So last night at the festival, Camille O'Sullivan was playing. Her entry in the programme, looked really interesting, and certainly seemed hotly anticipated. The main organiser chap, Wally, had previously told me he was most looking forward to seeing this woman - due, in no small part I suspect, to her photo involving a lot of leg and fishnet stocking.
When I arrived, I called Wally over to ask about his excitement levels. He arched a cynical eyebrow and muttered, "Well, the picture is certainly an extremely flattering one..." I spluttered a laugh and told him he was being a bitch. He laughed again and said he ought to be used to it by now, publicity shots showing people as gloriously attractive, and in no way relating to reality. He also added "She did come in like a whirlwind though. I imagine she'd be the perfect girl to be stuck in hotel room with with several bottles of champagne and a few grammes of coke..." Now that's a recommendation!
The bar staff arrive quite close to the doors opening as, well, its a bar in a tent, so there isn't drastic levels of things to do. I was very surprised to see Camille was still sound checking, indeed, she continued to do so with the audience already in the enclosure and standing right outside. It was at this stage we all started to see what she was really like- at best you could call her a perfectionist, at worst a demanding bitch. She kept on at one of her band members to "play quieter" insisting it wasn't the volume that was making him loud, but how hard he was playing. Now, I know there is a degree of truth to this, but Christ, the way she went on.
Before the performance began, a skinny ginger guy with a badly knotted tie came up to me and nervously ordered a half Guinness. He then proceeded to tell me how he was friends with Camille on Facebook and had arranged for her to do a special shout out of some kind so he could propose to his girlfriend. He seemed really uneasy and when I enquired why, he said he wasn't sure that she would have got the message. As I've previously mentioned, my ex has been doing the sound at this festival, so I told him if he wrote a note I could guarantee it got backstage. He did so (at first twitching and asking me what to write, before embarking on writing a small novel) and I trotted forward. My ex leapt into action (though frankly I felt he was and had been ignoring me) and assured me he'd sort it out. Lo and behold, halfway through the set , Camille dedicated a song and a wee poem to the couple, who later emerged as an engaged item. This would be heartbreakeningly sweet, had it not been for the skinny ginger guy coming back to the bar to bitch at me- "Christ me girl's got a bake on her tonight. She's in foul form. I've told her to buck up as I've got a surprise for her [way to go keeping that under wraps Casanova] but like Christ alive. She's probably on her period or something. Swear to God, if she says no, I'll come over here and get your number."
Not quite so romantic huh?
As for Camille's performance, I found it awkward and weird, and not in a good 'kooky' way. She seemed to be entirely full of herself as far as I could tell, without the goods to back it up. Not my thing at all- I could imagine she might be the kind of girl who'd turn up at a party and declare she was "the mad one". Each to their own, but when I was offered the chance to go home early, I took it. As did about 50-60% of the staff.
On my way home, I was cycling past an area where I knew a guy I'd been texting lived. Having lived off toast and dilute orange juice for a million years, I decided to send him a text. To explain this- for a month around Christmas time I featured on an advert (well, several) for a popular soap opera. Also at this time, I got accidentally texted by a guy in the city, who as we texted, we found out we lived very close toe ach other. I still have to admit, I find it suspect that of all the UK mobile numbers you could accidentally dial, to get one in the same postcode as you is unnerving. That said, he seemed like a nice enough chap. He had suggested meeting up several times but I was never keen for it, but last night I just decided to do it. I cycled round, and yeah, I was a bit nervous, but he was utterly sweet and really nice. I can post that I did this on this blog because if I told anyone in real life I am sure they would string me up! We chatted and I drank a few tins of cider before alunching into a really self indulgent tirade about Al Quaeda and the media's messed up view of it....yeah. Pure sexy!
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