And After All

Dear O'H dear and Lovely Tea Jenny,

It was Rod’s leaving night from work. We stared off in Chanters where Rod put £300 behind the bar before heading across the road to Footlights where there happened to be an open mic session.

By this point Rod, who had probably made the biggest dent in his own bar tab, had lost the ability to talk and had resorted to giving the peace sign any time someone attempted to speak to him. Despite this, he staggered up to a couple of guys who had just finished their session and slurringly asked if one of them could play the guitar so he could sing.

The guitarist started strumming the chords to Wonderwall as Rod mumbled the wrong lyrics of the opening line. It felt like watching a car crash and everyone had that horrible impending doom feeling.

And then amazingly, his brain fired up and he was actually good. Rod can really sing. We were all astounded (and relieved). Ok, he forgot the odd word but it was still pretty impressive as he couldn’t have told you his name 5 minutes earlier.

It was a good night but I booked a sneaky Uber just before the pub closed. I suspected that someone was going to suggest Fingers and I decided I’d opt for being able to function in the morning.

C