Tuesday 19 May 2015

Circle of Life


At the end of last week the blues guitarist B.B. King died. I am fortunate to count among my friends a guy who was a professional guitarist for most of his career and who was famous in the 80s. I sent him a text on Friday morning to let him know that B.B. King was dead. His reply was better than any obituary I could try to write:

"Oh that's very sad – he talked to me after a gig when I was 15 or 16 – he was a really kind and nice man – fucking good guitarist!"


On Saturday night I was at a birthday party for this blog's longest serving and most loyal reader. I met her more than 15 years ago when she used to go out with one of my friends, and I first met her family at one of her earlier birthday parties. That party started off with a boozy lunch in a pub with a very good kitchen. Her boyfriend and I put away a considerable quantity of beer. My recollection of the rest of that afternoon is hazy but I awoke in the evening in her parents' kitchen with my head slumped onto the table and found that a birthday tea with cakes, sandwiches, and sausage rolls was being served around me. Bizarrely I made a pretty good impression on her family.

Richard "It's probably because I didn’t say anything" B

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