Back To Blighty Almighty

May I first of all apologise to everybody that I did not get around to visiting whilst at home, as you will read my 20 days of vacation from nautical adventures were pretty much filled with the intentional and of course the unintentional exploits of Multimedia Texas Pete.
The old expression come to mind,

'How can I control my life when I cant control my hair'

The first impression of returning home was of course the airport.
After 3 months of living on the edge of civilisation, dealing with those who also exist outside the tabloid lifestyle of western culture my blood pressur rose as soon as the first overweight sunburnt Brit barged past me to the chocolate in the duty free lounge.
After a deep breath I chose expensive truffles for Mother, 200 superkings for Father, leaving enough Euros for 5 packs of Amberleaf rather than the 10 Golden Virginia that I was hoping to a.Distribute amongst my needy peers
b. Inhale myself over the coming dose of British summer

On arrival back to The O'Connor Ranch in Newquay, my Mother looked particulary strong considering the dehabilitating health circumstances that She has been through in the previous 7 months, however, thankfully, since my departure on April 14th three months had past and an obvious three months of improvement had been quietly going on.

I think my Dad was in shock as I handed over the 200 smokes, the last time I came home from my travels bearing gifts was 1992.

A bacon sandwich and several cups of tea later my head hit the soft deep feathers of the spare rooms pillows. aaaaaaaaa!!!

The following day my folks weren't up to doing much so to my rescue, riding his Toyota Pick-up ( A.K.A. Land Rover Recovery Vehicle) strode Sir Graham of the Clan Burt to carry me away to the south coast where beautiful guitars lay restless in anticipation of the standby button being flicked to ON at another Doris Day Parking rehearsal at the Troubadour Studios Falmouth.

Hardly suprising that the boys had indeed improved as I sat listening and doing what every good roadie should do, ROLL.

With my ears and lungs full of the life I was once accustomed to we retired in preparation for the following days big outing.

THE PASTY SHOPPE

YES, YES, YES, MORE, MORE, LICK THOSE WARM FLOWING JUICES FROM YOUR CHIN AS YOU CHOW DOWN FOR MORE CORNISH SKIRT DRIPPING THE UNMISTAKEABLE FLAVOUR OF A CORNISH MAIDS SUCCESFULL ENDEVOURS. ok. enough of that, no time to do it again

DORIS DAY PARKING HAD A GIG !!!exclamations!!!

- A BIG ONE- !!!!even more exclamations!!!!

Supporting the AUSTRALIAN PINK FLOYD IN NEWQUAY- shit the bed.

I could tell the boys were a little twitchy as the night previously they actually coherently REHEARSED.

A Texas pep talk wasnt needed, they were in the zone

so with a honorary roadies pass, I was going too!

The consumate professional that I am, I arrived before the rest of THE BAND with enough plectrums to warrant my entry backstage to the greatest show on earth.

When I say I arrived before the band, not strictly true.

Graham (the guitarist) drove me (the roadie) to the gig but I still had plectrums.

With an estimated 2000 crowd the boys arrived and set up in the huge marquee-bigtop-massive tent on the Newquay Barrowfields.

Barrowfields, of course, being Barrow lands, in other words ancient burial grounds, Fuck the wierd shit, just play it loud boys, they cant hear ya down there!!!

Photo; Doris Day Parking on a really big stage.

I have tried to upload video of the boys in action but they are just too hot so hopefully soon I will attach a link for you to follow, Cool or what.

Unfortunately there were only a couple of hundred people at the venue as the boys played the early slot of 6.00 and the sun was out so most ticket holders for the event were still sunning themselves on the golden North coast beaches, I'm sure they still heard the band though, It was a memorable gig for me. Hats off to Doris Day Parking.

The following week was well chilled, just Graham, Arthur (Grahams Dog) and I, working on Grahams land in St. Austell, funnily enough after working the Lagos boatyard in 40 degree heat I found that I was burning in St. Austell!! O-ZONE MAN or the lack of. Whilst on the subject of the environment that we share, I would like to recommend a documentary called AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH. get your hands on a copy, That's it for preaching about what we already know and don't do fuck all about. Rant done. Yep.

TODAY IS GONNA BE THE DAY THAT THEY'RE GONNA MAKE LOADSA DOUGH.

Thanks Noel, Thanks Liam, Lord Tim Horner (a.k.a. Angry Youth, remember him?) and myself have made shedloads on the streets with Wonderwall. I promised myself (and Noel when I met him in a Newquay sports shop) that I'd stop playing it but me and Tim had a buskers reunion and still, after all these years, it's what the lager lout stag do's wanna sing to so an hour of G,Em,C and D £50 each it's off to the boozer when suddenly THE MEETING OF THE EX!!!!!! Why do ex girlfriends wanna stay friends eh? I mean why? what's the point! It's already been established that there is no future so ,,,,, Someone help me out on this one. Being in a happy frame of mind I couldn't bring myself to tell her go home to your Husband! so onwards to the rubbish (usedtobe) cheap nightclub for a booze. She said She's put on weight, I say Shes lookin great and so it continued sat outside on the grass, on the grass until the sun came up. TRIFFIC!

