A short post I may expand on later just to get things up to date. Slayer owned Download and I’m still bruised with a very, very sore right thumb from the ‘pit. Ozzy Osbourne is like your grandad on stage. Almost embarassing to see, but you can’t help but love him and hope he’s there for many more years to come.

We finished off the beer we bought so I was somewhat tiddly while answering emails on the festival site. Hope I didn’t offend anyone!

The cybercafe here in Brussels is three Euros an hour and I’ve been on for almost three hours getting up to date. Apologies for any bad spelling in the recent posts. I’ve been rushing, and the keyboard is an AZERTY one that I’ve set up as QWERTY so things aren’t where they’re labelled.

Just off for a burger and my bus to Frankfurt!

Yes, I know this post is late and I’ve already put some of the details on the other posts, but it’s here and it’s staying so there.

Today was a busy day bandwise with a lot of performances to see. We popped in briefly to see Chimaira before running into town to grab a sandwich and some posh chocs from the same shop as yesterday. Bizarrely while we were in there a TV news crew filmed us. So if anyone in Belgium happens to see a guy in a Newcastle strip blowing money on some delicious chocolates…

Back at the festival, we rocked through the following:

Black Label Society, Children of Bodom, El Guapo Stuntteam, Moonsorrow, Cynic, Hammerfall, Slayer and Ozzy Osbourne. Zakk Wylde played with both his own BLS band and as the lead guitarist with Ozzy.

As I said in the other post (almost, but I’ll get it right this time), Slayer owned Graspop. Best band of the weekend in my opinion. Ozzy looked like he was about to collapse but still belted out the classics including Sabbath songs “Paranoid” and “War Pigs”.

Other high points of the day included torrential rain turning the field in to a mudpit. Not on the scale of Glastonbury, I’m sure, but messy enough! Two guys had managed to roll up a huge plastic sheet were using it as a skipping rope for anyone to join in. Until they got bored, moved it really quickly and tripped them up.

The Coca Cola emergency squad people (good looking guys and stunning women in doctor/nurse outfits) were doing the rounds, giving free massages and shaving heads. As I’d forgotten to pack any AA batteries for my clippers, I took advantage and had two very attractive young ladies strim my noggin for free. I also got a very nice photograph up one of the staff’s skirts. A kind young lady nearby volunteered to do it for me as I was more likely to get punched in the face if I was caught.

Ozzy finished around half past midnight and we staggered back to the tent and crashed out. I actually had to remove my mud-encrudted top for the first time all weekend after a somewhat muddy English guy who’d been sliding around in the muck gave me a huge hug!

All thoughts of sorting the luggage for an easy start in the morning vanished with exhaustion.

The campsite was moderately subdued overnight so sleep was quite easy though Marina said she was kept awake giggling by a belching competition. I have earplugs – no such problem. We woke – again – later than we expected to and walked into town to do some grocery shopping (read “to buy some beer”).

The little supermarket we found was full of friendly staff along with said beer, but devoid of trolleys. They were all parked outside out canpsite having been used to ferry other people’s supplies back the previous day. The shop didn’t seem to care. They’d get them all back on Monday, and in the meantime their takings for the weekend would likely top those for the rest of the month.

On the way back we stopped off for a huge sandwich and some delicious bakery things. Marina got a coffee from three little girls sat on the street side. Their sign said “free gratis gratuit” but they had a little dish sat there for “donations”. They were doing a roaring trade, I’m glad to say.

Festival time again once we’d sampled the Jupiler and today we worked through Lamb of God, Stone Sour, Heaven & Hell, Cannibal Corpse, Drowning Pool, Korn, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes and the mighty Iron Maiden who’d brought the entire stage show from Download with them. Nobody looks at home with their foot planted on a monitor cabinet as Steve Harris, and Maiden played a blinding set.

Before Me First, we met up with Patricia who I’d got talking to on the message boards regarding the ludicrous “no free drinking water” policy… which we managed to overturn this year for the first time. She’s a local and works the festival every year in one of the beer tents. In exchange for one day’s work she gets into the other two for free.

