My holiday over, but highly recommended, we would return to Santorini 5 years later, and this time successfully see that sun go down.
Back home, back to work and it would be about six and a half weeks before my next Rod fix (Or so I thought!), although we had a bonus before that with two dates at the O2 to see Bon Jovi on 20th. and 23rd. June – which was absolutely brilliant, it was to be the fourth and fifth times of seeing them and they never fail to please in our opinion.
The end of June was always a busy time of year at work, so I had my head down. As we drifted into July, completely out of the blue I get a call – “Hello Colin” (This sounds serious, he’s calling me Colin!) – It’s Neal, “How are you doing”, “Yeah, fine brother, how was Manchester, not spoken to you since then”, “Yeah, really good mate, how were your holidays?, “Yeah, brilliant, what do I owe the honour for mate?”, “I was just wondering, I’m sure you said you would have loved to gone to the Edinburgh Castle gig, didn’t you?”, “Hmm, well who wouldn’t, why?”, “Well you see, I had tickets for Roxy and Dee, and now out of the blue, Dee can’t go”, “Oh right, now you have got me thinking, obviously it’s a bit short notice, I need to talk to Alison, then look what options I have”, “Well mate, don’t think I can help out much there, because I know they booked to share a room together, plus bought rail tickets ages ago”. “Okay mate, I will try and be as quick as I can, then get back to you”.
I sweet talked Alison into saying, “Yes if you want to, go”, but the bigger problem was the cost of getting there was more than the concert ticket, so I didn’t even start looking for anywhere to stay. But the carrot had been dangled, and what’s more my juices were enhanced by what was happening not too far away from Edinburgh the very next day (more on that later).
I decided to call Neal to discuss my dilemma, “Hello brother, I’ve looked up the price of the trains to get there, and to be honest, the whole package would cost me too much, I don’t suppose you know the price of Dee’s train ticket and if it is transferrable do you?”, “No, I don’t, let me ask”. Neal would come back and tell me the train ticket was only £25 return and it didn’t have a name on it at all. “Oh, okay, that is good news, so if I can find somewhere to stay, as I’ve not even bothered to look yet, is she happy to sell them to me? But I need both, otherwise it’s just too much”, “Yeah, matey, she said she would happily sell them and thanked you for offering to buy them, otherwise they would have gone unused”, “Alright, give me a day to try and find somewhere then I will get back to you to confirm”.
My dilemma was I knew we were running out of time, I would be reliant on the post getting the tickets to me, plus I really could not afford another £70 plus on somewhere to stay, my search was proving pretty fruitless, most places seemed fully booked or wanted a three figure sum for one night. Suddenly as I changed my search for budget accommodation in Edinburgh, up popped “Backpackers”, further investigation revealed there was one directly opposite the railway station and what’s more, they were only charging the outrageous sum of £9-50 for the night! Well come on, I only needed a pillow for a few hours, because if I got my plans right, I would be on the first train out of Edinburgh the next morning – But why was that you might well ask? Just wait and see.
Totally unaware of the type of experience I was about to let myself into, I booked it, called Neal and said “If I can get those two tickets, then I’m coming”. I must say we did it by the skin of our teeth, the tickets arrived on Saturday 10th. July – with the concert on Wednesday 14th. But boy was I over the moon, inside Edinburgh castle, and that little (Or very big, in my eyes) bonus planned for the following day.
The big day arrived, by being a London commuter, I had a travel card, so no extra cost to me getting up to King’s Cross, I think the train we were to catch was just after the scheduled rush hour – so sometime between 9:30 and 10:30 I believe. The first hurdle was meeting up with Roxy, I think I got there first, I hate being late for anything, but we recognised one another, then eagerly awaited on the concourse until the service appeared up on the board. I don’t know why now, but I had decided to take a large bag with me, it was the one my son once used for cricket, so it was not that deep, but rather long which I think amused Roxy, as she giggled and said “Staying up there for the week are we?”, the good thing is, it sort of broke the ice a bit, you couldn’t really say we knew anything about one another at all, but here we were together, suddenly about to spend the next 5 hours with one another on our journey “over the border” to see the one thing we certainly did have in common!
