Friday February 4th - Paulmas Eve
The day began with me beating Steve downstairs. Once I'd got the feeling back in my legs I dressed rather abruptly and descended into the bar to find the (frankly saintly) Lisa humping furniture. I made black coffee because there was more chance of David Cameron getting dressed up as a woman and sending us all fifty quid each than there was of there being any milk in the fridge. If this is the first one of my blog's you've ever read then I understand if you stop immediately, decry me as a malcontent and a wordy charlatan and shuffle back to the knitting and political blogs that abound.
Today was Paulmas Eve so obviously we had to go to Booker's Cash & Carry to spend a couple of hundred quid on booze. We didn't go until I felt safe to drive (Well as safe as you can feel in Luton) and I would suggest that was around 1.30pm but don't hold me to that. I have never been to a Booker's before. They are immense and I wouldn't have minded perusing the endless isles of bulk-buy bargains but we were on something of a mission so just headed straight for the booze. It all looked incredibly cheap but in fact wasn't. Everything was priced up excluding VAT and although there were one or two bargains (namely six bottles of white wine for twelve quid including VAT, I didn't feel that the rum, vodka, gin, disarronno, Baileys, Declans (A Budget Baileys derivative bought for comedy value), said wine, a couple of bags of ice, two bottles of Rose and other oddments were particularly cheap for the hundred quid they cost me. I'm just glad we didn't fall for the red wine offer - it was six bottles for nine pounds but on (thankfully) Steve's closer inspection it was that 5% pretend wine that only idiots fall for by steamrolling the apparent bargain over the small print and getting home to be disappointed and embarrassed.
I dropped him off back at the pub (In time to open at 4pm - he's very civilised) and headed back to my flat. I carried out much needed ablutions and headed up to Sainsburys to get the booze I had turned down in Bookers. My trolley looked exceptionally impressive and (eventually) contained
30 bottles of French lager
12 cans of Guinness (original)
24 cans of John Smiths (Smooth)
An extra bottle of vodka (To be on the safe side)
6 bottles of red wine at an unbelievably bargain price that I could NOT turn down.
Various mixers including six litres of coke, two bottles of tonic water, eight litres of sparkling water and two litres of lemonade.
I unloaded it all in the flat and then got ready to go and do another gig with Rob and Sol, this time at the (slightly mental) every-other-month gig at The Ivy Leaf Club in Langford. Again - sorry - if you're reading this blog for the first time you are going to need to read the one before as it explains everything that I can't be bothered to in this one. It's here
It's only a short ride up the A1 to the gig and also involves one of my favourite road junctions in the world, called "Langford Turn". I have tried in vain to find a photo of it on the net. Sadly, however, if you type in "Langford Turn" to google images you get a couple of rubbish maps, Beth Langford in her 18th birthday sash, a marsh harrier in flight, a couple of headstones of dead people formerly called (Something) Langford, a gnome, a train and Bonnie Langford dressed as Peter Pan, presumably in panto somewhere. Here's Beth anyway
The day began with me beating Steve downstairs. Once I'd got the feeling back in my legs I dressed rather abruptly and descended into the bar to find the (frankly saintly) Lisa humping furniture. I made black coffee because there was more chance of David Cameron getting dressed up as a woman and sending us all fifty quid each than there was of there being any milk in the fridge. If this is the first one of my blog's you've ever read then I understand if you stop immediately, decry me as a malcontent and a wordy charlatan and shuffle back to the knitting and political blogs that abound.
