A couple of weeks ago I went over to London with a few of the boys, initially planning on watching the Foo Fighters at Wembley. However, Dave Grohl stubbed his toe or something and they cancelled the show. Not to be deterred we headed up anyway and just replaced the gig with a night out in the capital. The only problem with that plan was the fact that we were a group of 4 men and as such a lot of places didn't want to let us in , worried that we would ruin their penis:vagina ratio. We ended up spending the majority of the night in Be At One in SoHo going through a variety of mojitos until the early hours when my tiredness finally hit me and I called it a night and headed back to our apartment.
Funnily enough a night of rum turned out to be the first night in over a week that I didn't need sleeping tablets to get to sleep. Just as well really as I had to be up early to catch a train from Brentford (where we were staying) to Gatwick, ready to catch my flight to Barcelona.
And so, nursing a hangover I started my train/plane/taxi journey from Urban Villa Brentford to Hesperia Tower Barcelona. A slight change in weather was anticipated. In preparation for this sun I had brought with me two snapbacks to protect my bald head, unfortunately I left roughly 50% of these in my taxi from the airport to the hotel.
I was also under orders from my doctor to not allow myself to get overtired as it can increase the risk of seizures. Having just spent the best part of the day travelling with a hangover this meant that if I wanted to go to Sonar Festival in the night I would be needing a significant disco nap first.
This nap, combined with the Red Bull tent at Sonar kept me going through the first night in Barca and awake long enough to see the sun rise over the warehouse that was hosting the festival.
Being in Barcelona we of course made time to visit Barcelona's football stadium, The Nou Camp, for a tour of the stadium and a brief break from the Spanish sun. Following on from the tour we headed back to the hotel to get food and squeeze in more disco naps before heading out in the night once again.
This time we were going to check out Barca Pacha. On the way in we enquired about tables and for a €500 minimum spend we could guarantee one. As there were 5 of us not wanting to queue at the bar all night (and me personally really wanting a seat) we went ahead with it and entered the club. Although in a place like this I'd usually prefer to be in amongst things on the dance floor I was quite glad to rest my legs and enjoy the music from a VIP table overlooking the main dance floor for a change. A few hours and a couple of bottles of vodka/disaronno later we stumbled out and headed back to Hesperia Tower.
For night number 3 we were told not to go to a club as it was the Festival of Sant Joan, the Spanish Summer Solstice festival where people would be partying on the beach. So we rocked up at the beach after a few drinks in the hotel, bought a bag of lager cans from one of the cerveza men and tried to not get blown up by the fireworks people were throwing about the beach. Following on from the beach beers (which I'm fairly sure were brewed in the guys own bathtub) we headed into one of the beachside accompanied by a couple of strange Spanish lads that had sat near us on the beach. Unfortunately for one of the boys these two lads found two spanish girls and rode off into the sunset with his freshly purchased bottle of Ciroc and possibly with another one of the boys' phones. Thankfully I was gum deep in a kebab by this point and missed the whole shebang. So the night ended rather disappointingly for half of us, and the rest of us would soon be crashing back to earth with the hangovers brought on by bathtub beer cans consumed underneath the makeshift firework display of Sant Joan.
Much more detail than that I cannot divulge as "what goes on tour, stays on tour".
Unfortunately that rule does not reply to the tour goers themselves, and I was back in Sunny Bristol (for once this isn't sarcasm) all too soon, ready so start my next block of chemo.