It was the night before Christmas and all through Kings Cross , not a creature was baffled, not even a Blockhead..lol
Well it was the night before the night before christmas but hey!................and how now my pretties, i hope you are all replete after feasting and frolicking over the festive season.....that your Christmas's have been bloody excellent and your New Year's bloody marvellous :-)
Indeed , Kings Cross, the rain was coming down stair rods and the wind was battering as I approached the Grays Inn Road,as is my want these days, I am falling in with our Block friends from the north, Les and Kev who have already made themselves comfortable at The travelodge, .........the kettle is just boiling and Kev has, as the gent that he is, taken it upon himself to be chief brew master once more..........he makes a lovely cup of tea.
And this is the measure of this small party of Blockheads, that as we ready ourselves to get lairy for the evening, we busy ourselves with catching up on gossip, family, each others good health over a good builders and a chocolate finger . Les and I set about a quick and brisk bit of titivating ( you must 've seen Blockheads with hair straightners and eye shadow? ) whilst Kev did his best John Travolta combing back his hair ...we all have silly grins on our faces and are preparing to have a right laugh, we get a bit excited over these 'ere Blockheads gigs, there has been texting 'n emailing and we know their are several other Blockheads abroad we must meet ,...John and Rodders are already well met in the local boozer and we must away! :-)
And so! we venture out into filhy rain, hard rain and we got wet! but we had all of a 100 yards to venture! and there we were Mr. McHugh and Rodders there about the table, a more comfortable scene, you could not imagine. Rodders boys were to be joining us and we were straight in....everyone got drinks? everyone got fags?....wehay!
Rodders and I have a most lovely conversation about elderly cats, his is apparently somewhat of a supercat, surviving against every odds to wee on the stairs and lead Rodders a merry dance.......we are joined soon after by Johnny Turnbull and John Roberts of ..."The Blockheads" and we gaily chat about tutoring and mentoring as well as having an impromptu , general knowledge pub quiz..........i know..........the measure of this party of Blockheads, that as we mark our territory, we have such convivial and intellectual discourse ...until of course......
Rather duplicitously Mr.McHugh tells me he wants to see me violent, I ask why? ( he knows I am a pacifist) he did not answer me.......... my guess is he was talking utter wank ....or is a not so secret masochist :-) ... ............we, the many Blockheads amongst us, believe he was already drunk lol :-)
We leave him faffing abaht and calling for attention, to step out over the torrential river that was then, the grays inn road to catch a bit of the support act.......well it would be rude not to... what goes around comes around as it were. The support were a kinda ska, folk, dub combo, and they went down very well, they had a good crowd for 'em and although i could not make out many of the very ornate and decorated lyrics, i could see htey were carefuly crafted. The sax player was having the time of his life and the guitarist made a great straight man.......worth seeing my dears, worth seeing.
There was much smoking of fags and silly buggers and getting excited as Kev 'n Les make their way down the front, I spy Master Peanut and he spies us, we make our felicitations in a proper fashion. Master Peanut has things he has to do and we will catch him later. The crowd is dense and i am debating whether to stay at The back, when Mr.Mc Hugh finds me... we stop there in the middle of the room to have a philosophical muse on the nature of literature and the art of writing..............he tells me Harold Turkeypants does not wish to film this night and that he is thinking of taking up the pen........Harold as a a modern day Dickens, .......we stand in awe of the Dickens oeuvre......and I say ...why not? Do it.........Harold does not have to film if he does not want to.......and if he wants to write .... then he should. ...McHugh asks me for a hug, ...i say Block love (like humane love) is good ,.........he says any type of hug/love will do, he doesn't care.......i however , ...do ....:-)
McHugh takes my hand...........and tries to guide me through the crowd .......we , the many Blockheads around us, believe he is very drunk. He made it though, the professional Blockhead that he is........i myself had to retreat :-)
The Blockheads began to play..............Wehay!!!!! the sound is really quite good .. the intro to "Wake up..." was glorious...and i found myself in a space to throw a few shapes whilst Rodders stoutly looked out on my left and his boys, skanked nicely to my right , a Blockhead could not feel any more comfy.
