"Where the fear and the four winds blow,
That’s where I’m headed now."
And so darkness fell. And an acrid mist did rise. Through the glooming comes a pulse of light. Indistinct silhouettes. An incessant pounding. A mordant wailing. Welcome to Ghost Dance (featuring ex-members of the Sisters and Skeletal Family) at the Kilburn Town & Country Club (now the HMV Forum, kids).
Little did we know at the time that these same conditions were being replicated on the late-October streets outside – with perhaps a little less wailing. Though only a little less. Stepping out of the uncomfortably sweaty gig in to the bitter cold midnight air, we discovered North London had been shrouded in a thick mist. It really was like something out of a Stephen King tale. Specifically, ‘The Mist’. In fact, you could see next to nothing, which would make it more like a fog. The kind of creeping, suffocating haze you’d get in a horror movie. Specifically, ‘The Fog’.
Somehow we had to drive home through this. I say ‘we' but my friend Chris was doing the actual driving (in his trusty Mini). My job was to stick my head out of the window and see if I could read any of the road signs. Or spot any other cars before we hit them. It was a tortuously slow and highly treacherous journey – long before the days of sat navs and even mobile phones. And worried parents were waiting up at home. But we finally made it back to our pleasant Surrey suburb, without landing in a ditch or encountering the vengeful ghosts of shipwrecked Californian mariners. We were just sleep-deprived, nervous wrecks in school assembly the next day.