Thought I’d wear a trilby hat cos the temperature had dipped and it’s said that 30-40% of your body heat can be lost through your head, not sure how true that is but I definitely feel warmer with headwear, especially when it’s been loaned to me by a warm hearted friend…
So I head into town in my green parka and said trilby (with personalised gold band which then happened to make me look a bit like a smooth criminal) and I hadn’t even made it into the pub before being affectionately ridiculed for looking something like the aforementioned smooth criminal… Admittedly the lager fuelled lad did do a fair mimic of the deceased Micky Jackson in my honour and i, deciding to have a bouncy night from the start, went along with it and flicked my heels and busted a couple of moves for him and his pal’s entertainment..
I click my heels and whisk into the pub, which, as always on a friday night, is booming.. I head straight for the bar and yeah i’m getting a few looks, the trilby certainly seems to draw favour, coupled with my blue n pink hair bobbing out the base of the hatline … i’m wanting a whiskey and ask the barmaid for a Glen Moray, they don’t have, so i asks for a Famous Grouse, they don’t have that either… they hands me a list of the scotch they have so i go for johnny walker but hey, they’re all out of that … i’ll have a G&T then … so the barmaid asks which type of Gin i’d like… i think my look from beneath the rim of my hat just about gave her the answer ….
Anyway, i’m in the pub to meet an ex-band member mate so we can catch up on some lost time. All starts well but i cant help sense that i no longer feel the same way about this person, there’s too much water passed under our bridges and i’m left realising that our relationship is really teetering … Weirdly enough we move on to another pub and then one more, we have crossed words, then make up, have one last pint together, sing a karaoke song each and then my wayward airhead mind steers me out of the ale house and i jog on quickly across town, on my own.
As i turn a corner there ahead of me is a good friend, busking out in the cool night air.. ‘can i do a couple’ i hear meself asking, ‘for sure, be my guest’ says the captain and he sits off for a smoke whilst i promptly cue mad world.. Get some coins thrown in, the acoustics on lord street absolutely amazing, felt like i was a superstar as my voice carried right on up the buildings and into the sky above the city.. One more song, played ‘tick tock’ by futurejack and relished every moment, thankful to the people who put their money into the captain’s pot whilst on their friday night out.
Says my goodbyes to the captain.
Ex band member, fuming.
I shouldn’t be getting off
Without saying goodbye.
Good goodbyes are always better left unsaid.
Moving swiftly on and i jump a bus out of town. Heading for Smithdown road, gonna meet a new friend who actually doesn’t show up but does ensure that i find my way to a wonderful little bar where the ratio of men to women has the best odds going. I know enough people in there and start having a ball. The band start playing their deep south rumba salsa swing thing and i keep on drinking…
I have a sweet spot for drummers, always have, always will i reckon.
And so, the band finish their set and the drummer is soon by my side and we’re getting on just fine, great little dancer he was too, swinging me about, making me laugh and smile. But then someone else comes in the room, someone i like a lot, a recent friend and then everything starts to change and the odds stack in my favour…
More drinking, more music, and the guys getting on the piano, striking out some grand tunes .. The atmosphere was boss..
The drummer offers me a hotel room with him for the night but my other mate, the dark haired talented lad, well i reckon he cast a spell on me, which is particularly good cos by now the drummer has lost me, as soon as he starts offering up some white line indulgence. My rule of thumb is, almost always, decline.
Suffice to say the rest of the night was brilliant and it carried on and spilt over into the next day and it carried on and t’was about 30 hours until i returned the said trilby to its rightful owner. It would easily have been on my head for another twelve hours had the talented lad not burst the spell and popped me out of my weekend bubble for ending up being just like the majority, preferring white lines to me..
My rule of thumb when it comes down to choice… almost always, decline.
So it all ended when, just about 2am when i left the bar and walked from smithdown road back to the other side of town … i freely admit i was feeling pretty flat, disappointed and let down, but i had to smile to myself and acknowledge and savour the fun i’d had, the golden hours i’d spent in between. Sometimes just got to bite the bullet, when White Lines Rule is best to know when to quit.
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