With a moo moo here and a quack quack there

Of all the useful conversations I have in a day, the final one of the day was not one of them, but it was however the most amusing. As Himself and I fell asleep last night we started on the pet list that we wish to expand on. It always starts with the want for a dog - mine usually goes down the bearded collie route called 'Spider', whilst Himself sways towards an Alsation or Husky called 'Wolf' (or Greywind, but that just sounds like a title for flatulent geriatrics). Last night we ventured into the territory of farm animals and amused ourselves for a good hour coming up with names for each notion. Now, we laid there pretty darn chuffed with ourselves, so I figured I should share them...

Cows
Cow-aline
Cow-rol
Simon Cow (yes, we went there)

Ducks
Duck Berry
Duck Cherry

Chickens
Lady Cluck
Hen-rietta

Goats
Billy 

Sheep
Chop
Mint Sauce 
Baar-bara  

...and so the list continues. Anyhoo, I guess the point of this entry is to say 'Thank god we arn't having children!'

It may seem crazy, but it all went down that way

I have to open this entry with the fact that my best friend, when finding out this information, responded with ‘nice try, but I don’t believe you’, this was further supported with her telling her boyfriend that she was convinced I was on drugs. So if that doesn’t set the tone for this entry I have no idea what does.

So, the Saturday before last began like any other. Himself and I awoke, had breakfast and spent the day in the garden topping up the tans (well, I was tanning, he was lobster transforming). The Creepshow had an extra gig lined up in Camden (yes, I had travelled the length of the UK only 5 days previous to see them) and so we had planned to head up to London late afternoon to partake once more. About 3pm, we started to get changed in preparation for said gig. About fifteen post shower minutes later and Himself gets a text from an unknown number…this unknown number just so happened to belong to Sean ‘Sickboy’ (the double-bass player) from non-other than The Creepshow, and like with all unknown numbers belonging to major Canadian musicians - this unknown number asked if the band could stay at mine after the gig.

Of course…of course; my favourite band, who I was utterly ecstatic about just seeing live – let alone meeting the week before, are now asking to crash at my house – What part of that would possibly seem surreal?

Now doing what any rather untidy home owner would do (with only 45 minutes to tidy her house in preparation of famous people arriving), I then spent the next seven minutes bouncing up and down (yes – I have learnt over the past month, I am a most definite ‘bouncer’) laughing like a loon. Then the brain kicked in saying you now only have 38 minutes to tidy up, to which the rest of my body decided that instead of tidying I should spend the time phoning people to tell them how surreal my Saturday was. And to think people don’t think that I’m logical? With about 20 minutes remaining, I finally focus and deploy Himself to retrieve extra bedding from the bestie, whilst I wrestled with the spare bed. Turns out when excited everything takes twice as long to do, and yet you get it done in half the time – try figuring that sentence out…

By the time I have any idea of what is happening I am sitting on the train on the way in to London – it is only then that I realised that I hadn’t got changed and was in fact heading towards a Psychobilly gig in a white strawberry dress and yellow stripy cardigan. Not the usual colour scheme I have to admit. Oh, and just to really support my ‘hey I’m cool’ image, I managed to drop my sandwich down me the moment the train pulled away! Well done special girl. 

We made it to the London Underworld pretty quickly, Himself had been texting Sean throughout the journey, and he had informed us to give our names in at the door to get tickets. That alone I thought was pretty awesome, but when we realised we had backstage admittance, well, I can only say what happened next was only received by dogs, because I most certainly was not ‘eek-ing’ at a human frequency.

I have to just stop and explain the taking stock moment that occurred between the arrival and the band taking to the stage. You see, there I was, with a backstage pass to my favourite bands gig, with my wonderful boyfriend who was on the phone to his best friend who had just played to 500 people at Bloodstock.  Yes, there is no wonder the bestie had trouble believing this, I have trouble believing this.

As the band took to the stage, the crowd filled the room. Not being the tallest ‘being in the world, I have to say, there wasn’t too much I could see, when all of a sudden, we realised that we had backstage passes – I didn’t need to stare the coat seams on the guy in front, we could watch it from backstage. Off we bounded to the back of the Underworld (oh, just to clarify Underworld is the venue – not Hades abode), and with one flash of the wrist band, we found ourselves standing on the side of the stage. Best place in the whole venue, and you could see people watching us, trying to figure out who an earth the couple  where to bag that position and why an earth was she wearing a white strawberry dress.

The band were amazing. The crowd chanted, bounced and moshed their way through in the pit, whilst I happily danced my little feet off, singing my heart out at the side of the stage. Being in the state of shock that I was the previous Monday, the gig was blurry with the memory somewhat scatty. However, that Saturday I could hear every word and savour ever song. It was phenomenal. I have to say, when it had been announced in July that Sarah was leaving and that she had been replaced, I was unsure how easily she would be replaced, and with all respect, Sarah is perfect in Walk off the Earth, but Kenda totally smashed it joining The Creepshow. Her voice is staggering – she is so small and tiny and then she belts out the most astonishing raspy sounds…and she’s an absolute sweetheart to boot. 

