Here I am, stuck at home, not going to see The Band of Holy Joy at the Rhythm Factory; Katy will be there and so will lots of other people that I know, and so should I be too; instead I am welded to this chair with a large cup of tea, imprisoned in my home by circumstance. Bitter? Not I. Jaded? A trifle. Bored? You bet!
I imagine... walking to the tube station, listening to Destiny's Child on my iPod, whack the oyster card on to the reader, get on the tube, read the leftover Saturday papers, change to the District and Circle, get off at that station that isn't Whitechapel but should be (you know the one I mean, it's right next to the Whitechapel Art Gallery), along to the Rhythm Factory (further than I imagined), go into the venue, get one of those pale beers with a lime piece squeezed in the top, suss out the FQ (friend quotient), get excited, there's Johny, there's the other bloke I used to know from Geordieland who told me all about his sister using a sunbed (he did, honest). Listen to their songs (I've got lots of their stuff on vinyl), they are even better than they used to be in the old days, yay yay more more clap clap that was GOOD! Walk back to the tube station, whole thing in reverse, feet sticky from beer on floor, a bit deaf from loud music, lots of drunk people on the tube all laughing at each other because they think all the other people are drunker than they are. Usually, someone has thrown up on the floor by the time we get to East Finchley. (Once, that person was me, but it was gastro-enteritis not booze and a kind lady gave me a paper hanky).
Walk back home and write a review of the gig in my blog.....
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