Hello Glastonbury!

By Aaron D Phillips

'Everyone who's been in a band will relate to (and laugh along) to this book'.

 

Andy Packham is a twenty-something who dreams of playing the drums and joining a band. After his personal life is turned upside-down, Andy, Sam, Johnny and Wayne all embark on an adventure that will see them play the largest outdoor music festival in Europe.

 

There will be plenty of obstacles to trip them up on the way as they stumble towards the ultimate goal - playing Glastonbury. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aaron D Phillips
• Release date: Jun 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393803256

Book preview

Chapter One

‘Come on in Andy, we’re just about to get started’.

The whole room turns around and stares at me, so I shuffle to the back of the office and take a seat. Tim Esquire, the owner of the IT company I work for, is stood at the front of the room in his usual navy suit. His grey hair is slicked back with far too much gel. He takes a sip of water before clearing his throat.

‘Thank you for all attending this meeting, I appreciate that you all want to crack on with your jobs’.

There were groans from around the room.

‘You may have heard some rumours that have been circling around for the past week or so, but I wanted to clarify some things...’

‘We’re all getting the sack, right?’ interrupted a voice from the middle of the room.

Tim wiped some sweat from his forehead.

‘Well, I’m afraid it isn’t great news. As of tomorrow, the company will be sold. The new buyer has assured me there will be jobs for you all, if you’re happy to commute to Bristol’.

More groans and tuts from around the room.

‘Bristol? That’s well over a ninety-minute drive for most us, that’s not feasible. Basically, we are all sacked then’ said the same voice as before.

I look around at all the disgruntled and angry faces, and then at Tim, looking sweaty and uncomfortable. Serves the greedy bastard right, I thought.

‘Well, that’s us fucked then Andy’.

Big Nige stood up and walked out of the office. Everyone else began to follow him.

‘If you wouldn’t all mind waiting please, there are details to discuss’ said Tim, flicking through a rack of papers.

‘Bollocks’ said Big Nige.

I always liked Nige. You can probably guess why he’s called Big Nige. He’s big. Like, six foot four big. Lovely guy though.

‘You want a coffee?’

‘Yeah go for it’.

‘I had a feeling that was coming. Contracts being lost and a reluctance to take on any new staff...the writing was on the wall. I expect Tim needs the money to pay for all that shit he puts in his hair; not to mention all the women on the side he’s shagging’.

There were rumours around the office that Tim had been having affairs, but I’d not seen any evidence of it.

‘Yeah, you may be right. I’m guessing you’re not going to travel to Bristol. There’s no way I can afford to do that’.

Nige poured two cups of coffee. The steam from the kettle covered his glasses making him pour hot water over his shoes.

‘Oh bollocks. These were new on this week’.

I tried not to laugh as he took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt.

‘Did your mum buy them?’

Big Nige is twenty-eight and still lives with his parents. I can’t really take the piss though, I still live at home with my dad, Derek. It’s always been the two of us as my mum died when I was little. I don’t really remember much of her, and dad rarely talks about her, but we cope. Just.

‘The bloody waters burnt the leather off the top, look. Mum’s going to go mental’.

‘Let’s hope we get some decent redundancy money then, so you can buy another pair’.

‘Yeah, I’m not hopeful about that either’.

We walked outside and sat on the grass at the front of the office. It’s mid-April, so the sun was pretty warm. I watched a few of the guys from the office walk past us with Tim following behind.

‘I appreciate it’s a difficult time for everyone, but you’ll all receive a letter in the post tomorrow that will outline all the details’.

Nige huffed and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

‘Want one?’

‘You know I don’t smoke’.

‘Yeah but thought you might need one after today’.

‘Nah, don’t think that’ll help to be honest. Think I’m going to head home. I need to think about what I’m going to do job wise’.

‘Ok mate. It’s shit out there as we’re still in a recession, so fuck knows what I’m going to do either. I’ll give you call tomorrow, yeah?’

‘Yeah, cheers Nige. Speak tomorrow’.

It only takes ten minutes to walk home from the office. I live in a small town called Prestow, in Somerset. The walk home takes me through the old town; which is made up of cobbled streets – perfect to trip up on. I live in a two-bed end of terrace house on the edge of Prestow. It’s a dead-end street, so we don’t get much traffic. It also means I can listen to Iron Maiden and Metallica without annoying the neighbours. As I walked to the end of our street, I noticed the front door of our house was slightly open.

‘Dad?’

I pushed open the door and poked my head into the hallway. I could hear the TV on in the lounge, so edged through the hall towards the door. I spotted dads legs hanging off the edge of the sofa.

‘Shit, dad, are you ok?’

His eyes were closed, and he was lying across the sofa. My mind was racing as I tried to remember how to do CPR from a first aid training course last year. I put my hands together and placed them on his chest and took a deep breath. You can do this. I started compressions when dads’ eyes opened in terror and he sat bolt upright.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’

I was sent flying on to the floor whilst our cat Pip, was now hanging from the lightshade in the ceiling.

‘I thought you had died so I was trying to give you CPR’.

‘Died? What’s wrong with you? I just nodded off!’

‘The front door was open, so I didn’t know if we had been robbed or you’d been murdered’.

Dad got up and shut the front door.

