I got back from last night’s gig at a decent time, just before 11, having successfully avoided the Liverpool result. I was recording the game. The bar at last night’s venue was showing the match so I did well to avoid the result. It helps that every evening I’m sticking to having my phone off for four or five hours. I can’t tell you how good it is to switch off from all the notifications and enjoy a book if I’m on a commute back from a show.
I arrived in the back-up café this morning after just four hours sleep. After fast forwarding through the Leeds – Liverpool game, and missing 5 of the Reds’ 6 goals, I caught up on some Boxing stuff on YouTube, watching the Joyce-Zhang fight dissected and then devouring whatever I could find on this weekend’s ‘Tank’ Davis – Garcia fight. Boxing coverage in this country, though improving, still sometimes falls short of looking outside of the UK and it’s disappointing that possibly the most important fight in years is going under the radar. We’re talking about two young men, arguably future hall of famers, putting their unbeaten records on the line, taking on each other in a catchweight contest. It’s a hard one to call but what I like is that despite being different personalities and rubbing one another up the wrong way, they still clearly respect the other’s huge abilities in the ring. Garcia’s hydration clause is definitely a massive disadvantage but if anyone can stop the Tank, it’s either going to be him or Shakur Stevenson who may probably be the best of the lot at lightweight which is probably the division with the deepest pool of talent right now. That division currently features a quintet of fighters who would be regarded as greats in any era.
After the boxing, and before listening to another boxing show, I watched the penultimate episode of ‘We Own This City’. Jon Berthnal is sensational. It’s a tour de force performance from him and once I’m done with this, I’m finally going to get around to watching The Sopranos prequel, ‘The Many Saints of Newark’ in which he features.
It took me a while to get into The Sopranos when it first aired. Even now, while I recognise it was a great show, I wouldn’t say it was one of my favourites. I remember the first series airing on Channel 4 in 1999 and not quite embracing it. Ahead of the second series, they repeated the first (something they never did with NYPD Blue which prompted me to actually WRITE to Channel 4 in the mid-90s) and it was only then that I really started enjoying the show. The second series, with Richie Aprile, was my favourite and I stuck with the show until the end, though I do feel Gandolfini going to war with HBO over a pay increase, leading to the curious long delay of the final year, harmed the show. No doubt the lead did what he felt he needed to do and you can’t criticise him for that. I just feel the show lost some momentum after that. It didn’t quite limp to the finishing line but it had certainly lost something. And here’s a fun Sopranos fact. Alabama 3, the Brixton band whose ‘Woke Up This Morning’ is the show’s famous theme tune (I never liked it) originally featured among their number an old regular from THE café, a brilliant musician in his own right.
Today I was up early, as usual, had a light breakfast and a shower, then ran through tonight’s set, timing it, having to drop one too-long section and integrate another I’d dropped for this shorter version of the piece. Last night had been a very quiet gig and hopefully I’ll feel the benefit of those stage minutes tonight. I’m hoping to squeeze out another run before this evening’s Belsize Park gig as I plan on largely loafing tomorrow.
I thought I might further compliment the Muscular Madeiran on his standalone ‘tache which is the best look I’ve seen him sport since he started here back in January. He seems to be a restless guy when it comes to his look, always changing things about, like Worzel Gummidge with his interchangeable heads. Then I thought, well, he might end up feeling pressured to maintain the ‘tache when he’s ready to give it up just because of my compliments. I therefore held the compliment back.
Madeiran remarked on my early arrival. The thing is, this was always my regular arrival time, certainly in THE café, but I changed things about at the end of January owing to having become too pally with the regulars in SW8 and finding it increasingly difficult to work in there. I also wanted to avoid getting locked in the park during the evening runs, as happened throughout the previous winter, so it made sense to adapt to running earlier in the day and writing after the run.
Bizarro World Me is already here, sat at the back, looking like a cross between a Geek and a Gamer, or maybe they’re similar. I hope back in THE café, I don’t drag my drinks out as blatantly as this guy.
Meantime, the batty young guy, always in here and other shops on the high street, chatting to anyone, is already here. As I arrived at 09:32hrs, he had already cornered a bemused woman who had hoped he was talking to someone else given he had his air pods in (These are so bad for your hearing, by the way. An audiologist told me they’ve been stunned by the amount of under-35s now having the hearing difficulties normally associated with the over 50s and they put that down to the adoption of air pods. We’re not meant to have things pushed into our ears and I’ll never go down the air pod route. I’ve done enough damage to my ears with a dozen years of podcasting and radio). I sat myself a couple of tables in front of Bizarro World Me.
The woman at the table ahead of me sneezed and Batty, from some fifteen metres away, immediately issued her with a ‘bless you’. I don’t think, understandably, that she was too happy with having to give him the ‘thank you’ from all the way back here. I get the impression that like me, she’s one of the more reserved regulars. Actually, let’s call Batty ‘Ultimate Raconteur’ because he’s always chatting, it’s just never clear if he’s talking to anyone or just himself. He was also wearing FLIP FLOPS. You know how I feel about those. If they’re worn within sight of water, then they’re acceptable. If they’re not, well, seriously…
Flarer arrived shortly after I got here. He always looks tired. They work long hours in this place. He’s always got this permanent stubble that’s just a couple of days away from being a proper beard. I realised the other day that him and Upright are one of those couples that actually communicate with one another in their second language, English. This fascinates me. I do remember around Christmas, before I knew Upright and Flarer were married that Upright was learning Italian. I just thought at the time this was so she could better communicate with her employers. At the time I was certain Double Denim was at least co-owner here. Once I learned Upright and Flarer are married, then everything made sense, but I still wonder how Double Denim, clearly now someone who was in their employ, had come to have such a Cantonaesque presence here? Was he a friend of theirs? Were they aware he was such a big, temperamental personality and they weren’t too concerned if customers came to think he was the back-up café’s owner?
10:29HRS
I order my second decaf from Muscular. This, I go on about it, is such a deep space that getting served is problematic. If they take on more staff, I feel they could also instal one of those pool lifeguard chairs, which tend to be about 1.5m in height (minimum) and each member of staff could do a shift in that chair, reporting which tables need serving. That’s some out-of-the-box thinking right there.
The second decaf latte arrives unusually quickly, within 6 minutes, but it does, I think come accompanied as at 10:33HRS, I note a suspicious looking short hair clinging to the left side of the saucer. I’m trying to work out what’s happened here. I have my sweater and spring jacket on the back of the chair opposite, so I hold off from blowing the hair away, in case I lose sight of it on my clothes. I consider using one of my small post-it notes to flip it away but these are valuable and I’m short of them. I know what I’m like. There’s a danger this stray hair might throw me.
Café Soundscape 10:31hrs
11:12Hrs
I take one of the sugar sachets on the table to flick the mystery hair off the table, flicking to the side and away from my stuff on the back of the chair opposite me.
Maybe it was a dog hair, I reassure myself, given they think nothing of habitually stroking dogs in here without any handwashing in-between serving the next customers. If I ever made any good money again and bought this place out, at the first meeting, I’d tell the team here I’d be keeping them on and they could largely continue running the place as they saw fit, except for having dogs in here. Animals get banned right away. They don’t belong in eateries. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable here.
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