I met Woody for a beer in the Woodstock, his new place of work. They were robbed after the Bank Holiday, he told me. Four massive guys with an angle grinder went to work on the safe. Shit. It’s set back from the main road, sure, but its only 400m from a police station. That takes some stones. And how was he coping with the move from a high-pressure target-based call-centre team-leader to slow, afternoon, bar work, sweeping the occasional patio? Pretty well, it seemed. Early doors though, not being stressed takes a bit of time to get used to.
The British Lions romped through the Golden Lions, scoring ten tries to their opponents’ two. Satisfied with their performance, I went to Milner’s for Thai food. Amazing, very peanut-centred! Cally and Ali were there too. Cally’s joining the police. I was dumbstruck. We put on the telly.
After successfully avoiding all that bollucks with Susan Boyle whilst it was going on, I saw her singing for the first time. I was touched, though not for the sappy reasons that many others were touched – my first ever girlfriend put the song I Dreamed A Dream on the tape that she made for me when I went away to University and broke both our hearts. It all came back to me.
“Have I got any better at managing my exes since then?” I wondered in the taxi home. They were playing Nelly and Kelly’s Dilemma. I hate that piece of shit song.
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