The journey seemed to pass pretty quickly, we chatted about everything and anything, bought ourselves a sandwich and a drink or two and rarely had any of those awkward pauses where you think, is it my turn to start on a different subject! So, it must have been close to around 3 o’clock when the train pulled into Waverley station located in the centre of Edinburgh. Roxy said “Have you got far to go to where you are staying?”, “No not at all, just across the road I believe, how about you?”, “Oh I need to grab a cab”, we bid our farewells and said we would see one another a little later.
I climbed the stairs to Princes Street, my first thought was, there is rain in the air and low cloud everywhere, I looked at the directions I had written down, cross the road and off to the left-hand side, I would find what was little more than a doorway with a sign on (cannot remember the name anymore though), I climbed a flight of stairs and at the landing was an open door with a small desk in the room, a voice said “Oh hi there, can I help you?”, “Hopefully, as long as I have the right place, I think I have booked in here for the night”, “Okay, let’s check you out” – he was giving me a bit of an inquisitive look I thought – “What name did you book under”, “Colin Baker”, “Yep, got you down here, ever stayed here before?”, “No, first time, a bit of a panic last minute thing as I got a belated ticket for the concert tonight”, “Oh really, which one is that?” (Stunned! Really), “Rod Stewart in the castle”, “Oh wow, didn’t know that, should be fun, let me take you to your dormitory”. As I followed him I glanced in a couple of doorways and noticed interesting names to each door way, it was beginning to sink in exactly what I had let myself in for as my thoughts raged “Oh dear, this will be different”, I guess the last time I had experienced anything on a similar scale would have been going on a couple of cub scout outings with my son in the mid-90’s, all be that sleeping in a tent with unknown adults – but I discovered even they would not match this experience one bit.
The dormitory had 4 sets of big metal bunk beds – so 8 people in the room, and guess what the sign said on mine –“Horny” – not the normal sort of thing for an everyday B&B is it? And not the type of plaque you are awarded if you win Chanel 4’s Four In A Bed either! The bunk directly up against the back wall was already taken, at that point I also then realised there was no separation between the two genders per each dormitory either, as the pair by that bunk where having a somewhat friendly chat, well perhaps they weren’t talking to one another that much! With luck, the bunk to the right immediately as you entered the room appeared to have no taker for the bottom bunk at that point, so I quickly claimed it. By now the guy showing me my home for the night had wished me a good evening and disappeared. As I acclimatised to the surroundings I found myself in, plan A was to be, let’s spend as little time as possible in here.
I would place my bag inside the blankets, then head back out, but first explaining to the guy again about my plan that I would probably be gone as early as 6 in the morning, “Not a problem,” he said “As you can see there is no keys required, oh forgot to show you the wash area and there is tea and toast facility if you want it in our lounge area”. I thanked him after seeing a very basic row of sinks and then a few kettles where a makeshift kitchen was located, another “friendly” couple looked up at me as I was shown the room, I think they were checking what their tea leaves read, either that or the steam from their brew had made them go rather misty eyed!
I scampered back down the stairs and onto Princes Street, trying not to think too much about my sleeping den. My first move was to go back into the station and ask a couple of key questions – I bought a return ticket for the next day, why you might be thinking? Patience, I will tell you later. Back up on street level, I walked along Princes Street, camera in hand, I dropped down into Princes Street gardens, then back up again, the mist from the low cloud covered the castle, it was up there somewhere, but not something worth trying to take a photo of. I got a message on my phone to tell me everyone would be meeting in a pub – It could have been the Mitre Bar or Royal Mile Tavern, not sure which. I would check out a few shops, grab myself a large bread roll, eat it in the gardens then head back to the Backpackers to get changed.
A quick scrub down then suitably dressed for the occasion, I wander out and off to find where the pub was, it was starting to rain again, not a good sign. Across Waverley bridge, then across Market Street and drop down to the High Street. It was fascinating seeing all the historic buildings, the pubs were bursting, I finally found the right one on a corner. Rod music blearing out and the party atmosphere was all around. After a few glances, I noticed Neal and Roxy, as I joined them, Neal introduced me to Amanda and Penny. I must say this felt like the most vibrant pre-concert place I had been to so far. Neal would point out that Mary, Rod’s sister was here and mingling with all the crowd of fans. After my single pint of Coca-Cola, anymore and I would probably need to be going to the toilet half way through, we agreed it was probably time to head up the cobbled streets to the castle.
