Queen Unseen by Peter Hince Read Free Book Online Page A

club, bar or party. Some women like the smell of a working man – so I’m told.
    Pheromones or something.
    Queen often played multiple shows at venues, which gave us opportunity for a night out – after a night’s work. Once the gear had been shut down and everything secured and locked away, we would go to the band’s dressing room, as they would usually be there winding down. Apart from getting some free quality booze, and a post-show snack, maybe, it was also an opportunity to chat directly about any aspects of the show.
    Depending on where we playing, there would be invited guests in the dressing room after the show, but never many. My mum and dad would attend shows on UK tours, usually in the Midlands or west of England areas. At the NEC Arena in Birmingham, I took my parents into the dressing room, where Fred was still lounging in his dressing gown. He immediately made a huge fuss of my mum, and sat her on his knee, asking all about her and what she had been doing. Despite not having a large family, Fred was very family orientated, and involved himself with other people’s relatives with genuine enthusiasm. My dad sat outside the dressing room on some steps with John Deacon, chatting like two regular blokes – cans of beer in their hands. Brian and Roger also warmly welcomed my parents, recognising and remembering them when they arrived.
    Mum would often embarrass me by bringing food to shows for me.
    â€˜Mum – they do feed us, you know.’
    â€˜You look very pale – and so thin’
    â€˜Well, it’s hard work – and I’m not thin – I’m lean – fit.’
    A popular homemade item were her jars of pickled onions, which Trip Khalaf, Queen’s American sound engineer, in particular loved.
    He always greeted her by saying, ‘Hello, Mrs Hince.’ Then he’d point at me and add, shaking his head, ‘What’s it like to be the most embarrassed woman in England?’
    She took it in good spirits.
    If, after the show, we were travelling overnight by bus, then there was time to wind down on board until the sound crew, with whom we travelled, were ready.
    Queen had normally vacated the dressing room at this point, so we would make that our first stop to see what scraps of food could be plundered.
    On early tours in the mid-’70s before we had our own caterers travelling with us, there was very little. The economic promoter had got his aide to clear the remaining food once the band had left – and it could be recycled the following day, no doubt the promoter charging full whack for it. The same aide had been critical of Queen’s crew, so we decided he needed to be taught a lesson. He had bought himself a smart white sports shirt and left it in the dressing room for safekeeping. It was hijacked, placed on the pavement outside Newcastle City Hall and set on fire with lighter fuel.
    When he asked if anybody had seen his prized new purchase, he was handed a set of Polaroids showing the shirt ablaze and final charred remains. He left us some cheese and biscuits every night after that.
    In Europe, we could always raid the catering area, where ‘trough time’, the evening meal, was served by our regular tour caterers: Toad In The Hole of Barry Wales. Barry Wales? Not a comic character but the small seaside town of Barry Island in South Wales where the unlikely outfit all lived. Now I realise that St David is the patron saint of Wales, but are all the male inhabitants named after him? The company owner was Dave Keeble and his regular cooks were Dave Thomas and Dave Lewis. These three were collectively and affectionately known as ‘Dave, Dave and Dave’. As Queen tours got larger, they took an extra cook out with them called Steve, and they became: ‘Dave, Dave, Dave and not Dave!’
    This Welsh quartet – also known as The Taffia, Stomach Saboteurs and Culinary Criminals – prepared generally hearty