the London scene

The castle

The castle

I’m sitting alone in the corner of a bar in Notting hill with a gin and tonic. there is some kind of electro disco playing. a fully tattooed south African man is playing the fool at the bar. I think he is drunk. he’s about 40.

I’m waiting for Jo who does the live music to arrive. the place is semi-empty. outside you can tell we are outside what you would describe as the glamourous end of portobello road.

I feel… mixed sensations. relief that I’m not at home watching endless episodes of 24 on DVD. anticipation, in that even playing for this distracted bunch will provide a thrill. I may play well or average. it’s hard to say right now. the gin is building on a foundation of lager from last night. I relax a little

the people walking by outside look far too concerned with their appearance to be real. unapproachable. hardened. even the teenage girls look this way.

this studied life isn’t real. there are so many people here all packing so much in, real friends are a myth or a distraction. I’ve never got the hang of that.

I have a couple of new cover songs I will do at least one of. the crowd will pay attention to that if I get into the right frame of mind. truth is I maybe do this just to occupy my Saturday nights.

there’s too much Tonic for my gin. pour it all in anyway. when I become wise in a few years, perhaps I will remember to look back at this post and I will think “I had some good times in that place”. I hope so. I have.

an unsuspected positive note to end on. Jo will be here in a second. maybe I’ll go and say hello, or just wait here till she notices me. can’t decide if I want to be one of the beautiful, serious crowd out there – whether they feel like I do, a little bit lost, or whether they’re in bliss. at least they’re beautifully dressed.

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