Day 289. The dignified don't even enter in the game. (16/10/13)

I got a text from J.

On your way home could you drop in Aldi, get some milk, bread and cereal.

So I did. And as I was being served, the girl at the till (somewhere in her early twenties, served me a few times. Aldi's on the doorstep and sells nice wine although I am quite definitely not drinking tonight, no more wine than normal last night and woke up this morning wanting to die, probably shouldn't have been driving, worked it off by about half nine, decent cup of coffee, all better) asked me a question.

"Do you like Paul Weller?"

Somewhat taken aback as this was basically prompted by absolutely nothing as far as I was aware, "Yes, I do, why?"

"Oh, I just thought you probably did, the way you look and the shirt you're wearing" (the Fred Perry collection is clearly an obvious cultural signpost)

"Ah" I said, "the aging mod look, it's a giveaway."

"I got tickets to see him in Preston" she continued "he was great"

"Do you know what?" I replied, "I've never actually seen him live."

"Oh you should, you're really missing out"

"I actually had a ticket to see The Jam on their last tour. Had to give it to our kid because my boss wouldn't let me have the night off."

1982. September the 24th. I think that I got the ticket fairly late on. A tour in support of the current single 'The Bitterest Pill (I Ever Had To Swallow)'. I was working in Kwik Save in Walton Vale. I'd worked for a couple of pretty good managers there over the years and some fairly decent assistant managers as well. The manager that was in charge at this time was, in all fairness, an utter gobshite of the highest order, petty, nasty, snide, vindictive; a real toerag, I ended up walking out and going on the dole because I refused to work for him any longer.

So I asked him for the Friday night off to go and see The Jam (that's THE f***ing JAM).

His answer? No. Straightforward, simple, decisive, no need for contemplation. Pure and simple, no. What could I do? I couldn't throw a sickie, I'd already asked for the night off so he'd probably suss that I was blagging it. Anyway, I'd already thrown a sickie the week before to go and see The Bunnymen (I'm thinking it was Blackburn but I'm sure that was 83, yep, just checked - July 83, so it must have been something else)

Anyway, I didn't see The Jam. Then or ever again. They intended to announce their split on the first ever episode of The Tube that November but NME broke the story first. A brief farewell tour of arenas down South followed and then there was no more.

And somehow I never actually got round to seeing either The Style Council or solo Weller live, no matter how often he's toured there's always been a reason why I've not been there. Probably sheer heartbreak.

As I told the girl in Aldi;

"I'm still bitter about that."

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