We discussed new projects, the six of us, at the
curry house that night. Alec had this notion about creating an online magazine called something
duff like A Country Review of the Arts. His idea
was to raise a thousand quid from local businessmen and the county council first in order to vet some web designers then hire one.
Alec is a pretty cautious cove, but he seems to
know what he's doing. He adopts a professional
stance, like. I caution him that it might be a problem getting a website like that to turn a penny though.
He counters this by saying I ought to write my
'What? so you think that would be a money-spinner, do you? Trouble is, Alec, nothing ever happened in my life, except people. I compare myself here to Edgar Rice Burroughs: whenever I got anywhere the fire was out.'
His wife Birgit, from Bavaria, is a painter who has a show on soon that we are invited to. Her stuff is abstract and I think I would prefer figurative, but we'll have a look-see.
Rick was there in his wheelchair. He had prawn
cocktail to start. His wife Rena chose a chicken
salad smothered with mayonnaise. I went for a
Kabli, a chick pea concoction, plenty of pilau rice, poppadum, nan bread, plus Cobra beer. The banquet table did look great and it turned out to be only £15 a head.
Then there's Gary Coker and his wife Celia. Gary appears to have gigs lined up in Woodbridge. His latest outings have been bringing the band in
£800 a time, as he casually mentioned to Celia over the table. I nearly choked on the chick peas. (Vince and I got £15 between us at our last Care Home try.)
Gary has always been a swaggerer when it comes to the spondulix. He keeps his cards close to his shirt-front but he's keen to impress by a show of this and thass.
He's got sheds full of recording equipment he
never seems to use. He and Celia have also culled hundredweights of apples from their country domain that they can't use and are burying for lack of a better idea, acccording to an old country method, with layers of newspaper between. The idea is that they will be good next year, but it hasn't worked so far, the fruit has always rotted. And they have three freezers going all the time full of various produce that it would take them a decade to consume and now they wonder why they have such a high electric bill.
Gary casually namedrops heavy hitters he's in with, e.g. the front man of the JuJu Fliers, and heavier spenders. Some guy who has rejigged two laptops for him and added memory and taken them back to factory settings all by the aid of a machine he acquired from the Health Service that originally cost £10K. (What sort of doomsday contraption was THAT?)
They cheerfully manhandled Rick up and down those steps and shook our hands as we left. Rick, the wheelchair Romeo, was in fact so impressed with these waiters that he said he was falling in love and would come back and marry them. (He really should have watched that Cobra beer.)