Friday, May 15, 2009

one punch

a young fella from Ballafornia passed away this evening. Got a whack in the head last Saturday night, hit the ground hard and sadly never woke up. Fighting comes naturally to young lads I suppose, and boooze and whatnot doesn't help. It's still a horrible fucking waste of a life and all things being equal didn't need to happen. I fought often myself as a young bloke, and honestly can't justify it. There were times where I was the one and the ground and others where I was the bloke standing there with blood on my knuckles shaking with rage. I don't know why we act like this, why the inner animal is so close to the surface sometimes. I feel horribly for the poor dead boy and his family. And there's a small bit of me that feels for the silly prick that killed him. Ten years ago, either one could have been me.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

the boss is back

the girl is home. Thank Christ. Three weeks of staring in to the abyss are over. I'm a maudlin kinda cat at the best of times and there were a few dark moments in the boss's absence. But the sun's back out and shit is back to normal.

The pub is painted and the landlord has fucked off back to Calabria so it's a bit easier to relax in the workplace. Funds are still tight, but the boat seems to be pointed in the right direction. Perseverance is a virtue I haven't always posessed (this shambles of a blog stands testament to that) but when changes are tangible and peoples enjoyment is obvious its easier to keep on keepin' on. All my lines are up and running (Carlton Draught, Cascade Light, Pure Blonde, Guinness and Bulmer's), weekly specials are running (lamb shanks this week) and new non deadly bar stools are on their way.

For a change I'm slightly hammered, it's practice night and I'm still buzzing from Rainy night in Soho and a Message to you Rudy. You wouldn't be dead for quids.