Dr John sang it and I lived it, in a modest way, last night on the tear in Belfast. D, R, Y and I started chucking down the frothy stuff about 5.30 pm in the Speakeasy bar. Sharps for me, Guinness for them. I was in no mood for a slow pint.
Some banter, verbiage and quality rubbish was talked by four guys who knew stuff (interspersed with some serious moments discussing music). I got a pass for the evening from my better half and let rip.
At one point I read three of my odes to my companions ( ode to a lettuce, blocked and innuendo). They seemed to like them – me too. R had been prevented from getting his train by some incident. A fortuitous event for us, because R is not only dead on and a laugh, but also a fellow writer.
Y had gone beyond the one or two and got a call from his chauffeur, so after necking his pint, he was on his way to shop for a keyboard.
D spends ten quid a month on Spotify, R get his music by a subscription to something or other and I buy CDs from charity shops. I had bought Robbie Williams’ Escapology, Scissor Sisters’ TA – DAH, a colliery brass band’s album and another CD – all for a pound.
The reason I was in the charity shop that morning was because I had left home in a hurry, unable to find my trousers or black shoes. The shoes I bought for five quid had a parade ground polish and pinched a bit, but were more appropriate for work than the Jesus sandals I had been wearing. I needed something to hold my trousers up. They didn’t have a black belt, so foolishly I invested £1.50 in a pair of striped braces.
I also bought some jewellery and the whole lot came to a tenner. The trousers stayed up without assistance and my look did not frighten the horses.
There were burgers, chips and then we popped into the Crescent Arts Centre where I had wanted to get up on the Open Mic night and dazzle people with my wit. Luckily the place was packed. We stayed for a while drank some tinned Guinness and, after determining that I was not able to put my name in the hat to potentially read, left. we called it a night. R rushed for his train, D rushed for his bus and I tried not to fall asleep waiting for my train.
I know that does not compare with say a McNulty night out (from the Wire). But the end result was similar. An inebriated male returned home and slept it off.
odespinner 