It is probably 18 months since I started drinking Polish lager.
I drank Polish lager before then, when I was in Poland, but that was different.
This lager comes from the 24-hour grocery store within stumbling distance.
This lager is always there for me.
It is always there for you too.
Good day or bad day. £1 a can.
Zubr. Tyskie. Zwyiec.
Tatra. Warka. Perla.
Always there to stretch a good day into an infinite blur.
Always there to truncate a bad day into a bottomless blackness.
It's there when you want to dance with the people you care about most to the songs that have transcribed your heartbeat, your essence.
It is there when you plumb the depths of sadness and regret and can't look at yourself in the mirror.
Polish lager.
Who'd have thought.
Friday, 28 April 2017
Thursday, 6 January 2011
Monday, 3 January 2011
Songs
Over the weekend I have been recording some songs that I wrote and then I put them on Youtube, here they are:
Sunday, 26 December 2010
Monday, 20 December 2010
December 19th
The snow has melted and refroze, it is now treacherous underfoot. I get the train from Stockport having missed the Romiley train. It is a cross-country train, it travels slowly down the tracks, clunking rapidly. No ticket inspector passes by so I don't buy a ticket and no one is checking at the end of the platform, it is a free trip.
I should have worn my thicker coat, it is cold in town. I bury my hands deep in my pockets and hurry to the Soup Kitchen. I have never been there before but I find it. It is a small place, there must be about 20 people there. Black Jack Barnet is playing a six-string banjo when I enter. He has a beard and is wearing a light grey waistcoat. He makes a nice sound. I get a pint of Amstel from the bar and sit down on an simple bench made from varnished plywood. He plays a song about a prostitute, a pirate song and covers 'Walking in the air' from The Snowman cartoon and then a friend comes up on stage and they play Little Drummer Boy.
The gap between performances is awkward, everyone seems to know everyone else. I fiddle with my phone and eventually the second act gets on stage, Becca Williams. She has a nice voice and plays a good song called Belly Achin', the rest of her songs are also good. I get another drink in the interval and the girl next to me starts to make conversation. We talk about the X-factor and other gigs, it was nice.
Josephine wanders forward from the bar and starts to tune her guitar and warm up her voice. She is wearing a dress with a pattern like some brilliant old-fashioned wallpaper, brown and white diamonds. A man called Matt accompanies Josephine, mostly on an acoustic guitar but for a couple of songs on an hollow-bodied Dot type guitar, together they make a wonderful sound. For a couple of songs Matt applies something to the bridge of his acoustic which changes the sounds into something that suggests steel drums, it is intriguing and I will look it up later. They finish their set and then I leave.
I hustle to the station and when I get there the last Romiley train is leaving in 10 minutes, I queue up at Burger King and get some onion rings, I eat them on the train. I do not have a pocket big enough in the jacket I am wearing to carry a book so I am reduced to staring out of the window and trying to pick out shapes in the snow covered fields whilst battling the reflected lights on the glass. The reflection also shows the couple that sat down on the other side of the carriage, they seem happy together and laugh and joke and she falls asleep on his shoulder for a few minutes. The train pulls in at my station and I disembark. The pavements are a death-trap so I walk up through the estate, placing myself in the middle of the road apart from short trips to the curb to let cards past. It is cold so I remove my hands from my pockets and swing my arms back and forth in an exaggerated way to try and get some blood pumping. I get home and the dying moments of The Apprentice are on the TV, the woman won it.
I should have worn my thicker coat, it is cold in town. I bury my hands deep in my pockets and hurry to the Soup Kitchen. I have never been there before but I find it. It is a small place, there must be about 20 people there. Black Jack Barnet is playing a six-string banjo when I enter. He has a beard and is wearing a light grey waistcoat. He makes a nice sound. I get a pint of Amstel from the bar and sit down on an simple bench made from varnished plywood. He plays a song about a prostitute, a pirate song and covers 'Walking in the air' from The Snowman cartoon and then a friend comes up on stage and they play Little Drummer Boy.
The gap between performances is awkward, everyone seems to know everyone else. I fiddle with my phone and eventually the second act gets on stage, Becca Williams. She has a nice voice and plays a good song called Belly Achin', the rest of her songs are also good. I get another drink in the interval and the girl next to me starts to make conversation. We talk about the X-factor and other gigs, it was nice.
Josephine wanders forward from the bar and starts to tune her guitar and warm up her voice. She is wearing a dress with a pattern like some brilliant old-fashioned wallpaper, brown and white diamonds. A man called Matt accompanies Josephine, mostly on an acoustic guitar but for a couple of songs on an hollow-bodied Dot type guitar, together they make a wonderful sound. For a couple of songs Matt applies something to the bridge of his acoustic which changes the sounds into something that suggests steel drums, it is intriguing and I will look it up later. They finish their set and then I leave.
I hustle to the station and when I get there the last Romiley train is leaving in 10 minutes, I queue up at Burger King and get some onion rings, I eat them on the train. I do not have a pocket big enough in the jacket I am wearing to carry a book so I am reduced to staring out of the window and trying to pick out shapes in the snow covered fields whilst battling the reflected lights on the glass. The reflection also shows the couple that sat down on the other side of the carriage, they seem happy together and laugh and joke and she falls asleep on his shoulder for a few minutes. The train pulls in at my station and I disembark. The pavements are a death-trap so I walk up through the estate, placing myself in the middle of the road apart from short trips to the curb to let cards past. It is cold so I remove my hands from my pockets and swing my arms back and forth in an exaggerated way to try and get some blood pumping. I get home and the dying moments of The Apprentice are on the TV, the woman won it.
Friday, 17 December 2010
Wednesday, 8 December 2010
December 7th
I am battling a sore throat, it is a rough deal. I finish work and then have a shower. I walk down the estate to the train station, the pavement is still frozen so I wander down the middle of the road, I shift to the curb when a car passes. The station office is still open so I purchase a ticket there and then wait for the train, on duly arrives and after a short while I am in town. I should have gotten a later train because I am there too early so I go for a walk around town, the Christmas lights make it pleasant to bomb around.
I am still early when I go into the club. I thought I had money in my wallet but I don't so I am nursing a pocket full of change. The first band takes to the stage late, they use a projector which is controlled by a laptop. The laptop crashes between songs and takes an age to reboot. The band make a nice sound, I watch them disassemble their kit and watch the next band set up. They hold torches between their teeth as they assemble the drums.
They are only a four piece, I assumed there would be more people in the band. The keyboard player enjoys himself throughout the gig. The band come off stage after an hour and don't play an encore. I catch the last train home from the station.
I walk through the estate on the way home but continue too far and end up walking across the local field that is still covered with snow and is home to several half finished snowmen. The sky is a lovely colour, a dark red or purple. I try to take a picture but it fails to capture what I see.
I am still early when I go into the club. I thought I had money in my wallet but I don't so I am nursing a pocket full of change. The first band takes to the stage late, they use a projector which is controlled by a laptop. The laptop crashes between songs and takes an age to reboot. The band make a nice sound, I watch them disassemble their kit and watch the next band set up. They hold torches between their teeth as they assemble the drums.
They are only a four piece, I assumed there would be more people in the band. The keyboard player enjoys himself throughout the gig. The band come off stage after an hour and don't play an encore. I catch the last train home from the station.
I walk through the estate on the way home but continue too far and end up walking across the local field that is still covered with snow and is home to several half finished snowmen. The sky is a lovely colour, a dark red or purple. I try to take a picture but it fails to capture what I see.
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