Taking a Bow

I don’t know how last night happened.

'Why don’t we go out this evening, Howard,’ Lisa had said. ‘This real hunk I met at the newsagent told me there’s a bar where they have live music once a week, and it’s like an English pub! You’d enjoy that, Howard…’

‘Maybe,’ I had to admit. ‘Depending on what sort of live music… What’s it called, this place?’

‘The Strangled Parrot,’ she said.

How pleasantly rustic…

It was tiny, dark and steamy, in a back street obviously favoured by dog-lovers; at least it was only ten minutes from the flat. There were several thousand people inside I’d say, but somehow we wedged ourselves at a table up by a wall, and sat while the throng seethed around us and waiters miraculously brought us many drinks. (Must say, I like the waiter idea in a bar – avoids all those unfortunate spillages).

Anyway… The music was a new experience - a Brittany folk band and their Very Big piano accordeon. One minute I was trying hard to drink myself to death on some ridiculous and constant cocktail; then Lisa went off to find the loo and then I saw the Stalker-woman from the café the other day; and THEN I was up on stage - with her and that bloody awful piano accordeon.

After a while I realised that the wind-up gramophone noise really was coming from me… I sort of recognised, “…been a Wild Rover for many a YEEAR, and I’ve hmm hmmm hmmm MONEY on whiskey and beer…” Oh God, why hadn’t I drunk more Red Hot Hammers?… Why was I here? Why wouldn’t this stop?

But it didn’t stop. The Woman was laughing and waving her arms and singing along in this raucously sexy French accent; in fact, everyone was singing along. The whole bar, singing and cheering and waving their glasses, and suddenly I was whisked back to The Bell with Joe and Eddy and everyone, all joining in as loud as we could - ‘I asked her for credit; she answered me NAYYY…’

I think we sang it three times in all; the crowd wanted more, but I needed a beer.

Did I really take a bow and give Stalker-woman a hug? I did. Because for a little while I’d been somewhere I belonged, and it had felt warm and cosy…