When you wake up to find your social media feed includes your local landlord ‘liking’ the pictures of the previous night, replete with scorched beermats, carbonised fruit peel, and inventive wax dribbling on all the candles, well, I’m not sure whether to be pleased or concerned.
Our #Tuesdays have become the stuff of legend in some circles, mostly due to the generally unfettered and freerange conversation topics rather than the burgeoning pyromania exhibited last night.
Case in point last night was the unusual experience of hearing the ex-Lady M recount recent issues with one of her exes, surrounded by Ladies G, M, P, and the Charleesi. Once more the cry went up, asking why the one person in her romantic history who had bits of paper saying he was unwell was the most sane and stable person of them all.
Okay, a little close to the knuckle, but being #Tuesday it got a laugh, and then I was directly asked: “so why does she keep attracting these people? Go on Tim, you’re the expert here.”
You know how time can subjectively run like treacle as your brain goes into overdrive? Yeah, try that with the full attention of the assembled Ladies M and your daughter fixed on you. After a subjective aeon, I smiled and reached into my jacket pocket: “Let me just get my notes…”
Oh how we laughed. And changed the subject.
Quotes taken out of context are guaranteed to turn heads, but the staff and locals have at least got used to the sight of us all gathered around a table nearish the musicians. The amount of abuse and applause may vary, as well as the volume, but we keep spending our money so much is forgiven.
After all, as irregular as we and our lives are, we’re Regulars. I don’t think I’ve ever had that before.