We got some more Graspop information from her as well. As a metal festival it’s been going for 12 years though it was a more mainstream event before then. Like Download, it started as a 1-day event before growing to two and then three days. It hires predominantly local staff, mostly unpaid on the basis Patricia was working. Residents of the street where the camping and festival entrance are located get free entry as. In addition, many open their gardens and garages to the public, playing loud music and serving cheap food – which the festival organisers ask them not to, but can’t stop.

Each year Graspop donates a slice of the takings to the local community. A disabled fund, or a kids’ centre or something. Its this kind of give/take relationship I just don’t think would happen in the UK. Too many people would rather spend their time writing to the Daily Mail about the “horrible long haired weirdos destrouying our neighbourhood every year” rather than looking at the positives. Someone always complains about Leeds Festival.

Oh, and I’m reliably informed that there is never any reported trouble around Graspop. The Red Cross do their bit for the drunks, but the police never have to do anything than attend. Unlike the more mainstream festival nearby a week later where there is always trouble.

The walk back to camp was a bit of a nightmare with congestion where there shouldn’t have been any and none where there should. All very strange. The campsite was livelier than it had been the night before, but exhaustion won out. Despite our Belgian neighbours yelling “Cavaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?!” (how are you?) in a death metal grunt to everyone who walked past, I was out as soon as my head hit the inflatable pillow.

We set off later in the morning than we’d planned, after sorting luggage, ourselves and redownloading the Graspop tickets due to a cockup with their dreadful e-ticketing system. Our thanks to the nice man on reception who let us do this for nothing as the provided PCs wouldn’t allow us to view PDF files.

Postcards were despatched from the train station before we jumped onto the 10:44 for Antwerp with a handful of other people with long hair and black t-shirts. As we approached Antwerp a very kind businessman (who looked very out of place in the growing crowd) made sure we got off at the correct stop and got us to the right platform for the train to Mol. Our guide stood out as the only person not wearing a black t-shirt, leather or a corset. Unless there was something seriously weird going on under that starched shirt.

Platform 8 was mobbed with metalheads heading for Mol. Somehow we all managed to cram on board the train when it arrived, though it was standing room only. There were no complaints from the tannoy, guards, driver or other passengers. An hour later we were deposited at Mol where we decided to avoid the bus queue for the moment and go and find lunch elsewhere. A walk into town located a lovely bar with some cheap and filling pizza (and great beer). The schoolkids around us (I’d not put any of them older than 16 despite the, presumably legal, beers they were supping on) took one look at us and started talking about it being the Graspop time of year again. Which makes a change from “bloody tourists”, something I just don’t think Belgians are ever likely to say. They’re far too nice!

We then walked back to the station for the free bendy bus to Dessel and the festival itself. After a ridiculously long walk in the wrong direction to swap our e-ticket for a real one (round trip around 1.5km and utterly pointless if it was organised properly) we got into the camp site and found a spot conveniently near the beer tent, facilities and festival entry/exit. Before the rain got too heavy, we got the tent up and unpacked what we needed.

Some Belgian guys camped next to us insisted we have some beer. It would have been rude to refuse so we toasted out new neighbours. Jupiler seems to be the local version of Fosters or Special Brew. It’s what you drink if you want very cheap beer and to get drunk. Only it tasted far better than the British or Aussie equivalent.

Without much further ady we walked the short distance to the festival ground itself to catch Papa Roach, Jo Satriani and Aerosmith with a few others to fill in the gaps. We also had a walk into town to get a very good (and very cheap) burger rather than get ripped off at the festival tents.

Aerosmith were everything they were meant to be, though Steve Tyler seemed knackered right from the start. As a result he did better on the ballads than the rockier numbers where he was missing words all over the place. Still, a hell of a set with virtually every one a classic from opener Love in an Elevator to closer Walk this Way.

We slept well that night as we didn’t get back to the tent until after 2am. European festivals have a much later curfew (or none at all) compared to their British cousins.