Culture Night
I was late for my weekly night of freedom, the orange lights of the White Heart beckoned in the May twilight as I squeezed the Ford in the gap between Henry’s Four by Four and Sid’s Pick Up. The country air was heavy with blossom, God was in his kingdom and all was well with the world, a few beers and sparkling conversation would place a seal on contentment. Or so I thought.
The gang where sitting at the usual table.
“Sorry I’m a bit late, have I missed a round?” I smiled.
“No, it’s yours” said Bert draining his glass.
I put the tray of beer on the table and sat down.
The conversation had turned to the government, who were as usual engaged in running the country downhill at a rate of knots.
It was not a political discussion, which currant side was in power was entirely irrelevant. As old Sid had once announced in his sixty years of acquired wisdom.
“I’ve lived under god knows how many Prime Ministers and been bleedin poor under every one of em”
“Take the price of petrol; do you know what it costs to fill up now?” moaned Henry
Considering Henry’s Four by Four had a tank half the size of my little Ford, I imagined it to be quite a bit.
“It’s the bloody tax they put on it”. Bert informed us. The company murmured their consent. Stating the obvious always met with approval.
Having aired their pet grievances the conversation petered out; time for a re-fill.
Taking the top off a fresh pint I decided to lift the chat to a higher level.
“The wife bought me Vaughn Williams ‘Norfolk Symphony’ at the week end, anyone know it”
They looked at me as if I had acquired three heads and were unsure of which one to address.
“I don’t like opera, all those big old girls screaming their heads off” said Bert
“And all those bent geezers in tights jumping about showing their tackle” grinned Sid
“That’s ballet you moron” Henry told him
“A symphony is not an opera either” I chimed in.
Henry cleared his throat.
“I have the ‘Planets’ he announced triumphantly.
“What all of em?” inquired Sid
“The wife’s got that one by the Ruskie” announced Bert
“The Eighteen Twelve?” I guessed.
“Yeah that’s the one. It’s got real cannons and everything” said Bert proudly
“And you think it is necessary to have real cannons in classical music?”
“Course” said Bert “It livens it up”
I sighed and gave up
“Man U played crap on Saturday”
I watched as the smiles lit up their faces; I was back in the fold. Maybe I’ll try them with poetry next week; then again no, I mean would you?