A morning tweet alerted me to the fact that The Three Belles were playing a free set at 1700 in the BBC Pink Tent on the BBC site at Potter Row. Having been blown away by them the previous night, and not having anything scheduled until the evening, I was rather pleased to see The Belles for the second time in 18 hours. And yes, I was thinking it was a chance to redeem myself after my bottle so spectacularly crashing the previous night.
The venue is, quite literally, an open pink tent. Potter Row is the BBC's HQ for the Festival and the outside is free to enter (there's a second much bigger tent on-site where the radio and TV broadcasts and ticketed events are held). IMPORTANT NOTE - the Pink Tent is somewhat open to the elements; this is a pertinent detail for later.
Anyway, I got there about 40 minutes before the girls were due on, bought a pint and settled down (seat in front row of course). There was a nice old couple sitting next to me and we exchanged some polite small talk. All very pleasant.
The Belles arrived about 15 minutes before the start with a BBC runner. They milled around the stage chatting to various families who came up to them, especially wee girls who were fascinated with the Belles' 40s outfits. I remained apart and aloof, partly because I was terrified and partly because the last thing any act would want before they were due on-stage would be me looming up over them and clumsily introducing himself.
A bunch of mostly well-behaved small children plonked themselves in front of the stage and we were off.
The Belles were, need I say, marvellous with beautiful voices, superb harmonies, great engaging stage personalities, nice banter with the audience ... and, of course, looking sensational helps. They played a half hour set with eight songs - two more than the previous night (additions were "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" and "Hold Tight (Want Some Seafood Mama)" which I always thought was absolutely dripping in innuendo but no, apparently it IS about fish). The girls have also added some dance steps to their repertoire since last year, including some nifty 20s flapper footwork.
All too soon the gig was up. The girls had brought some CDs and I fully intended this time to introduce myself, buy a couple, ask them to sign them and get that elusve selfie. However this time it wasn't my bottle that crashed. Remember the mention earlier of how open to the elements the tent was ... well, my Raynaud's had kicked in half-way through IN THE MIDDLE OF BLOODY AUGUST. I could barely get my fingers to open a pocket, let alone fumble out a wallet and hand over cash (and as for shaking hands I didn't want to give the poor girls hypothermia). So I concluded I had to get indoors fast and made my exit. Which was a real shame as I did want to meet them. Hey ho, maybe next year. They gig mostly around the south of England so you should go and see them if you can - they're fab.
Finally, after their first song the nice old woman noticed my enthusiastic applause, leaned over and asked, "Is one of them your girlfriend?". I was taken aback and assumed she was taking the piss, but she seemed sincere. Clearly senile, poor auld dear. "No," I replied. "I wish ..." I posted that wee anecdote last night as I was amused by it and received two wonderful responses. Eric Spencer suggested at least she didn't ask, "Is one of them your daughter?". But Gordon MacDonald won the internet with his suggestion of how I should've replied - Mikey pauses, takes a sip of his beer and looks her in the eye, "No ma'am, they all are."
The Big Pink Tent at the BBC Festival Site at Potter Row. It is aptly named ...
*squeal* It's the Belles! Literally within touching distance ...
The girls doing their thing.
And still doing their thing.
The BBC runner accompanying the girls was sporting a natty line in elbow-patched tweed jackets.
Dorothy is not looking angrily at me. Oh no ...
The girls having a pre-gig conflab.
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