2012 - a Buzzcocks Odyssey Part 3

There is something a bit dreary about a venue immediately post-gig. It's a little like casual sex - the lights come on, the excitement and intimacy is over and you're left with an unsettling vision of how shabby and sticky things are. And yet you don't want to leave. You want that little thrill to be more than a memory. You want the residual excitement to continue to light you up. But it's a forlorn hope. The party is over. The hosts want you out of the house.

I don't know if it's my perception changing over the years, maybe it's health and safety. Venues want you out as quickly as possible these days. Didn't bother me that everyone was being steadily herded away from the stage. I knew from prior experience that the aftershow would be in the upstairs bar, so I hung around looking smug at the foot of the stairs, behind the velvet rope. It would surely only be a  matter of time before I'm whisked up to the inner sanctum for some proper ligging.

OK, I'll wait in the lobby.

OK, I'll wait outside. The band will be out in a minute and we'll go back to the hotel for a proper chat.

It's getting bloody cold. Scantily-dressed young women are going into the venue. Something's Gone Wrong Again.

I spot Buzzcocks' manager Raf packing up at the merchandise booth. I front up to the bouncer (which I should have done an hour ago). "OK if I nip in and buy a T shirt?" He nods. I'm clearly old and not looking to blag my way into the nightclub with the totty. Raf remembers me from various other occasions.

"Have you been backstage yet?"

Raf takes me backstage. The band are more or less leaving. I walk down to the car with Pete. He's telling me about the primitive wired internet at his hotel. We pause at his transport, which is waiting to leave.

"Short and sweet", he says and we shake hands.
"See you in Manchester", I say.

And then he's gone. Ever fallen in love with a band you shouldn't've fallen in love with?

Next time out - Manchester here I come!