Boy In The Bubble

I've been in Amsterdam this week. Canals, pushbikes, whores, clogs, legal weed, cheese, thousands of poo-stringed, red-eyed short-breakers in camouflage gear and German parkas stumbling from one tourist trap to the next.

Sounds like hell. I however am protected from all this. I'm even protected from the sun. Being on the lower floor of a football stadium, facing East (I'll have to check that, but I trust Jack Aubrey has served me well), I can see the pleasant weather but it doesnt reach me. There are thousands of tons of concrete between us, and a moat prevents my escape. Only the wind can touch me. It doesnt so much touch me as dust-rape my eyeballs every time I step out of the cosy, pre-fab home. So I'm learning to avoid that.

Staging a concert where projection screens play such a large role in the same week as midsummers eve wasn't the best idea. But well-thought out decision-making is not our forte. The very fact I'm employed makes that obvious.

When I do choose to brave the element (not a spelling mistake) I check my phone for anything from Victoria. Left turn. Walk up the ramp. I adjust my eyes to the perma-darkness caused by the glorified curtain we paid a horrendous amount to cover the transparent roof. Take some snaps for my boss to check our progress. Make some idle chit-chat. Left turn. More pictures of the same thing from a different angle. Left turn. Squint into the distant sunlight.

Into the dark again. A hazy tunnel with water at the end. An assortment of treats to curtail my boredom. Left turn. Check phone. Reward myself with a chewy, sugary treat. Lions are my favourite, though at this moment I've settled for a Mars Bar.

Rinse, and repeat. Eventually, a blanket is drawn over the cage and I fall into an uneasy sleep.

Tomorrow we do it all again.

Show day. Hundreds of strange people arrive and tap on my protective plastic ball. Some spin me. Some kick me. Few greetings, many demands. Flashbulbs startle me. The laughter is not at me, but not for me either.

Then all is quiet. No evidence of the previous days' madness save for hundreds of crushed cans and water bottles, bundles of used tape, scraps of plastic, all colours of the rainbow. I sit back in my ball, nibble on my fun-size treat, wondering where the fun went.

I miss my girl.