Day 231. In the sky the moon of Kauai. (19/8/13)

Okay. Start again. Got things to do. Got nothing to write about. 

So what can I tell you?

How about this? How about the night that the lead singer of Black Lace spent giving me daggers across a crowded room?

Daggers as in staring at me. Not as in he was actually handing me knives. That would be weird.

We were at this party for a girl J worked with while we were in Leeds. The party was in Bradford or Halifax or Huddersfield or somewhere else with a Yorkshire tinge to it. I was staying sober because somebody had to drive home. Curry arrived halfway through the evening. Lots of curry from some hidden takeaway that served in bulk.

So I was sat, eating curry from a tinfoil container, balancing a naan of some kind on the tray edge, in a line of chairs against a wall. On my own. J was circulating somewhere. I'm not very good at circulating. Never quite worked out small talk. Don't have a great deal to say for myself. No. Honestly.

And across the room from me, on the couch, resplendent with bleached blonde mullet was one of the guys from Black Lace. Not somebody who looked like one of the guys from Black Lace. Actually one of the guys from Black Lace, aging pop purveyors of 'Agadoo', 'Superman' and the wonderfully subtle, meaningful, almost Dylan-esque 'We're Having A Gang Bang' as featured in  'Rita, Sue & Bob Too' 

(Aside - why are all adverts using post punk power pop to advertise their wares? Blondie, Buzzcocks, Undertones, et al...you're ruining my youth you advertising bastards)

So, Black Lace blokey. Staring at me. Just staring. As if he knew me and had a real problem with me.
Now I'd never met him, didnt know him, never seen him live. Danced ironically to Agadoo whilst drunk during the eighties (yes that reads right, I was actually drunk during the majority of the eighties) but I doubted that word of that would have come back to him.

So he stared. And I ate my curry. And he stared. And I ate. Stared. Ate. Stared. Ate. And that was about it really. He didn't approach me, I certainly wasn't going to approach him. I remember very little about the rest of the night and J saw none of this.

She maintains that I imagined the whole thing but I didn't. I gazed into the abyss and I saw the dark soul of lightweight eighties pop.

From that day to this I have been completely unable to push so much as a solitary pineapple. Shaking trees? Completely out of the question.

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