Today was Paulmas Eve so obviously we had to go to Booker's Cash & Carry to spend a couple of hundred quid on booze. We didn't go until I felt safe to drive (Well as safe as you can feel in Luton) and I would suggest that was around 1.30pm but don't hold me to that. I have never been to a Booker's before. They are immense and I wouldn't have minded perusing the endless isles of bulk-buy bargains but we were on something of a mission so just headed straight for the booze. It all looked incredibly cheap but in fact wasn't. Everything was priced up excluding VAT and although there were one or two bargains (namely six bottles of white wine for twelve quid including VAT, I didn't feel that the rum, vodka, gin, disarronno, Baileys, Declans (A Budget Baileys derivative bought for comedy value), said wine, a couple of bags of ice, two bottles of Rose and other oddments were particularly cheap for the hundred quid they cost me. I'm just glad we didn't fall for the red wine offer - it was six bottles for nine pounds but on (thankfully) Steve's closer inspection it was that 5% pretend wine that only idiots fall for by steamrolling the apparent bargain over the small print and getting home to be disappointed and embarrassed.
I dropped him off back at the pub (In time to open at 4pm - he's very civilised) and headed back to my flat. I carried out much needed ablutions and headed up to Sainsburys to get the booze I had turned down in Bookers. My trolley looked exceptionally impressive and (eventually) contained
30 bottles of French lager
12 cans of Guinness (original)
24 cans of John Smiths (Smooth)
An extra bottle of vodka (To be on the safe side)
6 bottles of red wine at an unbelievably bargain price that I could NOT turn down.
Various mixers including six litres of coke, two bottles of tonic water, eight litres of sparkling water and two litres of lemonade.
I unloaded it all in the flat and then got ready to go and do another gig with Rob and Sol, this time at the (slightly mental) every-other-month gig at The Ivy Leaf Club in Langford. Again - sorry - if you're reading this blog for the first time you are going to need to read the one before as it explains everything that I can't be bothered to in this one. It's here
It's only a short ride up the A1 to the gig and also involves one of my favourite road junctions in the world, called "Langford Turn". I have tried in vain to find a photo of it on the net. Sadly, however, if you type in "Langford Turn" to google images you get a couple of rubbish maps, Beth Langford in her 18th birthday sash, a marsh harrier in flight, a couple of headstones of dead people formerly called (Something) Langford, a gnome, a train and Bonnie Langford dressed as Peter Pan, presumably in panto somewhere. Here's Beth anyway
 |
| Beth Langford celebrating her 18th birthday on A level results day. She's smiling so they must have gone OK. Well done Beth! I don't actually know Beth Langford but I am genuinely pleased for her. Negotiating Langford Turn was its usual joy and I got to the gig around 7.45pm delighted to find it already getting quite full and the women were once again massively outnumbering the men. The last two shows have been a little down on numbers and not even particularly well received frankly and, and, oh it doesn't matter look there were a load of people there who all had a throughly smashing time, Sol & Rob were both again on excellent form, I had one of those rare nights when people seemed to laugh at everything I said both on AND off stage and even the raffle was an overwhelming success, particularly the (donated) two free tickets to see (As Barry the gig organiser announced) The Beatles. I could have sworn they stopped performing live around 1965/6, disbanded completely around 1970 had suffered the sad losses of two key members and even if they did try and get back together it would effectively be as a drum & bass outfit yes Yes YES PUMPING OUT ELEANOR RIGBY TO THE JUNGLE MASSSSSSSSSSSSSSIVE. I suspect they were tickets to see a Beatles tribute act but hey - you never know in Langford. I got home around eleven and was in my local pub by about quarter past where I met up with Mick who runs the finest chip shop in the area, his drinking buddy Paul and a third man who occasionally drives them to see Brentford. We drank pints of ale because we are men. We stood around talking about football and women because we are men. Mick left at just gone midnight because his wife rang him and started moaning about something. Paul said he couldn't handle two nights in a row any more and so was staying in on Saturday night so he could get up early on Sunday to do some D.I.Y. Bloke-whose-name-escapes-me discussed, in detail, a recipe for fish. We did all this because we are men. I scoffed a JD & coke at last orders because I'm like that and walked home in incredibly high winds. Letchworth is not the literal translation of Fuerteventura, but on Friday night, it might as well have been. |
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.