Harmonica and Suncream
So it’s now Thursday. Thursday the fourteenth of July. Rosanne sets off to The Glade in the morning. Me and Andy and Alice go out for coffee at the Dumb Waiter, where we hear about what the devil’s been going on in Australia whilst he’s been there. All very cosmopolitan for a passportless Albanian like myself. Andy wants to see everyone, so we call around and arrange to meet as many people as we can get in touch with at the Albert. This works really well, and it’s lovely once again to see everyone together. Fine ales and reunions. After the Albert closes me, Andy, Anna, Nicky P and Tom (and maybe some others. I can’t remember) return to our house to drink homebrew. Andy hates it, naturally, but it seems to go down quite well with everyone else. Andy and Nick leave, Tom goes to bed, and me and Anna drink homebrew and rant at each other for hours.
Everyone seems to be setting off to The Glade on Friday. During the day, me and Andy wander into town to run his errands. We go back to Quayfil House and go and look at Nick’s old room. He throws a load of mothballs about and finds some of his CDs. He is foiled in everything else he tries to do that day. As we are standing outside Elizabeth’s door she comes out of it, which is probably quite a surprising experience for her. We try to persuade her to come to The Bake, which is Jarvis’s 10 piece funk band playing at the Pressure Point. She says she will consider it. Then we go off so Andy can buy some shoes but fail to do so. We bump into Jacob with his sisters and cousin talking to Elizabeth in the Lanes. So we go to sit on the beach for a bit. Andy throws stones at me. I go to work. A very quiet shift. Anna pops in with her bag, about to set off Gladewards. I pour pints of ale. Seamus leaps about like a small hyperactive child in the body of a large Irishman.
As I take a cigarette break, Andy and Jacob’s cousin (Shona?) burst into the pub waving cans of beer and grab me, dragging me out of the pub and down the street. “You’ve got to come to The Bake with us now!”. “I can’t! I’m at work!”. They rant at me for a bit, generally concerning issues of Capital Pun-ishment. They forget that I’m the man with the golden pun, and so out-draw them from all angles. Or something along those lines.
After work, I run down the hill to the Pressure Point, where The Bake is taking place. The Bake, as Tommy puts it, is my monthly ‘Drink a whole bottle of gin’ time. This is a bad habit that I would not advise getting into. However, tradition being what it is, I drink a whole bottle of Gin, and we dance to Big Daddy Moochin’ getting into the groove of things. Funk without irony, blatantly the way forwards for music. As they say (in a deep growling voice) “Can you feel the funk?”
Ollie Gimp is there, which is cool, as are Jacob and sisters and cousin, Andy, the Cornish, Dom.. indeed, lots and lots of people. I spaz out a bit, I think, and poor Nicky P bears the brunt of it. We go outside after the club finishes. Andy actually goes a bit crazy and him and Joff are having this ridiculous fight on the floor. It’s all fun and games but they do seem to be inflicting severe pain on each other. Andy picks up Joff and throws him over some railings into a street, where he gets up, and throws himself back over, smashing right into Andy. Daniel Taylor, once again the voice of reason, has filled me in on what went on, because apparently at this point I was playing my harmonica to four random girls in an attempt to get them to to come to Phone Mast Dave’s launch party on Tuesday. (more about this to come). “What happened next?”, I asked Daniel. “Well, these four girls were dancing about as you played the harmonica. And then you got some suncream out of your bag and covered them in it.” I did? Dear god.
We make our slow and eventful way up the hill to Jed’s house. I think Andy tried to steal a digger. That boy is out of control sometimes. Eventually we get to Jed’s house. I walk in, crawl under the kitchen table, put my bag on the floor as a pillow, and go to sleep. Apparently Nick and Ollie eat a load of salami. I have no idea. I just sleep under the table. Joff makes a bed on the living room floor from cushions, and then, in the absence of covers, throws a load of old rags on me. I sleep under the rags.
Everyone seems to be setting off to The Glade on Friday. During the day, me and Andy wander into town to run his errands. We go back to Quayfil House and go and look at Nick’s old room. He throws a load of mothballs about and finds some of his CDs. He is foiled in everything else he tries to do that day. As we are standing outside Elizabeth’s door she comes out of it, which is probably quite a surprising experience for her. We try to persuade her to come to The Bake, which is Jarvis’s 10 piece funk band playing at the Pressure Point. She says she will consider it. Then we go off so Andy can buy some shoes but fail to do so. We bump into Jacob with his sisters and cousin talking to Elizabeth in the Lanes. So we go to sit on the beach for a bit. Andy throws stones at me. I go to work. A very quiet shift. Anna pops in with her bag, about to set off Gladewards. I pour pints of ale. Seamus leaps about like a small hyperactive child in the body of a large Irishman.
As I take a cigarette break, Andy and Jacob’s cousin (Shona?) burst into the pub waving cans of beer and grab me, dragging me out of the pub and down the street. “You’ve got to come to The Bake with us now!”. “I can’t! I’m at work!”. They rant at me for a bit, generally concerning issues of Capital Pun-ishment. They forget that I’m the man with the golden pun, and so out-draw them from all angles. Or something along those lines.
After work, I run down the hill to the Pressure Point, where The Bake is taking place. The Bake, as Tommy puts it, is my monthly ‘Drink a whole bottle of gin’ time. This is a bad habit that I would not advise getting into. However, tradition being what it is, I drink a whole bottle of Gin, and we dance to Big Daddy Moochin’ getting into the groove of things. Funk without irony, blatantly the way forwards for music. As they say (in a deep growling voice) “Can you feel the funk?”
Ollie Gimp is there, which is cool, as are Jacob and sisters and cousin, Andy, the Cornish, Dom.. indeed, lots and lots of people. I spaz out a bit, I think, and poor Nicky P bears the brunt of it. We go outside after the club finishes. Andy actually goes a bit crazy and him and Joff are having this ridiculous fight on the floor. It’s all fun and games but they do seem to be inflicting severe pain on each other. Andy picks up Joff and throws him over some railings into a street, where he gets up, and throws himself back over, smashing right into Andy. Daniel Taylor, once again the voice of reason, has filled me in on what went on, because apparently at this point I was playing my harmonica to four random girls in an attempt to get them to to come to Phone Mast Dave’s launch party on Tuesday. (more about this to come). “What happened next?”, I asked Daniel. “Well, these four girls were dancing about as you played the harmonica. And then you got some suncream out of your bag and covered them in it.” I did? Dear god.
We make our slow and eventful way up the hill to Jed’s house. I think Andy tried to steal a digger. That boy is out of control sometimes. Eventually we get to Jed’s house. I walk in, crawl under the kitchen table, put my bag on the floor as a pillow, and go to sleep. Apparently Nick and Ollie eat a load of salami. I have no idea. I just sleep under the table. Joff makes a bed on the living room floor from cushions, and then, in the absence of covers, throws a load of old rags on me. I sleep under the rags.
posted by Rufus Moonshine at 8:21 AM
1 Comments:
exquisite
just beautiful
i was almost in tears
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