Location, Location

As I expected, the Grand Junction gig was the last blues gig as the brewery are “cutting down on the music budget”. How this spokesperson (with such erudition) isn’t in politics, I’ll never know. “It ain’t working, sod off!” would have done the trick for me. There were a few more people there than for the last couple of weeks, but never enough to make it pay. However, I did almost enjoy the gig and we got paid once I’d produced the invoice like a rabbit out of a hat.

The staff were friendly and it’s a pity it didn’t work, but Thursday night in the middle of a desolate business park doesn’t cry “Juke Joint” for me. However, thanks go to T-Bone Taylor for getting them to try. I did not turn to drink for solace. Actually I hadn’t turned away from drink, so there was no solace to be had. Bumped into Jason, my web fixer, in the Metropolitan next door to Westbourne Park tube station. Had some sort of conversation despite the DJ’s best efforts. However, what a contrast to the Park Royal gig. Lots of drunken men and women dancing the night away. It’s obviously not just down to location though, because despite the energy, none of them could dance.

Now that’s where we should have been gigging. We’d have emptied the place in no time and ended up with the opportunity for quiet and profound conversation. Come to think of it, given some of Jason’s conversation, it might not have been so profound, but the drink would still have gone down well. And so to Easter and beyond. It’s the start of the turf flat racing season, and what a start. I’ll have to give up all thoughts of retirement if the nags keep running the way they are, or not running in most cases. They allowed bookies to open on Good Friday for the first time. Unfortunately there was no British racing on, but, hey, it’s what they call progress. I had a great day – I didn’t have a bet.

Unfortunately the rest of the weekend wasn’t so profitable (I regard not backing a loser as profitable). Also had a drink with my next-door-neighbour and although the goodnight kisses were over the top (well one has to do one’s duty, chaps) I did agree to feed her cat the following day. Who says London is a place where nobody knows their neighbours. As a matter of fact, the cat was very pleased to see me. Now for some human contact, oh good, the pub’s open.