And there was Emma :-) hurrah! a more happily entranced Blockhead you will not see this side of Blockfordshire.....we have a little chinwag and dance round our handbags in very much a get down and funk kinda way.........nice.
And as we do, suddenly out of nowhere, i feel a hand thats not mine in a place it shouldn't be.......i was so entirely freaked out , the adrenylin kicked in and i had to jump out of my skin to save myself from committing violence against an unknown body behind me..........the body then lurched over towards Emma, crying "knickers, knackers , knockers!"....... and tried to put a hand on her too..............Mc Hugh!!!..........you arse!.......why?.................. Rodders looked on... giggling his head off, :-).. we, the blockheads amongst us , believe he was very very drunk.
Emma went out for a fag break and I carried on dancing the night away........Gilad Atzmon on the sax, it had been too long since i had heard him and it was as if i had been given a tincture........he looks so at peace when he is playing, just lets it out ay.......And it is over so quickly, or so we think, we have rung ourselves out from shouting the odds and "Reasons" is coming to an end , we are absolutly spent, the heat of the room has so overwhelmed us we pile outside for a pint of water and some fags in the cool night air........it has stopped raining!!!! when suddenly Rodders says, almost in a whisper...........Francis/es they are paying Francis/es.............we run full pelt back inside coats thrown off, glasses steamed up, i fall against the back wall and quietly steam to the beautiful an emotive strains of lullaby.............n'night Blockheads, sleep tight.........
except that it was not all over ...........we let the crowd disperse and look for our brethren, Les, check, Kev, check, Rodders check, Peanut check, Jamie, check, McHugh, tartan, tweed , Cheque.
Everyone got drinks? Everyone got fags?.......cool............Peanut rushes over and get's a bloke to take our picture and we all spy McHugh heading in for the kill, a hapless Emma stuck behind the merchandise stall!!!
Master Peanut is not hanging around, he cordially says his felicitations and his goodbyes ,carefully minding not to give us any eye contact at all, for which we love and care for him greatly.
We all laugh look over and see Emma straining a smile for help .....,apparently Mr. McHugh would like to give her one, she does not want it..................................I make haste around the back of the merchandise table and grab her gaze she turns to me and holds my hand.....as he sloped off towards the bar. .............My work done. Les, Rodders, the boys and Kev and me , go outside for fags and chinwags, just as we are mooching abaht, McHugh came listing towards me, with his glasses askew crying " knickers, knackers , knockers!" and trying for a kiss!!! ...i did not want one......he appeared to be wearing that new cologne........desp'racion pour homme....why?.......we , the many Blockheads about us, believe he was absolutely wasted.....
Derek the Draw and Mick Gallagher The Blockheads are outside and we swap chitter and banter, most cordial gossip and compliments, ego stroking abounds.......and why not! :->
We go inside and I begin a lovely chat with Chaz Jankel Blockhead, his smile still as huge as it was , we swap, chit chat, exciting plots, daft platitudes and compliments, ego stroking abounds.....and why not! :->
Then outside again, in and out, in and out, we were as bad as one of Kev 's jokes..............
McHugh comes out and has lost his hat, he seems contrite and cold, he has also hurt his knee, can barely walk, he tries his best to keep bonny and gives us his best Jimmy Saville impressions ... but he is forlorn...............i wonder if Emma kicked him in the knee. :-) Les, myself and Kev, tend to him and help him, give him ciggies and send him to go find his hat, while we look around to hail a cab.
Rodders and the boys are away home, it is Christmas Eve in the morning and the house must be made ready, 12 coming for dinner and got to get the chairs out of the garage..........merry Christmas and safe home to them.
We walk the 100 yards back to our room making sure McHugh was safely in the back of a taxi, with his newly found hat he was singing and raring for more !
Kev and I look at each other whistfully...........as one, we say to each other...........do you fancy a brew............oh yes......and a finger? ............corrrr yes.
we get Les...............builders and a finger Les?..........corrr yers.
I bloody love The Blockheads and I bloody love the blockheads........
Happy new Year my pretties! :-> xxx