I miss her.

Next up comes a day that I would rather hide from. Instead I'm gonna plaster it across the web as an educational supplement for

VERY NAUGHTY CHILDREN WHO JUST REFUSE TO GROW UP

It's high summer in Cornwall, all the kids are having fun, all the festivals are in town and 3 of my 4 brothers and sisters are going to Watergate Bay to get on down to the Stereo MCs and support, I join my brother and sisters and assorted friends, stock-up with a few crates of strongbow (courtesy of Don't Look Back in Anger) and a sherry for the girls (tee hee) and head for the beach to dance and frolic and drink and generally let our hair down. Whilst at the beach I bump into a couple of old team-mates from the Cornish Cup winning team of Godolphin Atlantic A.F.C. . . .Wonderful, Dancing and singing and falling about in the sand , What a giggle.

I'll refrain from mentioning the offending dealer of the completely legal Herbal High tablet that was administered to yours truly. For the sake of modern science I swallowed.

Well What Happened Was............

From an innocent day of gay (easy now) abandon, being buried in sand by the local rug rats (The local bobby refused to assist), performing acrobatics with visiting Brazilian students (my older brothers Brazilian English student) and generally smiling alot, Yours truly, MultiMedia Texas Pete was off his proverbial fuckin tits!

The Stereo MCs were gettin connected, I was getting connected to the Stereo MCs, especially the backing singers, well, one of the backing singers in particular. Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls everywhere, I was lost in space and in Love. My herbal tinted specs stopped the world from turning and I wanted to get myself, I wanted to get myself, I wanted to get myself connected at the groin to mrs pineapple head over yonder.

Now as luck would have it at the end of the show, someone (only God knows who, and why!) told me the band were in the tour bus in the car park. with love in my heart I went to say thank you, I love you, Have my babies.

The six-four Security Guard (6-4 being his IQ of course) had other ideas, but made one terrible error. Through the tinted windows of the tour bus, sillhouetted against the light was mrs pineapple head, unless she had a hairdo double like rockstars do.

"They're not on the bus" said 6-4 . As we all know, a man in love is not to be lied to, and the games began. Being mightily more spritely than 6-4, a game of kiss chase began with off yer face Texas playing knock down ginger with the tour bus to gain the attention and that possible incy wincy moment of eye contact with Miss MCs.

Mr. 6-4 then cheated, a liar and a cheat, what a bitch. Up strolled reinforcements in the guise of the local Bobby who didn't wanna play sandcastles earlier but wanted to play with me now. I wouldn't let him, I was possessed.

The ride to the station was a comfortable one, nice wide seats, clean upholstery etc. Here is where I must say a big YO to the Custody Sergeant (the fella behind the desk when you arrive) who in his years of policing probably realised that mine was obviously a crime of passion and was very leniant. Indeed we chatted, I told him of my travelling No Fixed Abode status and of my blog to prove it and seconds later, there it was ! on his computer screen. We chatted, Regie's a blogger too, we went out back and smoked roll-ups and drank coffee and after half an hour in Her Majesties accomodation I was free. Back in town before my brother and sisters who had to wait an eternity for a regular taxi of their own. So thanks Regie, on return to my blog, He has left a comment for all to read attached to the entry PHOTOS VIDEOS AND STORIES wishing my Mum well and good luck on my adventures. Regie has just completed a John 'o' Groats to Lands End solo charity bike ride so if anyone wants to donate to his charity then send to Regie, Newquay Police Station, Cornwall. Nice one Regie

Of all the poxy stunts I've been arrested for in the past, this one must beat them. Who of you remember when I made the Papers in 1999? Page 4 of the Guardian 'TROUSER DROPPERS HARRASS WOMEN' read the two inch headlines referring to what is commonly known as 'pulling a moony'. I smile in jest whilst under it all there is a very serious message. A.Herbal Highs are well dodgy and B. Dont play Wonderwall cause Karma's gonna land you in a whole heap 'o' doo dooze. just look at Noel and Liam.

JUST SAY NO.

Whilst obviously being safer at sea, Texas Pete still had 10 days of land to navigate safely. This was achieved by grounding myself playing gemstones with my big sister. Off to The Maker Festival we went. Situated on the stunning Rame peninsula, South-West of Plymouth, spending time with my siblings was one of my intended directions to take while at home and here I was accomplishing something that I set out to do, what could possibly go wrong?