Himself and I had headed outside the venue at the end of the gig – only to realise the band was still inside. Not a problem for important people such as ourselves. As the hordes exited and found themselves ushered towards the exit, with one flash of the super-wrist and we gained entry back inside. Very smug. It was weird to see the room which had previously been fit to bursting moments earlier, now empty.

Once all instruments had been loaded into the van, the band named a pub (which to be fair neither of us natives had heard of, but followed anyway) and there we found ourselves – drinking in one of those too-cool to have a name outside-bars drinking with my favourite ever band. The nerves had slowly started to dissipate – this could be vodka related to be perfectly fair and I began to enjoy just ‘hanging out’. Yeh-uh! I loved the fact that I got to see my idols as regular people. Drinking, laughing and joking.  The Rev and Daniel, had an on-going joke which was repeated many a time throughout the night – each time the rev explaining it…just in case we missed it the first five times ;p

By the time we all (yes, I can say we – as in me, himself and the best band ever – that is a collective ‘we’ woohoo) it had to be said I was pretty tiered, and so were they. As some chatted, others dosed, whilst I fought every urge to fall asleep (despite my head happily nesting on himself and my eyelids slumping heavily over my eyeballs).  Partly because I didn’t want to miss anything, partly because I was awfully concerned about drooling or snoring in front of rock stars…because let’s face it, I honestly didn’t have enough cool points to risk it.  In hindsight, I really shouldn’t have worried about losing cool points that night as the next morning I had severe bed hair (no not bed hair – front room floor with pillow made from clean washing hair). No hairbrush and I couldn’t get into my bathroom for love nor money. Each attempt to gain WC entry was thwarted, thus leaving me with no makeup, huge hair and a considerably full bladder. Yup – I am that cool.

Anyway the morning that followed was all very bizarre (not that the rest of the week was normal). Rock stars in my garden, rock stars drinking tea, rock stars stroking (or attempting to in Meows case) kitties and himself making mounds and mounds of bacon sandwiches. By the time the band left, a few neighbours were in the street, watching the mass exodus into the large green van crammed into our tiny road – they of course knew not who the band consisted of, they had no idea how in my world Southchurch would never seem the same again or the wonderment of my week.

If you are still reading this almighty content, then hats off to you. This entry is hardly the usual fluffy ramblings of Nu, but it is a milestone marker of my life. Do you know, I have only been in my home since December 2011, but I have more happy memories in the past 8 months than the 5 years in my last abode – and let’s face it, Rock stars never stayed in Pitsea, but then neither did Himself, and imagine how dark a place my world would be otherwise.

Rock and Roll Sweetheart

You know those moments in life when things are going amazingly and its as though everything you had wanted and more happens - you find that your dreams are fulfilled; but then you learn that that's all it ever was...a dream. You see, actually the bell that you hear in the background is not a musical accompaniment it is in fact the alarm buzzer, and that shout out of your name didn't come from the rock stars mic as you had previously believed, but is actually your other half waking you telling you that you need to get up because your now running rather late. Well, this Monday was the most amazing night ever, and when I woke up on Tuesday morning, I nervously looked to my boyfriend for some form of confirmation that I hadn't created the memory in my dreams and I am astonished (and ecstatic) to confirm that this actually happened!

Lets start at the very beginning, apparently its a very good place to start .

Nearly three months ago about 1am one sunday morning my boyfriend (who is going to need a tag and as a result I have decided to write him as Himself and I drove home from his gig in Colchester and I was babbling (because I babble alot) about my favourite band 'The Creepshow'. He wasn't too aware of them, but had remembered seeing something about them on his friends Facebook profile (yes - I know how much I hate Facebook, but in this instance I'm pretty chuffed) and said his friend from Aberdeen was hosting their gig in Scotland. I don't remember the exact reaction, but I think it involved me bouncing up and down like a crazy saying in very fast succession 'canwegocanwegocanwegocanwego?' and bless his heart the brilliant man said yes. So 2am in the morning and I am booking flights to Scotland.

So, this week was the week of the gig and so on Sunday morning we left the sunny world of Essex and began our journey t'up north. Cue Sunday evening, hanging out in a hotel balcony...oh hang on - first I need to tell you about this hotel. We had taken three wrong turns and had pulled into a wrong hotel coming away saying 'thought it was too nice'. Eventually we found the sign for the hotel but as we pulled into the carpark of Beamers and Lexus' we decided this was even posher than the first hotel and no, this too must be the wrong hotel - so we drove back out. Turns out, that was the hotel, and the chandelier and grand piano entrance was the opening to our hotel...not a bad start for our first holiday.

Right, now I can get back to hanging out on the hotel balcony, when out of the blue  Himself decides to say 'I was going to tell you this tomorrow, but I want to tell you now that your going to meet the band and you can be there before the gig for the sound check'. After telling him he best not be joking, the super babble began once more and the bouncing recommenced.