‘I was just letting some air through as it’s a nice day. Christ, don’t do that again, you almost killed me through fright’.

‘Sorry. I thought you had actually died’.

Dad picked me up off the floor and patted me on the shoulder.

‘I’m still going, don’t worry. Do you fancy a take-out for dinner? I can’t be arsed to cook’.

I looked at the pile of washing-up in the kitchen sink and nodded in agreement.

‘I do have a bit of bad news, though’.

Dad retrieved Pip from the ceiling and sat back down on the sofa.

‘It can’t be any worse than what’s happening in the economy. I saw that the cheese factory just laid off a load of staff. At least your job is pretty safe’.

‘Well, you say that’.

‘Shit. Not you as well?’

‘Yeah. Tim sold the company, so unless we want to travel to Bristol and work for the new company, we’re out of a job’.

‘Bollocks. I’ll have to see if I can get some more hours on the taxi. Will you get some redundancy money?’

‘I think so. They are sending us a letter tomorrow with all the details in’.

Dad seemed a lot calmer than I thought he would be. He works as a taxi driver, but we’ve survived with both of us working. I’m going to have to find something else quickly.

‘We’ll be ok son, try not to worry’.

‘I’ll go to the agency tomorrow and see what work they have’.

Dad nodded and smiled. I watched him walk into the kitchen and take some tablets. I hope he doesn’t slip back into old habits.

Chapter Two

‘Wake up Andy, there’s a letter here for you that looks important’.

I opened my eyes to see dad waving a letter in front of my nose.

‘I reckon it could be the one from work’ said dad as he opened the curtains, allowing in a burst of sunshine that almost blinds me.

‘Ok, thanks. Is there any coffee?’

‘I’ve just boiled the kettle. Get yourself dressed and I’ll have some breakfast ready for you’.

Dad went downstairs as I sat looking out of the window. I don’t think dads ever made me breakfast before. At least he didn’t look high or stoned. I had a shower and went downstairs where dad was serving up scrambled eggs on toast.

‘Here you go. There’s fresh coffee in the pot too’.

‘Thanks. It smells lush. What are you doing today?’

Dad popped an extra spoonful of egg on to my toast and sat back in the chair.

‘I’m going down the taxi office to see if I can get any more hours. I reckon I could get an extra ten hours if I did some weekend shifts’.

‘You don’t like working weekends, though. What about all the drunks that want taking home?’

‘Ah, I’ll be fine. As long as they don’t throw up in my car. Anyway, what did the letter say? They deserve to give you a good pay out as you’ve been there since you left school’.

I looked at the unopened letter on the table. Once I open it, it becomes real and I’m jobless. I have worked there for ten years, so it might be a good amount’.

I ripped open the letter and read the first couple of lines. Standard company procedure guff full of fake apologies. I scroll down to the bottom. Statutory redundancy payment. £2500. Shit.

‘Well? What does it say?’ asked dad, with egg on his chin.

£2500. That’s not going to go very far. I already knew what I wanted to spend some of that on, and the rest could go towards bills until I find another job.

‘Don’t keep me hanging, son. Did they pay you well?’

‘Not great. I got two grand’.

Dad almost choked on his toast.

‘Two bloody grand? For ten years service? That’s bloody disgusting. Are you sure?’

‘Apparently it’s because the new company have offered us a job, but it would mean driving to Bristol every day’.

‘That would be a three-hour commute. Can’t believe the bastards only gave you two grand. I’ve a good mind to go over there and have a word with them’.

‘No, it’s fine dad, don’t worry. It’s enough money to cover bills for the next month, and I’m heading to the agency now to see what work they have’.

‘I still think they are screwing you over. Oh, can you pick me up a pack of beer on your way home?’

My heart sank. Dad always went back on the booze or drugs if things got hard, but I’d rather he drank beer at home than going out to the pub and getting drugs off some dealer.

‘Ok, I’ll pick some up. Don’t worry though, we’ll be ok’.

The sun was already pretty warm as I left the house to go up town, and dad was on his first taxi job. As I approached the High St, I paused outside Hanks music shop. I’ve walked past the shop every day for the past ten years. I’d look at the array of guitars that are hanging from the wall; all of them glistening in the sun. There was one instrument in there that I always wanted to play. A drum kit. I’d never played one before, but every time I walked past the shop, I was drawn to whatever kit they had in the window that day. I’d spent the last ten years ‘air drumming’ to Nicko McBrain of Iron Maiden, my all-time favourite band. I’d never asked dad to buy me a kit, and we didn’t have the room anyway, but I’d always fancied having a go on one. As I scoured my eyes around Hanks window, I spotted a new drum kit sat in the corner. It was cherry red, with some gorgeous chrome detailing. It looked stunning.

‘Andy Packham, you prick’.

I turned around to see big Nige running towards me.

‘Christ, you scared me half to death’.

‘Ha, sorry pal. Did you get your letter this morning? Two and half grand for nine years’ service. What a bunch of twats. What you doing here? You going to blow your money on a guitar?’

‘No. A drum kit’.

I walked into the shop without thinking.

‘Morning young man, how can I help you?’

Hank, the store owner was sat at the counter. His thick American drawl still present after twenty years in Somerset.

‘Um, I just wanted to have a look at the red drum kit you have in the corner’.

Hank looked over his thin glasses towards the kit