Goodbat Nightman - June 22 2002

What a strange and busy day yesterday was...I had already minded
myself to make sure I did something to remember Midsummers Day, and
with this purpose went round to my Mum &; Dads to see the match.
Well, we lost 2-1 and while the game itself may live in horror for
those of us who wanted to see England play again on Wednesday, it was a
lot better than going out on penalties. We have never beaten Brazil.
However, I happen to have faith that we will be more successful in
2006, 40 years from the last time we won.

After a small breakfast of bacon, egg, and sauted spuds with some
coffee I went home. The air seemed fresher but there was a great
silence as I walked up the road, seeing the flags fluttering in the
morning breeze. I went online for a bit, then had to disconnect as my
wife had to receive a fax, and I realised that this was more important
than reading about piercings. In fact I had got to the bit where...and
then, well, I didn't have time to reply. So I rang a friend who was
back from the USA on my mobile as a fax was chuntering through, and the
walked round there. He had his dad's car, which is a manual Ford, and
while in the States he drove an automatic (a Lexus, which I guessed
correctly). Anyway, so we drove to Southend in the sun and it was very
hot, and we got as far as Warrior Square when we found our way blocked
by a van, a white van, no flags with a boy and a girl in it.

They were driving the wrong way down a one way street, and my mate got
out and explained that it was indeed a one way street, then I got out
and then we both got back in. My mate told me I looked scarey. He said
it was just the way I climbed out of the car and loomed on them with a
grin on my face. I said you mean we are like Mr Angry and Mr Nice. But
by then we had reversed the Ford and let them pass.

After a brief argument as to why I onlu had 13 pence in loose change he
fed the meter and we went in a second hand record shop. It has many
rare vinyls and I looked at the CDs before having a surreal
conversation with the owner about what version of "My Generation" was
indeed the true version and not just the MCA one which plays very
poorly. After thirty minutes of banter about records, fairs, rarities
and so forth, I escaped.

I walked round to Honky Tonk and tried four new guitars, which I
twanged away on happily for an hour having said I would only be gone
ten minutes. Well, none of them could keep in tune, and I needed the
money for next week, if I go. "Come on," he said, "we haven't got all
day." I left without even buying a guitar pick.

"We must have ale," my friend said, and decanted ourselves to the
nearest alehouse which of course sells fourteen types of Lager,
Guinness but no ale. So we went to another pub by way of HMV, which
sold Flowers, I had a Guinness and he had the Flowers but it tasted of
vinegar and he had to get another one.

There was a young girl, in her late teens who had been drinking quite
heavily and was showing off he new found ability to use four letter
words in conversation. I looked over at her and then at the other match
being played, while my friend carefully outlined his latest project. My
ear was pulled one way, my eyes another. The bouncers were looking at
this girl...then her boyfriend came over, or maybe it was just a
friend, so I didn't have to do anything which was just as well as I had
left the sandals at home.

We went in MacDonalds, me clutching my purchases, a copy of the Jam at
the BBC and Wild Billy Childish's new album the Buff Medways, and spoke
to the girl on the counter who smiled. I smiled back. "Did you see the
footie this morning?" "No" she replied.

After I'd finished and made sure I dropped the rubbish in the bin,
unlike others who seem to be in too much hurry, we went to Waterstones.
Waterstones is a leading bookshop, stocking many many titles, and has a
poetry section exactly three foot wide with less than two hundred
books. On the other side of the shop were racks and racks of Science
Fiction and Fantasy. It was quite disappointing.

We drove to Leigh.

In the bookshop there, the woman serving showed me page 75 of Brian
Pattens book of Love Poems, and I liked what I saw so I bought the
book. I also bought a book of poetry by a Liverpool Beat(le) poet, Paul
McCartney. In this book, he has with Adrian Mitchell's help combined
some song lyrics with some poetry.

The sun beat down mercilessly. We drove to my house where my friend
said hi to my wife who was still working surrounded by paper. Then we
went to the Record exchange where I carefully chose a really bad
album.

Time passed as it does.

About five or six, having read several poems, I became quite upset. The
poems were about love that had failed or was unrequited. I tried to
imagine a time when the new friends I had met were no longer there,
maybe they had gone on to do different things or no longer liked me,
and it was quite a gulp. I wrote a poem right there on my pocket pc,
which I never use much except right then I had to put down what I felt.
Meanwhile my friend was showing his Dad how to use the BBC. On the
net.

I really wanted to get home just then and log in and find out what had
been happening. I wanted to see if I had any email. You know, thats the
saddest thing when you log in and find "You have no new messages." Its
like the equivalent of No Milk Today.

But writing the poem gave me a feeling of calm, having set down my
thoughts. It eased the ache within me.

I got home at seven, my wife had gone out "Have gone to a class, then
Tescos as we have run out of everything!".

I had a long chat with .... which I enjoyed,even though I probably gave
out more information than I should have done, and felt guilty. It was
strange. The usual place had become overrun with demons and we had to
escape to a safe zone. But we connected all right and it was clear that
I do not admit things unless I trust people.

My wife and I watched the special live version of Big Brother. In some
ways the show is repeating in my life, I feel as if I am now part of a
huge online Big Brother and we are all adjusting to each other and
making friends and alliances. I like .... as I do .... and .... because
they are friendly to me and forgive me my faults and because today (21)
is a magical day, magical because I had been wanting to have a long
chat with .... for days. You know how it is. You want to talk to
someone, and then when you do, lots of other people come along, and
before you know it you are having five conversations at once, some
about poetry, some about stuff and some about life.

I made sure to mention my email address, and hope that they noted it
too.

My wife has just come downstairs and opened her post : she's been
invited to "a Rimmel launch with Sophie Ellis Bextor there, no
photography please" she gets a ton of mail each day, while I have a
computer magazine, which is not quite the same thing.

Last night I lay in bed, under the covers, and my brain was just
whirring away trying to sort out all that had happened today.

My cat is refusing breakfast. He is a bit picky when it comes to food,
and who he will let into the house. Bit like me really.