Weekender 2004: Review
The 12th 6Ts Weekender

Review by Karen Bridges

 

FRIDAY
Grab yourself a nice glass of wine, pint of lager or a plain old cup of tea - sit back, relax and see Cleethorpes through the eye of a Soulgirl.

Friday morning arrived with a little less anticipation and excitement- perhaps because this was my fifth year coupled with the fact that I have really only just gotten over Prestatyn. Disgusting journey on the stop-start M1 finally arriving around 7pm.

The Impreza growled to a stop outside the reception to grab our passes. Attached to my wrist with expert precision by Ady I was ready. Jo Wallace was in the reception again - that was spooky as it was exactly the same last year!

F6 was our home for the weekend - a somewhat dingy abode but with enough headspace for our weary noggins throughout the weekend. That included noggins of non-residents too who frequented our trashy trailer.

Residents were, in order of appearance, Steve and Carole Csordas, Dave 'Stump Cock' Abbott, Lindsay O'Hara and Me of course. Following arrival pleasantries and a few Smirnoff Ice's Lindsay and I made our way to the warm-up event - the Cleethorpes Winter Gardens.

It was a Soul Friend's (Dave) 50'th Birthday - lovely to see him and in fact, there was a hefty contingent from the 6t's weekender present too including the wonderful dancer Karl, and my ickle (well, now he is 20 he is not so ickle) Richard (Winner of the Prestatyn Dance Competition).

Playing mainly Oldies the floor became quite crowded and there was a foggy haze as the talc was kicked into the still, hot, airless room. Then, low and behold, who walked in? The Diplomats. What a fantastic surprise for Dave. They willingly accommodated the photo-hungry guests and pecked at the women's cheeks like long lost friends; saving the hand-shakes for the men.

I think we left at around midnight to head back to the Beachcomber. A quick flick of the wrist satisfied the doormen that we should be allowed entry and off we headed into the blackened, stiflingly humid main room.

Being fairly pissed already I'm surprised I managed to find the Southern Soul Movement but like a homing beacon, there they were, opposite the record bar area.

Lindsay and I also spent a good half an hour up on the trusty balcony purveying the heaving masses below. We had only nipped upstairs to peek at the 60's room but it had not yet begun at that time. So, we entered the balcony at the doorman's discretion. I thought, that's odd, why have a doorman? Well, the Diplomats were in there weren't they! A second chance meeting in the same night - not many of those to the pound are there. We exchanged pleasantries, spoke briefly about their records that are dusted and aired during soul nights here in the UK and enjoyed watching the dancers below (Dave Abbott, did you see me wave to you?).

I wanted to be back in the crowd - a photograph and a kiss later, I was making my way back down the stairs and into the sweaty ensemble of dancers.

I was looking so forward to the Dance Competition - I thought yeah! I'm gonna enter this year, just for prosperity and memories you understand. Plus, if you get through to the final 6 there is at least room to enjoy the dancing as the floor is quite empty ha ha. Alas, it wasn't to be. It's a long story but I got held up in the ladies loo with some friends! Upon my return, they were already down to the last 6 boo hoo. Next year perhaps?

Anyhoo, Pat Brady and Butch's sets followed and that transposed my misery and gloom to happiness once again. I was waning by this point. I had been up since 6am, driven for 7 hours up that bloody stop-start M1and was absolutely bolloxed but I knew I wanted to catch Flynnsters set up in the 60's room. Walking through the door felt like being whapped in the face by an overheated pillow - I felt suffocated immediately and my eyebrows started to bead with sweat instantaneously. I couldn't stand it! It was like being stuck somewhere in the middle of the African Plains without even a breeze and no mirage in sight. I need a watering hole at least. The Smirnoff Ice's had taken their toll, my water table was well below the RDA and I could feel myself wilting. I stood there and listened to the sweet black discs, not even mustering enough strength to wobble in time let alone dance.

It was enough to satiate me for the first night and Lindsay and I made our way back to the trashy trailer like the trailer trash we are. Lindsay bagseyed the couch, simply because she could not find her bed under all her shit. Me being more organised slumped down to slumber and drifted off like a baby.

SATURDAY
Raucous laughter awoke me around 8am. And they hadn't even been to bed yet! We had trailer guests - Molly, Tracy, Dick and Jase including the residents Dave, Steve, Carole and Lindsay. We sat gaily smoking, talking, laughing and joking. Salut we all shouted as another eggcup of Limonchello went down the hatch. Csordas kindly played some tunes on his portable deck including Greg Perry - Head Over Heels and Abbott proudly paraded his new purchase - The Midnighters.

It was probably around 2pm when we traipsed into the main room again. The crowd was fairly sparse at this point but all good news for the avid dancers - more room on the floor *titter*. A few Smirnoff Ice's and I limbered up to take to the floor. Heikki excited me with his bi-directional spins! I enquired as to where he slipped those in since the last time I met him. His retort was that he had his special spin shoes on - nice one! I particularly love the Saturday afternoon because the foreign DJ's show us what they listen to in their homelands and Gerhard had shaved off his beard!

Back to the van for some recuperative shut eye in expectancy of the coming evenings jollies. I woke up stiff as a board as I had slept under an open window. My voice had climbed out of that window I'm sure because I opened my gob and nothing came out! Oh joy my van-mates whispered under their breath ha ha.

The main room was full again upon our return. We found our space in front of the record bar again and Steve's Southern Soul Movement plaque found its way above our heads, proudly hanging for all to see. The shoulder carry manoeuvre, to ensure its positioning, was a little hairy to say the least but there were no casualties thankfully.

