Small Signs of Mutual Respect
Monday, 15 February 2010
The world can be a miserable place at times and it’s easy to lose hope when we see people mistreating each other. It needn’t be something huge like a UK citizen being tortured with the permission of his own government. It might be a relatively minor matter like discourtesy on the road or in the street. So it’s always good to spot the positives when they come along and to appreciate them and be grateful for them. That’s why a small incident at a recent gig brought a smile to my face.
NEW GOVERNMENT BINGE DRINKING STRATEGY
Gill and I were at Leicester Uni to see the King Blues. We’ve now seen them in places beginning with B, C (twice), L, M and N. I’d like to complete this King Blues alphabet but fear that it will take too long and that I’ll have to cheat with gigs in Xeter and Zunderland. As usual at such gigs, the place was filled with thirsty students but the bar was seriously understaffed. You almost suspect that this is part of the government’s strategy to prevent binge drinking. Maybe it’s passed new requirements – perhaps hidden within the bowels of some legislation on safety rules for prams – that allow bars no more than one member of staff per 10,000 students.
Finally, at the stage when my tongue had become like a sheet of sandpaper and was gently removing any rough bits from the roof of my mouth, I reached the bar. It was a liquid miracle
Anyway, the result was that feeling that you’re never going to get a drink and you consider offering a fiver to anyone leaving the bar with a pint of watered-down lager in a flimsy plastic cup. You might recognise the feeling. Three back from the bar with more people joining the queue than those being served, it was easy to do the maths. Finally, at the stage when my tongue had become like a sheet of sandpaper and was gently removing any rough bits from the roof of my mouth, I reached the bar. It was a liquid miracle.
“HEY YOU, LOOK AT MY FIVER AND BE VERY IMPRESSED!”
I was encouraged at having reached level two of COD (Capturing Overpriced Drink). Now it was the time to wave my money around in the vague hope that this would attract the attention of the unmotivated, poorly paid bar staff. As if, on seeing my fiver, they would be overcome with relief that, at last, a customer had turned up who could actually afford to pay for a drink, rather than the others who were milling around aimlessly pretending to be paying customers.
Then, in one magical moment, the nearest member of the bar staff looked straight at me and grunted. My time had finally come. Then, in an act of inexplicable charity or stupidity, I hooked my thumb towards the bloke on my right, indicating that he had been at the bar longer than me. I was struck immediately by a strange mixture of smug warmth and raging thirst. Then, to my amazement and disappointment, the bloke pointed at the bloke next to him. In the Beer Olympics, I had gone from gold to bronze right at the finishing tape.
Strangely, although I had been denied a drink that had been so close that my lips had become moist, the grateful gruff male nods exchanged between the three of us cheered me up, but there was more to come
HEAVEN = FINE MUSIC, MUTUAL RESPECT & BEER?
Strangely, although I had been denied a drink that had been so close that my lips had become moist, the grateful gruff male nods exchanged between the three of us cheered me up, but there was more to come. Having watched the other two blokes get served and move away, the same member of the bar staff turned back and nodded at the person on my left, a new arrival at the bar. This was all too much, but before I was able to devolve into fully aggrieved mode, the bloke next to me hooked his thumb to indicate that I was next. Deep joy on so many levels! I emerged from the scrumpy scrum a much happier man than I had entered it - with a pint in my hand and faith in my fellow man topped up as well.
Despite the fact that Itch and Jamie Jazz were the only regular band members to play with the King Blues that night, the gig itself was great too. In between the usual classics like Let’s Hang The Landlord and The Streets Are Ours, there were a couple of good new songs – Holiday and Headbutt – and the truly wonderful Five Bottles of Shampoo. The poem is a tribute to womankind and a direct challenge to idiot macho culture but escapes any charge of being po-faced political correctness because of its clever mix of passion and humour. It was the perfect way to end a night of warm fuzzy feelings, somehow achieved in a half full, freezing cold university hall. Sheer human magic. Let’s drink to more of that (if we can get anywhere near the bar, that is….)
LINKED ARTICLES ON TAKE THE RED PILL
Hope Not Hate in Birmingham (our first King Blues gig)
Just Good Beer (organic and fair trade beers)
Randomonium (random acts of kindness)
