26. cape wrath
Our stint as the Cape of Good Hope's resident band didn't last long. A week. Two gigs. We simply couldn't get the numbers.
We knew there'd be a law of diminishing returns. A total of 44 paid to see us first time, but that included a lot of people who knew us. They weren't going to come every week, so we managed only half that many on Wednesday 9 March 1977. Outside the university, people didn't want to hear a band playing the Stones and old rockers unless the band was professional and very good.
The landlord didn't tell us not to come back, we just drifted away by mutual consent. A fiver each wasn't worth it for either of us.
We did play there again, but not for many weeks and for a different reason.
Meanwhile this second show had its moments.
Patrick claims the low turnout had something to do with his amplifier. The Cape had a tight staircase, and Pat's amp scraped against a wall and crashed on its side. When he played, he says 'it emitted irregular blasts of the most floor-clearing potency'.
With so few people in attendance, our first set was very short. Though not quite Bernard Cook's 'two numbers and off'.
I keep mentioning Bernie's various sayings. They were a soundtrack to my life, especially the student years.
'Two numbers and off' was his reaction to an audience who didn't really want us there. It helped to lighten a set that wasn't going great. He took to saying it ironically, when we were getting a good response, but that didn't happen at Cape of Good Hope II.
Our first set there was four numbers and off, though Sympathy for the Devil was a lengthy opener. We played to let people in the bar know there was a rock band above them.
Thankfully we got two duffers out of the way, Can't you hear me knocking and Around and Around, then stopped for a beer.
During the break, there was a commotion from above. We're on the landing when someone rushes past us pursued by the landlord - who slips, falls down the stairs, and smashes his head on a radiator! He's semi-conscious for a while. The guy was trying to steal something or other. It was that kind of pub. Shame we didn't cut it there.
After this excitement, we're back onstage and in between numbers when I look to my right and see Patrick talking to a girl. He's bending at the waist because we're on a stage and she's on the dance floor. Their conversation lasts a fair bit, too. From the expression on her face, I think I know what she's suggesting, but I can't be sure and Pat just steps back and plays.
After the gig, we finish packing the gear and hang around for a last drink upstairs. Hasn't been the best gig, but we're OK with that as always. They all count; the landlord and the radiator is a tale to tell; and we're playing live again a few days later, back in our natural habitat of a university college.
I'm on my own, sitting by the left-hand wall, when the girl comes and settles next to me. She's got another one with her.
Here, says the first miss. Your friend thinks we should dance for nothing. She's referring to her chat with Pat.
Oh yeh? What did you expect from him?
She looks up at me from under her brow, puts on a certain smile. Something nice, she says...
She's wearing a thin yellow shirt. You can see her black bra through it. Bernie still shakes his head at the memory. She's not pretty, but sexy. Maybe they're even thinking of forming a trio. Her friend, though, is not at all nice looking. One reason and another, I don't follow this up.
For the second time in three days, I turned down a groupie! Rock star I really wasn't. Nor was Pat Slade. He didn't accept her offer either.
I wish I had. I really wished it soon afterwards. Because this was one of those savage ironies life throws at you sometimes. That same night, maybe the same moment I was refusing those two girls, my girlfriend in London was sleeping with someone else for the first time!
I found out a few days later, just before our next gig. The show must go on? I fucking wonder...