Without room to swing a cat the floor bobbed up and down, side to side with mutual respect for dancing neighbours. My ankle was swelling nicely again following my ridiculous spraining accident some 4-5 weeks ago. It was disabling but I danced through the pain - like you do. It was flat shoes for me for the rest of the weekend after Friday night's marathon.

Ady Croasdell took to the stage - we knew what was coming and we were well up for it. We had been told that The Diplomats had been rehearsing their harmonies and we wanted to hear them. They exploded onto the stage dressed in black Bowlers and capes, white gloves and white dickie bow ties. It was hot - they had to loosen their ties and remove their hats.

They stomped through their recorded hits with a diversity that pleased the crowd. Following that, they left the stage to return as the Skull Snaps. We were hit with their 70's stuff. Some of the tracks seemed to go on forever and the crowd was in danger of losing interest. Saved by encores they picked the crowd back up and shook them about. Male group sounds are definitely my choice, save instrumentals, and I was quietly pleased with this performance.

Carole Csordas, Lindsay and I had made a pact before leaving the trailer - 4 am at least we chanted before placing our hands on top of each others. Did we renegade on this pact? Yep - we managed 'til 3am though and knew it was time for a cuppa back at the van having caught Mick Smith's spot before our departure. Where was the Charades then Mick?

SUNDAY
The 8 am wake-up call came again. Different trailer guests this time round! It was the lovely Gianluca and his Wife Chantelle, Molly and Tracy. I shuffled out of my bed wrapped in the provided tartan blankets like some Geisha girl - my eyes were even Japanese looking as I peered through squinted slits.

Sunday had arrived - it had crept up far too soon for my liking. Each year the weekend appears to get shorter and shorter. Anyway, Sunday afternoons are my absolute favourite. More than lissom, I was ready to sweat - and I did. I danced for hours spinning round the floor like a warped record (probably a good idea that I didn't enter the competition were the thoughts of the onlookers). My trusty Spencer's were always a swish ahead of my feet as were the droplets of salty perspiration that were flung from my head in unadulterated abandonment as I strutted to the sets of Kenny, Jody, Lynn, Yan and Jo. The Soul Mastermind interrupted Jo Wallace's sport which I thought was a little rude actually. Perhaps something to think of for the future? I made a satisfactory purchase of the Right Combination Soul CD in support of our up and coming Rimini Weekender in July. A tasty compilation of 28 Tomato Soul tracks served by the best looking guy in Italy - thank you very much.

Naughty Jo Wallace did not play me Freddy Houston but that was a forgivable oversight because Her set was great anyway even with that omission.

So we stood chatting for a good half hour after the final spin - The Dells - Jo's signature finishing tune and got hustled out by the bouncers.

A quick chat on the way back to the van with some peeps I didn't know - showed them my CD and I was asked if I was purely Northern or did I like Modern. I said really it's Northern for me, but that I am warming to some of the more modern tunes. I proudly announced that I did in fact have Marcia Himes as my phone ringtone - I proceeded to play the wav file via my phone and as I skipped away I heard him run into his caravan shouting 'Marcia Himes - You Gotta Let Go'. I think he liked it!

A quick visit to the accommodation where the Irish contingent were staying - Paul made us feel welcome and I could have sat there all afternoon listening to their beautiful Irish accents but there was something more pressing to attend to. Hang on a minute? Was it Saturday we visited the Irish van Lindsay? Or was it Sunday?? Who cares, we visited anyway and that is the important ingredient of this recipe.

Football, I know - I wasn't even going to bother mentioning it as I am not a footy fan but come on - we lead for 90 bloody minutes only to be taken 2-1 in the final 2 minutes of extra time. That was just taking the piss really wasn't it! A sobriety encompassed our van following the England defeat to the French. This was carried over, albeit briefly, to the main room but as the music started bashing our souls the defeat was a mere memory in the filing cabinets of history as far as I was concerned.

I was knackered to put it bluntly. Because I was driving home the next morning I didn't want to get pissed up yet again so I was presented with a very large bottle of water that looked just like a bottle of vodka! As I glugged away to raise my internal water-table I could see glances of disbelief - could she REEAAAALLLY be drinking vodka like a tosser? It was WATER ok!!

From behind me, in the now cleared record bar area, a hand appeared and grabbed mine. I was pulled through the crowd by a cheery faced girl. Hi she said, I'm Janine and this is Chalky and Mike Hughes. I knew Mike because I annoy him a lot on his site, www.soul-source.net but to date, I had not met the infamous Janine nor Chalky so that was nice. She proceeded to place glowing inanimate objects into her mouth and tease Dave Abbott with them for the rest of the evening and with Dave, sporting his newly adhered tattoo with matching jewels, it was a sight for sore eyes indeed.

Now, I must say, having read the editorial by Ady in the Cleethorpes Brochure (brochure sounds nice don't you think?) it appears that Ady is in the midst of arranging a Southern weekend event. Thank fuck for that! I wonder where it is. If anyone knows or has heard rumours, please whisper it to me).

So, that's all from me. ...I need to slow down a peg or two to get ready for the 3rd Rimini Soul Weekender in Italy. There is no rest for the wicked is there. I just wish my purse would expand as quickly as my waistline seems to be growing so that I could enjoy the soulier things of life more often. I need to know what diet Ady has been on coz doesn't he look good these days!

Yours in soul,
Karen x

Karen's 2004 weekender photo's are >>> HERE <<<