THE MAKER SUNSHINE FESTIVAL

We arrived at the Maker Sunshine Festival site in good time for organising the jewellery stand for the weekend. With the festival site being on a peninsula protruding into the English Channel, the weather, sunshine or no was gonna at least be windy, promising rain and maybe a ray or two of sunshine. Wellies at the ready, the construction of the stall went well in the dry and the merchandising of stock brought in the night and without inclination to erect a tent we slept in the market stall.The location that the organisers had given us for a 3x3 metre plot was only 2.5meters wide, leading to two of the four marquee legs being half a metre into the tarmac track, I looked at the tarmac, stared at the chunky pegs supplied with the marquee and wondered why I hadnt brought my power tools with me to erect a 3x3metre marquee! The remaining two legs were positioned beside a farm building with roughly 2 inches of topsoil to insert 8 inch of tent peg! awning lines and bungees and random buckets of scaffold clips held the whole show down. It's a festy, just make do the best ya can. My sister was scratching her head too and so as positively as I could said "it's a festy, let's just make of it the best we can.Running through the 3x3 plot we were given, ran the storm drain facilities, full of mud and hay and crud and general country life so I cleared them as best I could, not of course havin packed my shovel to erect a 3x3 marquee. An eventual pointless task as the stall downhill from us were already set up over their section of blocked rain channel. I'll refrain from spelling it out. My younger sister Kerry and Ohana, a family friend, had also travelled down with us and returned from the camping area asking if they could assist with anything but we had done as much as we could for that evening and decided on an early night as trading at festivals is a long day and there were 4 days of it to follow. So with plastic sheeting, blankets and sleeping bags we slept on the lumpy uneven area of land that was home til Monday.Not long after we discovered that my sisters new trading marquee was showerproof and not waterproof.Drip drip drip triffic, Come the morning my sister (Bo), the stock, the floor the blankets sleeping bags and I were sodden.I'm sure Bo would've called it a day and gone home if I wasn't there to help, I'm sure I would've called it a day and gone home if I hadn't of been there to help, we soldiered on getting slapped by wet flapping marquee awnings, jewellery boards constantly falling like dominos. What a mess.Fortunately, Bo had friends in a local village and we returned from Jason and Jaquelines with a large tarpaulin and Jaqueline was an angel tumbledrying our sleeping bags later on that day. With a reinforced stall and punters arriving we were in better spirits although the recently painted displays were somewhat tatty. It's a festival, no-one gives a damn I reassuringly insisted.It was not long after that the glands in my throat began to swell. The excesses of the previous week followed by a saturated sleep were catching up with me.

Photo; The jewellery boards were safer outside the sodden market stand gazebo thang.

The sun came out briefly, we dried the stall et al briefly but by now I could not swallow or speak. I was officially ill with three days in a windy rainy field to look forward to. What a bitch, The Falmouth Massive were at the festival providing the all night large facilities, The Heathens were playing the following day, Ruarri Joseph was playing the main stage, Dreadzone were doin their thing and all the wonderful world foods and general festival mayhem to be had and I was inna cold sweat. Balls.Of more concern to myself was if this illness worsens then I would miss Tuesdays wedding. With head throbbing I watched The Heathens' set and sadly, unable to play with my friends I retired to the car and held my head as the large bass rig shuddered through the car and my brain while I drifted in and out of sleep.I tried to man the stall as best I could, but with no powers of speech and a head like a hammer I wasn't being very benificial, Sunday night could not come soon enough, It came, we packed up the carnage and arrived home in the early hours and prepared to do it all again in the morning at the Boardmasters on Fistral beach. I'm sure life never used to be such a fuckin mission.

BOARDMASTERS

Strict instructions from the organisers, be at the site between 7 and 9 am because vehicles weren't allowed onsite thereafter. So at 7.05 I arrive before Bo in a taxi carrying stock to be informed that no vehicles were allowed on site until the skip lorry had done it's thing. Twats, I had to carry all the jewellery boards in the wind and rain while trying to find the organisers while explaining to security officers that I'm tryin to find which stall I'm at "Hey Boys, why don't you be secure security and watch this lot while I organise an organiser. What a crock of shit.

A 3metre x 1.5metre area was the designated plot of real estate that Bo had forked out £800 quid for. The privilege of mixing with Newquays corporate elite. Very very fortunately, the people we were to share the 3 metre x 3 metre tent with were an animal activist lot and didnt need their space to trade as they were walking around with clipboards for the duration so a whole 3x3 plot of Fistral car park was ours!!

Wind and rain came of course, it was August. Half hour later Bo arrives with all the rants that I had for the previous half hour been thinking of ranting but had no-one to rant at. Eventually a promised table had arrived and we could start turning this piece of car park into a shop. Trade was slow but there was some trade, I went home in the afternoon to organise another table as the organisers had no more even though I could see some! So off home to steal the garden furniture and return in time to help pack away.

Up the next morning for much the same but I couldn't stick around for too long,,,,,

I HAD A WEDDING TO GET TO

Tune in soon for THE WEDDING OF THE YEAR, the day Mr. Chris Rolfe broke the hearts of thousands of chicks worldwide.

I've been a busy boy back in Portugal so I promise to get up to date with my blog very soon.

Multi-media Texas Pete says Chao for Now

You guys can check out Doris Day Parking on MySpace- incidentally.

xx