You hit the deck, knees first to the dirt, then fully on all fours. You shuffle out of the central area opposite to where Clive left. You take a hard right, and quickly take another left. You’ve mastered this, and are now expertly commando crawling your way through towards what you hope is an exit.
Hearing nothing more of Clive, you make it out. You don’t even look around. You just half-run towards the tall iron gates that mark the edge of the Orangery grounds. Now clear, you have one cautionary glimpse back, and see the silver haired mystery disappearing into a railway arch, under the viaduct.
The see a crowd of people heading towards The Hop and slyly work your way towards the centre of the crowd, making nervous but friendly conversation with them.
Inside The Hop, you head upstairs with them. Something has shaken you about the encounter with the strange man and you don’t want to be alone in case he comes looking for you. Eager to stay close to your adopted Long Division posse, you get a round of drinks in.
YOU HAVE SPENT FIFTEEN POUNDS
You all move through to the upstairs room of The Hop which is utterly rammed as Nine Black Alps take to the stage. Is that sweat dripping down the walls? Having barely squeezed through the excitable crowd, the band kick into their first song and the room comes alive. You have no choice but to move in unison with the organic, swaying mess of bodies.
The sound is loud and brutal and urgent. Sunlight is barely making it to you, in the centre of the crowd, it feels dark and dangerous and rather bloody marvellous, you think to yourself.
You have a great time with your new found friends and as the last chord rings out, you make your back into the bar.
Half the crew want to head over to be in Warehouse 23 early for The Fall, so fancy checking out That Fucking Tank on beforehand. But the other half fancy a bit of Indie-Pop instead. Which is it going to be?