My team went out for a curry after work last night for some reason which escapes me now. In true Capriconian style we went to our usual Indian restaurant on the curry mile in Rusholme. Regular readers of this blog will now that last year at Tina' leaving do, in the same restaurant I wrote an impromptu poem (Poem for Tina) on a serviette and proclaimed to all around me. I had had a drink or two then. I recall a previous occasion in Hull in 1984ish when I recited one of my earliest poems - Dorothy Wordsworth poem, again in an Indian restaurant. Is there a pattern here I wonder? The only other audiences for my poetry so far are my long suffering creative writing class and a couple of conference presentations when I really should have known better. So I guess I am inching my way towards a public performance or two. Watch this space. Now a word or three from Frankie!
Hello sweethearts and others, It was dullsville last night in the Shazam. The Boss didn't get that drunk, I am not sure what worse when he's sober or a drunk. But we all have our crosses or crescents to bear. I could tell he was itching to read some plates but nothing doing, not even some crap poetry. Well he and the other more mature(! - if that's maturity....) members of our team left early leaving me Jake, Isabelle and Raymond to live it up.
Ah, it was a swirling kaleidoscope of an evening. Drinks in the Krobar One and Two, dancing in the Streets Niteclub and more drinks at the Hotel du Lacquer(!). I woke up with a heavy head and an even heavier presence in the bed next to me. But thankfully it was the Dog.
And he agreed to make the coffee and toast so that was OK.
The Boss looks a bit yellow eyed this morning and he has got a face on him like thunder. You know he has never been the same at work since that last cafe girl - Rosetta left. Ah such terrible taste. I better get him a coffee and croissant from Cafe Muse that should cheer him up!
Love and kisses,
Frankie
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