My rocker husband, who also cooks, cleans and sews along with being a Southern Gentleman by the way, took our youngest and me to a club last night. It was a sleazy little joint and many years ago we would have wafted in on the smoke but thankfully today the air was clear but the tobacco smell was still present, there’s nothing much can be done to a small room that’s had at least seventy years of smoke fumes absorbed into its wooden walls. The floor was still sticky and awash with beer. The last time I saw this band was in Dallas, on Park Lane, the club was carpeted so you can imagine how sticky that was! My daughter noticed lots of pints of guiness going passed and commented,
“In America that is a luxury beer, here it seems everyone drinks it.”
And they do. We were on water last night for good reason which I’ll tell you about another day.
I recognised two of the band members immediately, the only two originals from when Handsome Hubby was their tour manager about 18 years ago. They hadn’t changed but their venues had. Hubs was greeted with great enthusiasm and we were ushered back to the dressing room, a small corridor off the bar, really a store room. We chatted about old times, well at least Larry and the band members did, Malia was wowed…
When it came time for them to play they were loud! All the members had black eye make up on and looked like runaways from Pirates of the Caribbean, they were blacking up their eyes before Johnny Depp, who incidentally had played the club the night before with Alice Cooper, another eye liner wearer, didn’t Keith Richards start the fad? I’ll have to ask Rocker Hubby!
People watching is what Malia and I like to do so this is what we saw last night:
Two old ladies, and I’m not kidding, in their sixties at least, dancing from the get go as if no-one was watching.
A tall guy who danced with no regard for anyone near him or the beat of the music.
A long haired guy who flung his head around so that his hair moved rapidly and as the evening progressed and grew warmer with the dancing bodies, this rapidly moving hair flicked sweat on anyone who was within range, which was a lot of people because he planted himself in the middle of the front rows and did his head flinging regardless of spatial etiquette.
Girls in various states of undress, rough looking girls in various states of undress.
Microderms in odd places, not only the back of the neck but around the bicep and on fingers.
Young men body slamming each other.
And lots of old, long haired roadie types with comb overs.
And there we were. We stood watching the band, tapping our feet, enjoying ourselves and silently screaming in pain as our high heels cramped our feet and our knees started to creak and our backs began to ache, and I’m talking about Malia as well as me!
At 1130pm on the train on the way home, fuelled by the promise of our beds and trying not to doze and miss our stop, we espied people just starting their night out! We didn’t even have the energy to consider ourselves party poopers!
We got home, after the vigourous walk up the hill, at thirty minutes past midnight. Malia and I had partied for exactly twelve hours and we were ready to crash.
The band? The Quire Boys.
The venue? The 100 Club.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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