Sunday night. London Astoria 2. Cobra Starship & All Time Low. Lots of teenagers in hoodies (y'know, like emo/punk style hoodies, not hoodie-hoodies). Running late as ever, we miss the first band, though that was partially intentional, get there in time to grab a drink and find a place to stand (up on the balcony thank you very much; no floor standing for me. Have I not already outlined that I'm old now and can't handle mixing it up with the raring-to-go youth?)The band come on and play a good set, though I'm not familiar with stuff from their new album (does that make me a bad friend?) apart from the horrendously catchy Guilty Pleasures (with its hilarious videos). Make attempts to get hold of people, then run into Victoria in the glassed-off section of the bar who gets Alex. He walks us backstage; my sister is weirdly psyched about this, despite the amounts of times I've mentioned how unglam it actually is. I think she is still surprised by *this* however: a small poky dark green room that can barely hold five people comfortably - that the two co-headliners are sharing. There's rum and beer and pitta bread and Sainsburys Economy Jam and flying saucers, and at one point after the gig has ended and both bands plus assorted friends are in and around the dressing room, a big Disney singalong starts off, a medley of Aladdin hits. It's the most unglamourous, un-rock'n'roll thing, like, ever. Though very funny.
After wandering round Soho looking for food and Alex being accosted by various fans who are still hanging outside the venue and the bus taking ages to pack and leaving way beyond bus call, the bus finally moves off and heads a very circuitous and long route back to Shepherds Bush. We're on the upper deck, sat round a table watching series 1 of 24, along with three of All Time Low (seem nice, very young, quite drunk) and three We go grab a corner booth while the bands and crew check in. The hotel bar is painfully expensive; a couple of people have already ordered drinks but then Gabe turns up with wine and vodka taken from the bus, which is sneakily drunk in the corner. Some of the De La Soul tour are propping up the bar, which everyone tries not to look at too obviously, but - De La Soul! Holy shit.
Eventually it's like 2am; my sister has to be up at 6 for a call time of 8am in East London, so after arranging to pick Alex up the following afternoon as he's invited himself round for "tea" (what else, in England?), we head on out, grab a bagel to share at the 24 hr place on Bush Green then jump on a bus down to Hammersmith to get the night bus back on out to our neck of West London. When I finally crash, I'm beyond relieved (for a change) that I have no work the next morning, and do not envy my sister in the slightest...
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