You can only imagine what I was like by the time Monday afternoon came around - except from after all the chipmunk babbling, I was so crazily excited that I couldn't even string a sentence together - each time I tempted to speak all that could come out sounded like a Chip or Dale on helium...eventually the power of speech left me all together.

Lots of wine and a fair bit of vodka later (when in Scotland and all that) and the band arrive. As speech had left me, I figured I could play a cool-mute. Except for when this cool mute decided to lean on the bar door, rather than the doorframe and found herself falling backwards through the doorway - luckily nobody had noticed, but internally I could feel my inner cool-person (what does one call their inner cool person? I feel like she should be called something like Ethel or Maude?) shake her head, role her eyes and tut repeatedly at me. 

The band all rolled out of a green van and the grand unloading began. Himself took in some equipment, whilst I ran the scenario through my mind - if I carried in a guitar, would that make me like 'baby' in Dirty Dancing 'I carried a guitar'.

Himself returned saying that I should go and talk to them. Now, I am under no illusion that I'm cool and when nervous, I tend to blurt out ridiculous replies, but as began to eye him a response, he had already grabbed my hand and was half way through telling the Rev McGinty how I much I loved the band and that we had travelled the length of the country to see them, to which the Rev thanked me and being the bright spark that I am, I responded with 'thank you' back. At this point my inner cool person (aka Ethel or Maude) raised her palms to the sky and stomped off into the shadows leaving me to my own geeky devices - a worry event I admit.

Himself then walks me over to 'Sickboy' and Kenda and introduces me, asking if it's ok to get a photo - to which the lovely people responded by popping me in the middle to pose. I'm not too sure hat happened after that...I think I went into some form of geeky coma, because the next thing I remember was the soundcheck - where I so desperately wanted to take a photo. However, being unsure of the protocol and cool-people etiquette wasn't so sure about doing. Again, luckily  Himself's brain cells still functioned perfectly and he took a photo of me with the band in the background. I can't quite convey how surreal this all was for me and the photos are actually essential for my belief of the event. 

For Himself,who is used to performing at his own gigs, the world of other bandness isn't anything too out of the norm - but as I get starstruck watching my very own boyfriend on the stage, I truly didn't stand a chance of a Nonchalant-Nu in the company of my favourite band of all time.

It felt like an age before The Creepshow actually took to the stage that evening. The starter band, just kept playing 'one more song'. Now ordinarily, I am sure they are lovely, but as it stood, it was like that nightmare where you are trying to get somewhere and keep getting delayed. I even contemplated flicking the trip-switch to get them off the stage, but luckily, contemplation was as far as I actioned...see I can be well behaved if the right carrot is dangled.

When the band took their places on the stage,  Himself and I took to ours - slap bang in the middle in the front row, and apart from some spinny dancing, that is pretty much where I rooted myself for the next hour. In fact, when people tried muscling in on my position, I was swept back to the front row by  Himself  and his friends. 

All concerns I had over the band not living up to my expectations instantly dissipated. I was mesmerised from start to finish. Oh and whilst I’m talking about exceeding expectations, I should also mention at this point that Kenda (the lead singer) not only held my hand whilst on stage, but also jumped down into the crowd and danced with me. Hell yeah, that happened. At that point, my life could not have been any cooler, or so I thought. 

You see, moments later, thanks to my brilliant boyfriend and his fabulous friend an amazing turn of events occurred. The Rev McGinty took to the mic and asked into the crowd a 'Nic from Essex'. At this point I sourly thought 'Lucky cow', but then the brain cells started to connect and slowly my limbs began to move, and my hands rose into the air. That lucky cow was me. The Rev dedicated not only my favourite song to me, but also the entire set in my honour. It was such an amazing moment, I didn't even recognise my own name, even writing this now, it feels as though my memory belongs to a move, because lets face it, it’s pretty mind-blowing.

So just to clarify, as I know this is being typed via a chipmonk memory - not only did I get to see my favourite band play live, I also got to meet them, have them dance with me during the set, dedicate  my favourite song to me and have the gig in my name. Oh Ethel / Maude, you should have stuck around, because by all stretches of the imagination - that is damn cool!

I wanted to write this entry in so much detail, but the details arn’t there, because my mind was so utterly dumbfounded. What I do know is that every time I think of Monday I get the most heart warming feeling and the most insane dopey grin. I have to say that yes, I am smiling because of my favourite band, but I smile even wider for the man who made it possible. 

A year ago, if you had told me how my life be right now, I would never have believed you. In the past year I have wished on so many stars to find my happiness - and today when I looked at the clock at 11:11, I had nothing to wish for. I have found my happiness and so much more. I said to my mum the other day that Monday was the best day of my life, and she said that I was wrong, and that it wasn’t – she said the best day of my life was when I met  Himself...and you know what? Mother knows best, it truly was.