misty seeping fog

my head is full of cotton wool. or treacle. or fog. damn i’m gonna search for fog

went out with all the old crew last night. Me, Captain Davey, Holmes, Sely Gnof, Soneti Fach and Steve.  I dont have a nickname for steve.. that says a lot about steve really.  I hope he never reads this.  Let’s just say he’s the type of guy who wears a watch and works for a very large bank and looks at me funny if i groove along to music and sing before the lyrics kick in.  But he does like the super furry animals and is soneti fach’s future husband. 

A last resort for food was Weatherspoons,  (we’d planned to meet in a really cosy covey hobbity viney pub called the Greek {courtyard featuring sunday night ‘jazz’, open fire, creepy landlord,  greek food, perfect} but it was closed.

so we had curry and a pint for a fiver in ’spoons, as they call it.  But the “Welsh Smooth” wasn’t going down well and we left there pretty sharpish because there was no music.

there’s a lack of warm and comfy genuinely nice pubs with good juke boxes in bangor. is that asking too much from a pub? no. 

we ended up in a place called The Waterloo, cos it has a pool table we could dominate {6 people who can barely play} and a jukebox and a sofa and cool dug out almost-tunnels with seats in.  but the lights were permanently on “chuck out time” level, which was very odd and made me feel like i should drink up constantly.

met an odd guy at the bar from islington though, and told him i was from brighton and used to go out with someone from north london.  He stood up and gave me a hug and told me it was wonderful to meet me and shook my hand and kissed my cheek.  and a tall thin blonde balding man in a long black coat and black cap came and terrorised our group whilst drinking half a pint of bailey’s. total welsh guy on the piss, whos jokes quickly got really threatening and aggressive and we all stopped laughing or making eye contact….

i think we pissed off the clientel with our choices of music too. they’d been putting on awful dance music, and they had the volume turned up incredibly loud, to give it that club-like feel.  So we indied it up a lot with jeff buckley..the smiths, pj harvey, david bowie, bronski beat..and i shocked most of the pub by putting on dan deacon woody woodpecker.  insanely loud.  it was brilliant.  i was the only one who thought so.

waited in the cold for my bus home for ages…..in the end had to go find another bus and ask the driver if the number 4 was still running, he was serving a girl and when she turned around we each squealed a loud shocked girly squeal because we hadn’t layed eyes on each other for 5 or 6 years. it was one of those wonderful instant karma moments, or whatever you call them. becasue if i hadnt missed my bus, or chosen that driver to ask then i wouldnt have bumped into the lovely Catrin Bach from my sixform and cardiff days. it made me incredibly happy. sometimes all the pieces fit.

but now i am crawling through fog because i smoked too much last night on arrival at my brothers caravan. it was one of those proper buzzy sinky swimmy rushy stoned feelings that’s hard to sleep through and hard to settle an anxious mind to, unless you think of nothing but apples. which is surprising.

Low, David Bowie - good for dreaming.