Burning Slowly but Fanning the Flames

What struck me about today, apart from the incessant rain, was that it is nearly half way through 2006, slip sliding away. It’s also Monday and grey. I was and blurry eyed as I stepped of my boat and onto the extremely wet and muddy tow-path. A dark blue suit and shiny black shoes is not really all terrain wear but alas I need to work to pay the bills, fortunately only three days a week (Mon, Tue, and Wed).

Well, the weekend (mine starts on Wednesday evening and goes on until Sunday night) started slowly. I stayed over at Keef’s as I had promised to give him a lift to a clinic early Thursday morning for a medical to get his driving licence back. Apart from him suggesting that maybe we should share a shower because of the water shortage, the evening was pretty uneventful. I did start to wonder about him though; twenty years I have known him and strange he may be, he has never indicated to me that his tastes were for anything other than red blooded women. He must have been joking, mustn’t he?

It was a seven o clock start Thursday. Took Keef to his appointment; the only comment Keef made after the inspection was about the pen the doctor used, a silver Duofold, and the quality of his brogues, Loakes. And he did also mention that the young doctor had made the comment: “at least you can stand up without falling over this time”. Let’s hope he passes and I don’t have to drive him everywhere he needs to go.

Dropped him back home and did the 90 mile drive to King George’s hospital to visit my mum. I got there and her bed was empty; she had been discharged two hours before. I had actually called the ward to make sure she would be there and they sad her ambulance wasn’t booked until 6pm. I had got there at 4pm. Still, never mind, details! I shot over to the care home where she now lives but by this time it was too late to stay long. As it turned out, she was confused and tired so it was probably better that I kept it short and let her get to bed.

I got back to Oxford in time to do my poetry gig at Joe Ryan’s Half Moon. Every Thursday, it’s “Sparky’s Flying Circus”. It was a good crowd and Sparky was on good form; modesty forbids me to say “So was I”. Chris also performed some great dense stuff. There were quite a lot of new faces that had turned out. It’s better like that sometimes; it means you can get away with doing a lot of old stuff that the regulars have heard time and time again. I kept my eye open for Sylvie but she must have been working. It was nearly 3 am by the time Sparky and I were stuffing kebabs down our necks in the Cowley Road. Sparky was pissed by this time and ranting between mouthfuls of donner. I was sober, which is why we were eating in the shop and not in my car! On the whole, a good night was had by all. It would be great to see you there to listen or perform, every Thursday night at Joe Ryan’s Half Moon on the Plain in Oxford, Sparky’s Flying Circus.

The boat rocked gently in the strong Thursday night brazes and I slept like a baby. No room for dreams that night, just pure blissful sleep. Friday was a day I had been slightly apprehensive about; I was going to meet and have a meal with my ex-girlfriend that I hadn’t seen for over three months. Sleep was doing me good.

The tow path had dried out a little by Friday morning, well nearly mid-day by the time I surfaced. I walked down to pay Kev the money I owed him for servicing my engine. I headed off to the library in Kidlington to use their internet connection. I wanted to see if any women had responded to my profile that I had just added to the Yahoo online dating service. Well - What is a man supposed to do? Where do you go to meet women once you mature from your teens and early twenties? I had a couple of hits but only standard replies selected from a list, better than nothing though. I am still not sure how it works but it’s a bit of fun at the moment, I am not sure if I will ever meet someone but it passes the time at work!

Bussed into Oxford, I was working behind the bar at the Half Moon from 5pm until 8pm, doing Joe a favour (and he was doing me one as well). I opened up at about 4pm, filled the ice bucket, switched on the cooler in the cellar and changed a barrel of Fosters. It’s always quiet between 5 and 8, so once the basics had been done there was little to do than sit and wait for the odd random drinker to enter the bar. It was particularly slow that night and all I could think of was that at 8:30pm I had to meet my ex-girlfriend at Cibo’s, the Italian restaurant in South Parade, Summertown. Joe pitched up dead on eight and I was out of there and on a bus heading North within 10 minutes.

Cibo’s went well, she was more apprehensive about the meeting than I was but it all went off ok and few bridges were rebuilt. Time to move on.

I got back to Rock in time to get in and watch the drunken pirates play killer on the pool table. I got knocked out on my fifth shot (killer pool that is, not whiskey!). I walked an extremely drunk mate back to his boat, preventing him falling in the canal about every five steps. It was 2 am and there was very little light in the cloudy sky. It looked like more rain would be falling that night. And fall it did! I like the way it sounds when it hits the roof of the boat and splashes in the water of the canal. It is very soothing and sends me off to a deep dreamy sleep.

Saturday slipped by without me hardly noticing and by 6pm I was sitting in the White Horse in Broad Street drinking Guinness with Jamie who was on lager and into a deep conversation with Ted (5 pints of scrumpy cider already inside him) who we had just met for the first time at the bar. They were banging on about ‘Tess of the D’Urbervilles’, Ted’s favourite book at school, apparently. Hunger drove us out of there eventually and we went for noodles at the Noodle Bar (clue is in the name) on Gloucester Green. It turns out that Jamie has also registered with an online dating agency. He said his daughter had bought him a subscription as a birthday present. So, after the meal we went to an internet café in the high street to compare notes. It was £1 for 20 mins, but we managed to log up £6 of time. It was fun though. I estimated that about 17% of all eligible women in the Oxford area were on the pull! It was time for more beer. Being unimaginative sorts we found ourselves seated at the bar of the Half Moon talking to Joe and watching the Eurovision Song Contest of the small TV in the corner of the bar. How sad is that! Finland won, in case you don’t know.

Sunday was the Eight Bells in Eaton as usual and the regular crowd were there in force. The new South African barmaid was working again and I think I made a bit of headway with her. She seemed to like the fact that I am a poet and said she has been writing poetry herself. Watch this space. I went back to R&J’s for lunch at about five but headed off home before nine. I needed a good night’s kip under my belt. I took a book to bed with me but was pushing out zeds before I had finished the first two pages. A new week awaited me – I love this life!