I’ve had an eventful few days recently. Last Saturday was a birthday party at the Inn on the Green for Tina the manageress. Gigi and I went and stayed till one o’clock and then walked home. We had almost arrived and were walking along the pavement arm in arm when a cyclist approached us from the other direction. For those who like stereotyping people, he was black and wearing a hood. For the more enlightened among you, read on…

As we were approaching one another it became obvious that we would probably meet at the very place where the pavement narrowed due to a  plane tree taking up part of the path. No he wasn’t speeding along aggressively, but I moved to one side to give him room and in the process fell ass-over-tit, dragging Gigi down with me. He immediately flung his bike to the ground and helped us to our feet. We thanked him and all continued on our way. So stereotype wrong, courtesy right.

On sober reflection, there could be another interpretation. It may have been that Gigi dragged me to the ground with the intention of ravishing me and the cyclist saved me  from the ordeal. Actually though I like to think that that is a reasonable explanation, it probably isn’t. Shame. Anyway, as things turned out later on in the week, that is never going to happen.

The next day was the regular gig at the Inn on the Green. It was quieter than usual, but it always is when the bar has been open until 4 a.m. the night before. We did a set, then took a break, during which time a bunch of southern rebels arrived. When we resumed, the dancing began and things were cooking. I have to say some of the dancers were under the influence, but they certainly added spice to the evening. Jon T-bone Taylor sat in towards the end of the set and Chris Youlden finished off the show with his usual great performance. So much for the good times…the following Wednesday it all went apeshit.

I’d arranged to meet guitarist Tony Bell at the blues jam in the Charlotte Street Blues Bar. This was my first visit and I enjoyed it. Gigi and I arrived first, had a bite and drinks. Then Tony and his partner Rosie joined us. We had our names down to jam and eventually Tony and I went up and did a song each. We stayed on for a while then left and Rosie dropped Gigi and me off at the end of our street. We immediately went to the Skiddaw and got another bottle of wine. Unfortunately we were both the worse for wear by then and when we arrived home I completely lost it and flew into one. Drink and I do not get on.  Gigi went home as mad as hell.  So  a beautiful friendship ends and so the blues returns. Frankly I’d rather not be a bluesman if this is what it takes.