I wake up in the morning and think. What day is it? Do I have a lesson. Are we at war. If so who are we at war with. This is not a new siituation I realise. This is the struggle which humanity has wrestled with since the dawn of time. Certainly long before weekends were ever invented,
I had some lessons with German business students. We laughed about the state of the world. I told them a joke. They laughed at it. Gratifying. You hope people will laugh when you tell them a joke. Two lessons were cancelled. One on time. One too late. I won't get paid for the first. I will be paid for the second. I must say. I prefer lessons I get paid for. Whether I teach them or not. I prefer to teach them frankly.
At half past one I taught one of my favourite students for an hour. We laugh about the ridiculous state of the world but we don't dwell on it. He likes The Police and Sting. And philosophy. I realise increasingly that I like all three myself. Pop music doesn't matter so much I've decided. Philosophy though is important. Working things out if you can. Fastening yourself to a course of actions. Modes of behaviour. And sticking to them.
A nice man comes to measure my blinds. I realise my windowsills need cleaning. So I do my best. I set about them as best I can. I'll keep working on these even though it's now the weekend. I take my washing down to the laundry. All the dryers are taken. Peoples socks, knickers and other unmentionables tumbling.
I have a conversation with a bearded Geordie in the downstairs laundry next to the car park.About the state of the world. Is it the end of the world? I felt like I was in a film. We agreed we were probably in big trouble. We'll all be dead and buried eventually. There's no resisting the inevitabity of that. So enjoy it if you can.
I take my bag with damp laundry back to my flat. Fear not. I've since taken them back to the upstairs laundry and they're dry now. That story's had a happy ending. I like happy endings. But some stories don't seem to have an end. Unreliable narrators. I can't be doing with those.kind of stories. Time for regime change,
I meet with my mate Ian outside The Town Wall.. Ian always makes me laugh. He never reads any books but he's incredibly wise and funny. We go for a drink to discuss the state of the world. We have a couple of drinks. Him with alcohol in it. Me without. I prefer to keep reasonably sober these days. Experience has taught me to keep my eyes open. My wits about me.
We talk about the Poll Tax Riots. I remember it as one of the worst days of my life. Ian remembers it as one of the best days of his. He makes me laugh again. Laughter is good. Regimes hate laughter. Sorry for laughing. There's too much happening.
We head into the Lubber Fiend. I like this place. It's Old School. New School. Old School. Sam and The No Teeth boys are there and so is Sam's betrothed. I'm not sure if that's what he calls her. What they call each other.What does it matter !
She's very nice. She tells me she's read my blog. I tell her that I don't know why she bothers . This is a blog that no one needs or reads. I like to think of it as The New New Journalism. Sam has got his earrings on. I tell him they don't suit him again They just don't. But I'm glad he wears them. . He laughs. Why should he care? What do I know?
The first band Lava Mouse are on. They sound like a band either from the foothills or the peaks of the Himalayas. Ir else Wallsend. I'm glad I don't live in the flat above them or below them. They set off an incredible drone which becomes incredibly hypnotic ten minutes in. Ian and I approve.
The crowd are cool. Half of them it turns out are No Teeth's crowd. Like a small pack of reasonably well heeled and attractive football hooligans. We're all football hooligans at heart. At least we should try to be.
Ian and I don't really agree on next band. Ardent. Let's face it it's good to be Ardent mind. People like it. They're Indie which I'd say is a good thing. Last time I looked Indie was short for Independent. That's what I try to be. Though of course it's difficult. Sometimes they're Dinosaur Jr. Sometimes they veer into Morrissey Pastures. Where's me jumper. Oh, I didn't bring one.
I think that they're not sure where a particular song is going themselves. But good luck to them. The crowd are very supportive. Everybody's Happy Nowadays. As I say, good luck to them. I'm sure they'll grow and change. That after all is what life is all about.
But the bar raises as No Teeth amble onstage. Do an exciting sounding soundcheck and pose on the small raised stage in The Lubber Fiend. As Ian slightly drunkenly suggests, 'They're preparing to put their arses on the line.' As they should. It's what the kids deserve. Never mind those of us who are not technically kids but still feel like it. We have rights too.
I love No Teeth.So does Ian. Sam is a star but they're all stars really. They gurn and preen and interract.They understand the importance of putting on a show. The audience are as much part of the No Teeth experience as the band. You know. Punk ! They're a little bit Pistols. A little bit Fall. A little bit Bonzo Doo Dah Band .Sam makes a set of great faces. They deserve recognition.
They're done. Ian's disppointed that they don't do an encore. But we've certainly had our money's worth. We walk back to the station and say 'let's do this again.' Vive la Revolution. Death to tyrants. Kick over the statues. The revolution will not be televised. Much as some people would like it to be.
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