the winter of our discontent

its been a long and bitter one so far. The swine flu and its many bastard relatives seem to be ripping through town and it seems every second person you talk to has been laid low for a week or two at a time. A few people I know have ended up in hospital with severe pneumonia.Lize has copped a dose of it and I had a little blast of something a week or so ago. Unpleasant stuff, especially when time off isn't really an option in our jobs.

Whilst I'm on the cheery stuff, a fellow licensee suicided last week. Never an easy reality to digest, it provokes some extreme reactions in people. I find the anger understandable yet somehow unfair. When you are in the frame of mind when popping your cork seems a valid option, consideration for the people you leave behind can't be that easy to come by. Poor geezer ended up necking himself in the cellar, which to be honest is starting to spook me out when I head down into my own to change a keg. There is something weird and grave like about the holes under the ground in which we store our beer. Hope you've found a happier place Glenn.

nice ones

sometimes pub's have truly nice nights. Not as many as you'd like , but we do have them. The nights where the customers are fun, polite and good company. When there is neither too many nor too few punters. Where the off duty staff sit around bullshitting with off duty staff from other venues and the on duty staff can sneak a quiet beer and a fag occasionally. Nights when the pints and shots are lined up along the bar glinting gently in dim light and its warm and friendly. I love these nights.

browntown

experienced my first brownout at the pub today. The electricity seemed to go on half strength. Lights dimmed, the till and the ciggie machine kept resetting and it played havoc with the beer system. Took me a couple of panicked phonecalls, some amateur electrical detective work and the discovery of a hitherto uncharted fuse box before I was a able to sit down and ram half a dozen fags into my quivering self secure in the knowledge the beer would be cold.

Still I must have been a bit low on sugar after my trauma cos Lize reckoned I was snappy and tense when she came in to see me after work. Crashed out at 8.30.

insomnia creeps

sleep's dried up again. So its podcasts and facebook, toast and tea. The rain hitting the corrugated iron should be soothing but it has me alert and a bit bothered. Trying to balance the books, the new winter menu and a bunch of other stuff keeps running around my head. I'm at the start of a fourteen day straight run and a bit more sleep would be great...

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.

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.

solo

a bunch of stuff has happened since I last posted. Some good, some bad, some indifferent.

Firstly the girl is away. Three weeks in Thailand and China with her Mum. I'm not as good at being alone as I thought.

The band played it's first show at Swampy the bass player's birthday party. We were pretty good in parts. However we shouldn't have played that impromptu set after midnight. I can't remember what songs got played or even if they could be considered songs.

The pub is slowly starting to gain momentum. Some of the tradesmen stuff iis bewildering and frustrating me with the slowness of the process.

My baby sister had a baby herself. His name is Dominic and he is a cute fat child.

I've been drinking too much sometimes and going in to blackout a bit. Time to slowdown I reckon. As I said before I don't do lonely that well.