A perfect day in the perfect pub - #2

"This is the day your life will surely change..."

The various 7" singles that comprise the jukebox have been lovingly chosen over the last 50+ years. A surprise selection of The The's "This is the day" adds a delicate hint of melancholy quite early in proceedings (everyone knows that the real pub melancholy hour is from 3:30-4:30pm).

Meanwhile, the first Guinness isn't hurried as today there is plenty of time. In fact there is time to go to the bar and buy a packet of mini cheddars, taking a glance at the newspaper rack (all copies ironed) and surreptitiously taking a copy La Gazzetta dello Sport back to the table. Even though my Italian is very sketchy, fortunately the language of Calcio and grand tour cycling is universal.

The debate about whether a pub needs a television to be good or not is irrelevant. The key is, who is in charge of the remote control? Thankfully, today it is the turn of the Cecil (MCC member and ex-member of the Angry Bridgade). When Cecil (my friends call me Cec' you can call me Sir) Hedges has the remote then we are guaranteed a whole day's play of uninterrupted Test Match Cricket with the sound muted (unless a batsman is approaching a landmark score). The added advantage of this arrangement is, if you have missed any session of play then Cec can regale you with all the details, not least because he completes the pubs ball-by-ball scorebook in a meticulous fashion.

"Whatcha gonna do about it..."

Ah yes, the Small Faces on the jukebox and the mood lightens. First pint finished, the preview of Sampdoria's chances for the coming season completed, along with a retrospective on Marco Pantani and the mini cheddars done... the hum of SoHo traffic reduced by the sound of the Darlings of Whapping Wharf Launderette.

"I want you to know that I love you, baby
Want you to know that I care

I'm so happy when you're round me but I'm
Sad when you're not there
Sing the song now

oh yeah
(Whatcha gonna do about it?) tell the truth
(Whatcha gonna do about it?) she's so nice
(Whatcha gonna do about it?)

I want you to give your sweet, sweet kisses
Want you to hold me tight

I want you to come whenever I call you
And let me walk you home at night..."

Quadrophenia Dreams #2

On the top of the number 11, looking at the images, the clothes, the haircut, the scooter, those trainers. Picking up small snippets of information. Levi 501's (you've got to get the shrink to it ones)... button down shirts (Ben Sherman)... you should only wear a parka if you ride a scooter... go to a proper barbers to get a haircut, don't go to one of those unisex salons... The Who weren't Mods themselves but Mods liked them... Small Faces though, they were the true Mod band... Motown, Chess and Stax records... Ska and Bluebeat too... The Beatles = Not Mods... Mods don't drink pints... There's this thing called the Mod Rule Book, it's got all the laws and by-laws written down... It's ok to like Modern jazz too but not that Trad stuff like Acker Bilk... You should only wear one badge on your suit (if at all)... red socks are acceptable but only with brogues...

Carnaby Street

Not what it used to be

The Small Faces no longer run up exorbitant debts in Lord John's. The Jam no longer play opposite the Marlborough and you can no longer shop in the Carnaby Cavern for the finest red & black polka dot shirts this side of Regent Street.

The only thing left to marvel at are the massive snowmen that should have melted months ago.