Bored with the interval music, I engage a German couple in polite conversation. They are in their early sixties and they’ve flown over from Stuttgart for the festival. Understandably, they’re quite puzzled/disappointed by what appears to be a very poor crowd in attendance, and I have to agree with them. There can’t be more than three hundred of us in what’s a fairly large room.They reckon that compared with back home, it’s not very well publicised for this style and size of event.
While I slowly realise that the price of the same round (Guinness and a Soda water) keeps changing , Astrid, the German lady bemoans the lack of visible percussion on stage awaiting our Mr.Lo. Indeed at this point only a champagne coloured Premier kit is on display along with some unspectacular keyboards. Gunter (no prizes, for guessing which partner he was) makes reference to the ’Sellic Coanection’. I correct his diction and advise that it’s pronounced with a hard Kay. “Sellic is one of our city’s football teams ,the other major one being Rangers” I then attempt to describe the many idealogical differences between the majority of these teams’ supporters. Gunter listens intently as I espouse my perpetual atheism, and the futility of all organised religions, and then asks me, “So who are the good guys?”.
Feeling this is far too reminiscent of one of those job interviews, the sort where you’re asked what Battalion of Boys Brigade you belonged to, I bridle. “Why,simple, anyone that doesn’t drop bombs on Clydebank is a ‘good guy’ as far as I’m concerned!” Fortunately, Gunter laughs off my ‘Meester Fawlty’ moment and we then revert to more suitable small talk – such as the fact that Astrid only lets him drink lager, as his favourite tipple Guinness also gives him terrible, Germanic, wind.
Neither had heard of Amon Duul II or the Choir Organ!
Lighthouse Beacon Straight Ahead 