As we exited the pub, that rain had suddenly become much heavier, as we got close to the castle entrance, we were ushered into a single file, rain ponchos were either being offered out or being sold, I can’t quite remember which – as it was Scotland, probably the latter! We would all opt to wear one as the rain was only getting heavier. Inside, we sheltered for a while by the stand, there really was no place to hide from the teeming rain. I think Roxy pointed out that she had just seen Don (Rod’s brother) at the side of the stage. Which allayed some of our fears that Rod could cancel, even at this late stage. My ticket was Block X1, Row B, Seat 1. Or about 4 rows back to the left-hand side of the stage if you were looking out from it.
In hope that the rain would ease, Rod would delay beyond the 8 p.m. stipulated start, the road crew were busy constantly brushing puddles from the stage, as the relentless heavens continued to offload water. Then finally Rod would come on, he would apologise for the weather (As if he could do anything about it!) and said the show would have to be shorter than planned. In fact, I don’t think it was much more than an hour and a quarter. The girls would have raincoats on at some point and Rod would be singing under an umbrella as the tarpaulin covering would collect the rain then expel it all once it became too heavy. I had been at a few outdoor concerts when it rained (Ironically, I think this and the previous night were the only ones he was doing outside in the UK) – but nothing was as torrential as this. But you know the saying, beneath ever cloud, there’s a silver lining. As Rod started kicking his footballs out, after a few dispatched to all parts, he turned to his left and gently kicked one straight in our direction. Now, there’s a lot of cricketing history in my family, and I played as a goalkeeper right up until I was 13. As that ball floated my way it was only going one place, straight in my breadbasket, some people behind me clambered on my back, but there was no chance of letting it slip from my grasp. I just couldn’t believe it, I now had a signed football from Rod and it went straight up my poncho!
With more apologise, Rod would call a halt to the show, it was probably only about 9:30 – but it was still lashing down. We would slowly leave the grounds of the castle, me looking like I was eight and a half weeks pregnant, but grinning from ear to ear. The five of us agreed we were quite peckish, and after hunting around for a while, found a lovely Italian restaurant. We were taken to a basement part of the restaurant where we slowly peeled off soaking wet clothing trying to find somewhere that it might just dry out for an hour or so. My mind though was still firmly on that ball and it wasn’t going out of my sight at any point. I do remember we had a real laugh and the staff were brilliant, we took our time and it wasn’t a problem to them, we wouldn’t leave until after midnight. As we did, we hailed a taxi which took us back across to Princes Street, I was the first drop off “What do I owe you”, “Leave it for now” came the reply, not sure they realise it, but I’m still to settle my taxi fare!
I crept up the stairs thinking, it’s 12:30, don’t want to disturb people, only to find the coffee / lounge area was still buzzing with people. I slipped into my dormitory and grabbed my bag, went to the toilets and took off all the still slightly damp clothing. The safe bet of “always pack an extra pair of underwear” was a godsent, I felt chilly so I put my shirt back on that I had worn on the journey. Then it was the normal pre-bedtime routine, wee and clean your teeth and hands of course! As I crept back into my bunk, I could tell that the two against the far wall had opted just to use the top bunk and were quietly giggling, possibly at the bunk opposite to mine, where a slow and deep snoring sound was coming from. I quietly apologised as I clanked the bag (with football in, on the bed post). To my knowledge the bunk nearest the door was still empty as was the one above me, so I was the fifth of the eight to crawl into bed. I pulled the covers over me and set the alarm on my watch for 5.
If you have been reading my stories so far, you will know I don’t really sleep that well in strange surroundings, and nothing came more strange than where I found myself on that night. In part it could have been the adrenalin, I was still nursing that ball like a new born child, plus the thought of the new day ahead excited me just as much as seeing Rod (in fact it could have been a lot more). However around 1:30 the last three came in, a guy got onto the bunk above me, but they had left the door ajar a bit, and the light from the hallway gave sufficient light to partially see. All of a sudden, a girl started undressing, and I do mean literally, she would turn and reach a nightdress from a bag on her top bunk, slip that on then hoist herself up to the bed. I seriously didn’t believe what was happening!
Rather than let my alarm buzz, I switched it off just before five, tried as quietly as I could, picked up my bag and went off to the wash and toilet area. There was not a great deal of warm water, so a quick wash all over, apply my deodorant, clean my teeth again and relieve myself and I was ready to step out into the real world and put an end to my experience of backpacking. Across Princes Street and into the station, I grab a plastic cup of coffee and a muffin. Asked a guy which platform did I need for the train to Leuchars then went down and got on board. My next exciting adventure was about to begin.
