presence of our new guest.

Read the paper for a bit, failed to get any sleep so had a quick shower and went in for the afternoon sesh. Can't remember anything other than foreign DJ's playing good tunes, bumping into Silke and Michael from Germany and nearly fainting at the sight of Bev Roberts (AKA God) in a dress.

Left the do a bit early, failed to sleep again, had another shower and went to visit Bev and Steve's 5 star luxury caravan, very impressive it was too. Jane and Tony Smith were there, as was Dave O'Niel and Ben, Steve was sat out on the balcony pissed, amusing us with his inoffensive hilarious comments to anyone passing, ranging from "alright cocker," at the top of his voice to an elderly man, then a lecture on not riding your bike too fast and performing the correct hand signals to two young children.

Left there at 8pm for the nighter, just as I was about to enter I heard a voice from a passing car window shout "Mark, I lied to you." It was Robbo, we'd been out the previous week and he'd said he wasn't coming. Many more people seemed to be arriving as the night went on who weren't in on Friday, good tunes again and everyone seemed to be looking forward to the 2 live acts, Dean Parrish and Maxine Brown. Just before the acts hit the stage I had a quick rummage in the record bar and surfaced with 2 tunes I'd been hunting for a while, the Wooden Nickels Nobody But You on Omen and the Para-mounts Come Go With Me on Ole, what a result.Dean Parrish was the first act on and his voice was brilliant, if anything a shade too strong, but he really seemed to be enjoying himself as he belted out his well known classics, he even made one up for us called Northern Soul Survivors, at first I thought it was a little cheesy but in retrospect it was a really nice touch.

Maxine was up next and what can you say, she looked as good as her voice sounded, a true legend. She did all the songs we expected plus a couple of ballads which I particularly enjoyed, a duet with Tommy Hunt followed, half way through this I had to go for a sit down, can't think why, so I missed the end.

Had a bit of a rest then was disturbed by my friend Angus Oldfield from Barnsley, he asked if I'd seen anything of Kenny as he'd been AWOL all day and Ady wanted him, apparently he's been shouting him from outside the chalet but to no response. I told him to just go in as I'd left the chalet unlocked but apparently now it was locked. We all trooped off to the chalet, shouted Kenny and again nothing, broke in again to find Kenny fast asleep in bed snoring.

Back in the venue the rest of the nighter flew by, tops spots from Keith Money, Butch and Bob Hinsley and many laughs as Nina Dopson had to leave the dancefloor due to a man opposite her who was foaming at the mouth quite spectacularly. Back in the chalet (forced entry again) managed 10 minutes sleep then bull in a china shop, Kenny got up refreshed and full of the joys of spring. Once he was up so was I, his car had a flat tyre so I had to fix it while he sorted out his records for his 12am DJ spot. The Sunday afternoon session flew by, had a go at the quiz but couldn't keep up with Dave Rimmer and Roger Banks, either they delivered the questions too quickly or my brain was functioning too slowly.

As the session drew to a close the atmosphere was already building, no one seemed to want to leave so it was back to the chalet for a party, for me this was probably the best part of the weekend as visitors who I didn't know, but somebody present did, came and went in a never ending stream. Kenny decided he'd had enough so headed home with a grin on his face and I felt guilty, I wouldn't have chosen to stay with him but I'm glad I did as I've a volume of funny incidents to reflect on and make me chuckle in the future, none of which would have happened if I'd stayed on my own in the tent. Not 5 minutes after he'd left Ady called round to see if he'd DJ the first hour of the evening session.

Back inside again and the place was rammed, the fancy dress costumes and ritual DJ humiliation amused us as the DJ's treat us to a wealth of Northern Soul standards. I always get a bit emotional on Sunday nights and at one point felt like going back to the chalet but my mates weren't having any of it, Stimulating Jane Smith, Bev (AKA God) Roberts and Jennifer Nicebum never let me out of their sight and even followed me to the loo so I couldn't sneak off. I had half an hour's chat with Robbo but nearly ended up in hospital as I'd sat on his glass and catapulted myself headfirst backwards into a plate glass window.

I remember Ady playing my recent Wooden Nickels acquisition and really enjoyed hearing Walter Jackson's It's An Uphill Climb To The Bottom. 2.30 arrived far too quickly so it was back to the chalet for another party, well cup of coffee and a fag actually, the weekend had taken it's toll.

Happy Times Mark.

PS: The laughs continued on Monday morning, as I tidied up the debris I found that Kenny had left behind a pile of albums, a full box of records, several items of clothing and some parts off his car, all are now in my garage so get yourself to the 100 Club Martyn as I'm gonna need some help. Be nice if we could all make it next year.

APPENDIX
The Saturday morning after Cleethorpes saw me arguing with a neighbour in the street wearing only a dressing gown and slippers. I'd been at work the previous night only to be woken up at 7.30 am by his son trying out his new drum kit, as a night worker himself he should know better. Finally got back to bed at 10.30 am. 11am someone's at the door, it's Kenny calling for his albums, records, clothing and bits of car, Jesus.