After this, more beer was drunk. Nick then showed everyone, via his own acting, what had happened at Grays the previous night. Bromley had lost 5 - 0, and Nick illustrated every goal by kicking out, sliding, diving or rolling on the tarmac with his imaginary ball. It was hilarious. His act was halted by the old people opposite the club, who’d called the police about the noise. We were all shuffled back inside, where we drank even more until tiredness kicked in, and we went for a good night’s sleep after another visit to the friterie. Interestingly, to gain access to our rooms we had a front door key which lead us directly into the bar, then up the back stairs to our rooms. I doubt if there is anywhere in England where they would give you the keys to the front door of their establishment, and trust you to walk in, lock the door, not take anything from the bar, and go up the back stairs to your room.

Waking up in a sunken bed after numerous beers the previous evening was very interesting. Breakfast was both welcome and lovely, the usual spread of rolls, croissants, cheese, ham, jam, honey and coffee. It was market day, so after leaving we strolled through the market then back past the "beer cocktails" place and on to the station. We had to get to Maastricht in Holland, which involved a train south east, then a train north. The guy at the station said to get a bus, which went due east across the border direct. After finding the bus stop and getting some Cokes, we caught the bus. It took just under an hour and cost less than £2. Belgium as a country was rising very quickly in my estimation.

From Maastricht, we caught the train to Tilburg. In Tilburg, at the station, they had a little display case with information about the venue and the gig that night. Sadly, their map proved on little use, as we spent 45 minutes walking round the town centre before going back to the station again. We had stopped for some chips and stuff out of the little doors in the wall which are so popular in Holland, but Nick had been blanked by the girl serving so steamed out swearing. I have to admit to feeling pretty guilty stuffing my face with my brother whilst Nick fumed on the corner, but I was starving! He later told us he’d seen Alison stroll by amongst the shoppers. Anyway, after a second glance at the map, we had a better idea of where we needed to go, but the heavens opened so we had to shelter. Luckily, our route to the venue placed us amongst some nice bars, where, naturally, we had to stop. I had phoned my friend, Joey, who was driving down from work to meet us for the show, then take us to his place to stay overnight. After a few beers we went back to the station to meet him, dump our stuff in his car, then go back for some more beers before going to the venue. the contrast from last night could not have been greater. A huge purpose built venue, the 013 (the telephone code for Tilburg), with three or four different halls of varying size. There were probably about 150 in the one the gig was at, and the stage was neat and the PA was great. The DJ played loads of cool stuff too, which made everything perfect...oh, the bands got loads of tokens for drinks, which they kept giving to me, and we kept drinking that lovely white beer all night long. Yum. The show itself was predictably great, and Chuck had asked me to get him a couple of beers halfway through which I promptly did. I was at the bar all the time, and afterwards too. With all those tokens to use, what else could I do? I then discovered bigger glasses, so kept filling those with double the tokens. As Burkhard from Green Hell in Germany (tour booker) was not going to be selling his stuff in Ieper, and we wouldn’t see him again (or so we thought) we bought some stuff from him for "special Bromley price". You need to ask him about his pleas to "stop the tour" (which has since become a quality catchphrase), as it involves a young American lady, and also his hatred for Ollie Kahn. E-mail him at Green Hell and tell him the Bromley boys sent you. Lastly we went down into the complex with HWM and sat in the dressing room for a while drinking a bit more and laughing a lot more, and before we left (with some beers in our pockets) we were shown round the whole of the impressive complex by one of the workers.