The journey fascinated me, it would take us across the River Forth, you even got to see the rugby stadium Murrayfield, the journey to my intended destination took approximately an hour. On arrival the time was probably just after 6:30. I asked how would I get to my destination and was told, there are complimentary buses from just over the road. One happened to be standing there, I checked if it was the right one and was told “I, we won’t be off for about 10 minutes though”. I started a mental plan of how much time I might need later for my homeward journey. Then we were off, glimpses of the North Sea on the fifteen to twenty minute journey, then we pulled up, and there it was, just how it looked on TV – The home of golf, St.Andrews.
Obviously, I hadn’t pre-bought a ticket, this would be my first ever experience of an Open championship (I have been to two since and should have been going to another this July, but that will have to wait till 2021 now). As I bought my ticket, the guy said to me “You can neigh take that bag onto the course, you have to book it in here” (But that had my football in I thought!). No option, so I handed it over, in the end I was grateful that was the policy, carrying that about for the nextsix to seven hours would have been awkward. Then I was through and followed the people in front, you actually walked across the fairways. The target was the grandstand by the side of the first hole, that allowed you to see them play the first and also tee off on the second. In truth I felt tired, I wanted to sit down, plus I was a bit cold, it was an overcast day, thankfully no rain, although it did drizzle a little later. I couldn’t afford to venture far as my time there would be brief, I thought I needed to be on a bus back to the train station by 1:30 at the latest.
Perched in the grandstand, I got to see the likes of John Daly, Nick Faldo, Rory McIlroy, Ian Poulter, Ernie Els, Tiger Woods, Justin Rose, Padraig Harrington, Tom Watson, Henrik Stenson and Darren Clarke – the last teeing off at 9:53, once he had teed off from the 2nd. It was probably about 10:30 – time for me to move. I would try and venture around the back of the clubhouse, but restrictions were in place. In the end, I would cross back over the course and walk down to the Tom Morris museum, I was fascinated by what was inside. Time ebbed away, I wished I could have spent at least a whole day there at the golf, but I was fatigued. I bought some food and a drink and saw some of the early players finishing their rounds up the 18th. I purchased a few souvenirs and of course a programme (now autographed by 23 of the 53 player profiles – some I will unfortunately never get though). My time was up, off to reclaim my bag and start the long, long journey back home.
It was around two o’clock as I boarded a train back to Edinburgh, I would take a few photo’s out of the window on that hour long journey back to the capital. Once there, I had a bit of time to spare and with a clearer sky than the previous day, I would walk along Princes Street for the last time and take the photos I wanted to take the previous day. I also popped into a souvenir shop and bought myself a tartan scarf that was a little different (In hindsight, I wish I hadn’t as the wool makes it impossible to wear for more than an hour without itching all over). Back to Waverley station and board the train just before four. I found a seat and placed my bag on the rack opposite rather than above me, that way it was always in my eyeline. I would read the Open programme from cover to cover, the journey appeared longer getting back to London, we didn’t pull into Kings Cross until about 9:15, I would drop down to the Thameslink line that would at least give me a direct train back to Carshalton, I was fortunate I only had a ten minute wait. That said, the journey was nearly another hour to get there, add on a twenty minute walk from Carshalton, it must have been close to 10:45 before I put that key in the door. Greetings, a hug, a cup of tea and bed.
My sudden surprise adventure was over, however the clock had ticked on a couple more days, which only meant I had another 5 days till the next leg of my summer tour would commence, and boy way I looking forward to that one.
*Unfortunately, all my searching for a track listing for this Edinburgh gig would prove unsuccessful. Smiler would produce a link to David Pollock’s review from the Scotsman, the first 3 lines are visible today in the news feed, but if you try clicking on the link, the canny Scots want you to subscribe to their paper. With all due respect, I can’t think why a born and breed South Londoner would want to do a thing like that, can you?
**Neal would tell me to spray some furniture polish over the autograph to ensure it doesn’t fade – I did, but I must have got a bit carried away as his signature sort went a bit 3D on me. But it did work as ten years on, it’s still pretty clear now.
Foot note:- Once more, if you also attended this concert, feel free to add anything to my story, what were your memories? Use either the Smiler message board, or if this is released on Facebook, comment there. I would love to hear from you, but more importantly “Have you managed to dry out yet?”.
Words By Colin Baker
Montage By Yve Paige