Sunday afternoons at the Beehive, half way up a steep hill, a
hardship at the best of times, but once at the door, we would
be left out of breath and gasping for a pint and some amazing
live music, which very rarely let us down.
As we would down pint after pint, our minds doubtlessly became
hazier and hazier, from the intoxication, the musty – stale air of the
beer laden floorboards, that declined with age, could not dampen our spirits.
Creativity – innovation was the key, local artists hung their work
with pride, poetry...music, everything that mattered was a part of
who we were.
Finally we slipped into the chasm, enamoured – invigorated , energized, the pub full to bursting at the seams. If I could bottle
these Sunday afternoons, I would open it at leisure. One particular
Sunday, when the sun shone, it was warm, I wore my hippy gear and felt so cool. There would be quite a few bikers hanging out on a Sunday, I always had a soft spot for a biker.
It's not often I find a tribute band to be exceptional, but if I closed
my eyes, I would have thought I was listening to Jim Morrison
himself, had I not opened my eyes, his voice was thick, rich and
velvety, whipped rich and buttery, I was definitely away with the
The break came all to soon, we finally broke our silence, a need to
relieve ourselves. As we stood in line, women fantasized about their girlie charms, running combs through hair, conversations stilted, then silence like we weren't that interested. We longed to
carouse the bar once more, our minds inflamed by the music.
Hearing those words...”I am the lizard king, I can do anything.”
Oh how those words linger, so breathtaking and inspiring. My
attention suddenly challenged, a whisper in my ear.
“Can I get you a drink?” a hand on my shoulder, as I turn to face
the voice. The touch leaves me suspended in time, feeling like the
innocence of a child has entered my body, my cheeks flush a scarlet red, oh why now? I think to myself, wondering why after all
these years I should still blush.
Asking for a bottle of Bud, I suddenly realise this guy is gorgeous,
he turns elbowing his way to the bar, I noticed his long blonde hair
tied in a ponytail. My mate turns and nudges my arm, then gives me that approving cheshire cat grin, I can see that twinkle in her eye.
When he returns, I feel the energy flowing between us, as our eyes meet, funny how a look can say a million things without uttering a
He locates himself beside me, as the music washes over us, impetuous as I am, I take his hand, such a strong but sensuous firm
hold. “This band are amazing!” I say...feeling like a full bodied bottle of wine, my heart keeping in time with the drummer.
Play it cool! I kept thinking to myself, don't want to be too full on.
But I couldn't help flirting with the idea, I definitely needed to see
Managing to stay afloat, though my body feeling like a million butterflies were flitting, I let go his hand, draping my hair across
my face, to hide my blushes and loose myself in the music.
All to soon enveloped by a blanket of smoke, reminding me of a Jazz club, I used to spend many a carefree night, lost in the fusion
of sounds that took me to another level, a watering hole of remarkable talent, the maestro himself, Mr Acker Bilk made an
appearance. They called Bristol, 'the city of jazz!' once upon a time.
Now as I drift back to the Beehive, I seem to remember the afternoon coming to an end far too soon, the band played three
encores, as the shouts of more...more! Kept on coming.
Drink continued to flow, as the afternoon carried on, as it always
did, talking of things that would be completely forgotten the next
day. Some very deep discussions would take place, under the influence of the beer, anything from, 'is there life out there?' too
archaeology...places travelled...putting the world to right, you name it, we talked about it.
All too soon it would be time to leave, get some food and enjoy the
rest of the evening, with the ever depressing thought, that tomorrow was Monday and work was on the horizon, but then we
had next Sunday to look forward too.
I prayed that guy would be there the following Sunday, building my hopes up, low and behold he was.
That was nearly sixteen years ago and we're still together to this day, all thanks to the Beehive.