As the last (and first) edition of ALAN shuddered to a halt in August, we were about to embark on a hectic period of promotion, gigging and recording in pursuit of the ever elusive record deal that will ultimately propel RUTH into the stars. At the time our management were still seeking a deal to release 'Fear of flying' to go with the MTV advert. The idea was to do the Greenbelt Festival to raise our profile a bit and to get our performance polished, and then arrange some showcase gigs in London for those record companies who had shown most interest in us.

So we did.

The Greenbelt excursion was preceded by one of the most excruciatingly busy weekends ever experienced by RUTH or possibly anyone else. On the Saturday morning, Ben and I moved house, from Torquay where we had spent the summer, to Brockley in South London. As soon as we had unloaded the car and said hi to Andy our new house mate, we got back in the trusty Volvo and drove to Eastbourne where RUTH were appearing in the finals of a Battle of the Bands competition.

We rehearsed all afternoon then did a rather magnificent set, went down a storm, had our guitar tuner stolen by a ska band, packed up the gear again and drove back to South London. Most people would have felt that there day was pretty much filled after that, and gone to bed for a couple of years, but no, RUTH stops for nothing, not even life-threatening driver fatigue. We picked up Andy (our roadie and technician for the duration of Greenbelt) and drove to Northampton, arrived at Steve's dad's house at about 4.30 am and collapsed.

Got up, got out of bed, drove to Greenbelt, got exciting Greenbelt wristy pass things and drove to "The Bunker" merchandising tent, site of our first show of the festival. The sun was shining bright and wherever one looked there were bronzed 'Belters with lengthy dreads and sparse beards - for Greenbelt 93 was Young Crusty country and small outbreaks of spontaneous folk music and folk sunbathing. We unloaded the RUTHmobile and set up for the gig. Later we played some pop tunes through a poor PA and people drew near, hypnotised by the sublime sound of our tender voices being strained through broken speakers, and were entertained. This was just a relaxed warm up type gig designed to sell RUTHStuff and advertise our main gig on Monday afternoon on the medium sized Spectrum stage - it was most pleasant.

For the rest of the afternoon we strolled around the festival enjoying various musics but feeling a little conspicuous with our clean-shaven chins and our comb-able hair. However, after visit to the latrines for a traditional festival toilet experience (wet poo, no paper) we all felt a lot more crusty and at home.

In the evening-time we did an acoustic version of "Good Luck" live on Radio Greenbelt, and a brief but stupendous interview. We then spent the rest of the evening wearing posters on our backs advertising the BIG GIG of the morrow. There really were a surprising number of people called Ruth there. Then bed, though not for long enough. Monday was bright and clear and we were the tiredest boys in the world, but that's rock and also roll.

Got special backstage wristy passes and drove to the Spectrum stage. We did some last minute running around with RUTH posters on our backs, then played the BIG GIG to a wild, hairy and satisfyingly substantial crowd. Then immediately played another short set for Radio Greenbelt from the Bandstand. Fatigue was reaching dangerous levels so we went to sleep.

As the sun began to set on the final evening of "the Belt" there was just time to see an extraordinarily shit American woman with a whiny voice and terrible affected girliness, play another mellow set at The Bunker, sell some stuff and drive home to London, brown, bristly, dirty, smelly, happy, sad and perhaps.

You may feel that I lost enthusiasm at some point during its' writing. Well, you're right. But who wants to liver forever anyway? I've just typed "liver". Good Bye. (MH)