The
High Life
By
Dominic Horton
This
week Lowlife uncharacteristically
had a bit of the high life as my dear son Kenteke and I had a short
break in a four star hotel in Nottingham after I secured a more than
favourable deal on lastminute.com. As the name of the website
suggests the holiday was a bit of an off the cuff affair which is
unusual for me as being a worrier spontaneousness is not something
that I usually get involved in. That said I do sometimes order a
picked egg in the Flagon & Gorses on a whim if the mood takes me.
I am normally overly cautious, so I surprised myself (and all of my
work colleagues) a great deal recently when I took voluntary
redundancy.
 |
| Kenteke on the beach at Old Market Square, Nottingham. |
It
was all a bit eleventh hour as applications for VR had to be in at
1700 hours on deadline day and come 1645 hours my mind was not 100%
made up. I decided to toss a coin, heads I leave, tails I stay in the
job. But then I thought, “what happens if the coin lands on tails,
how will I feel?” I would feel crushed I thought, so that was that
and I applied for VR and luckily they couldn't wait to get rid of me.
It was no secret that Mex had applied for VR as he had told
everyone, but I had not disclosed my application to a soul other than
Mex. On the day the bank told Mex and I that we could naff off he
gathered our departmental colleges around and told them that he was
off into the sunset. Then I took great delight in informing the
gathering, “and I am off too.” There was a bit of nervous
laughter before everyone realised that I was being serious. All
hands congratulated the Mex and I while privately thinking,
“b*ollocks, there was only ten in the department to start with so
now we are down to eight we are going to have to work like navvies.”
When
I worked for the bank they once dispatched me on a mission to a
branch in Nottingham but on arrival in the city on Monday I found
that the branch in Old Market Square is now a pub, imaginatively
named The Bank but we didn't go in the place as it is a bit like a JD
Wetherspoon's house but with more expensive prices. But Old Market
Square had other treasures on offer and we hunted for them in the
fairground Pirate ship, which is a contraption of torture that swings
violently from stern to bow, high into the air, so you end up looking
directly down at the ground. It was an awful experience. It was
not the kind of activity for a queasy stomached drinker to partake in
and on more than one occasion when we were high in the air I felt
decidedly bilious and thought that I was going to vomit on my fellow
shipmates directly below me at the bow end. Fortunately my lunch
stayed where it was meant to be and it was a great relief when the
horrors of the ride were over and I could return to dry land.
We
got off the ship and went to the beach. Nottingham City Council have
deposited 250 tonnes of sand on Old Market Square to make a beach for
the kiddies to play on. Kenteke took great delight in spending the
afternoon building sand castles and making streams and tunnels in the
sand while I sat on a deck chair reading The Good Beer Guide to
research where to go for tea (or dinner if you prefer). I was
enjoying things so much that I didn't even sneak off to the beach bar
for a livener. Going somewhere to eat with Kenteke would at least
give me the opportunity to undertake a reconnaissance mission to one
of the city's decent boozers.
 |
| The Clock Inn, Shell Corner, by request of Toby In-Tents. |
But
Kenteke had other ideas as he spotted a Pizza Express on the way back
to the hotel and he wanted to go there but I studied the menu
outside and thought it was a bit pricey, especially as beer-wise they
only sold bottled Peroni lager which was ludicrously priced at
effectively £6.60 a pint. But then I remembered that the Codger had
given me a voucher for Pizza Express, buy one main meal get one free.
Given that I used to scrutinise the minutiae of legal documents in
my previous profession I have a habit of reading all terms and
conditions and the small print on vouchers to avoid them being
rejected come payment time and the voucher in question seemed to be
watertight, all we had to do was avoid ordering calzone and we were
quids in. But when the bill arrived and I presented the voucher
the waiter said, “you can only used this voucher in September
mate.” I queried this and asked where it said that in the small
print. The waiter pointed to the top of the voucher where it read in
large font “SEPTEMBER OFFER.” The devil is not always in the
detail.
 |
| Ronan the Accuser, from the film Guardians of the Galaxy |
I
have long contended that the attention spans of people have generally
significantly decreased in the last twenty odd years and this was in
evidence when we went on a fascinating guided tour of the tunnels
under Nottingham Castle. After ten minutes I looked around at the
others on the tour and I realised that I was the only person actually
listening to the interesting stories and facts being orated by the
tour guide. I felt a bit sorry for the bloke, especially as he had a
kindly countenance and was probably working for nothing as a
volunteer. Some of the people were even rude enough to be playing on
their mobile telephones.
The
guide told a wonderful but grisly story of the execution of the
traitor Roger Mortimer, 1st Earl of March, by Edward II
and his body being taken through the tunnels. Later I bumped into
the guide in the gents and he told me that historians have now
disproved the story but he has left it in the tour as it is a good
yarn. This made me question all of what the guide told me on the
tour; you can tell people any old b*llocks and they will believe it,
as is proved on a daily basis by readers of the tabloid newspapers.
Despite
the reduction in the populous' concentration spans people are still
able to sit through throw away, unchallenging Hollywood movies as I
discovered when Kenteke and I went to watch Guardians of the
Galaxy at Nottingham Cineworld. Despite the film being
ostensibly a kid's movie Kenteke was the only kid proper that I could
see in the packed auditorium and it partly answers a question much
asked in the Flagon & Gorses – if young adults of today no
longer go to pubs what do they do in their spare time? They are all
in Cineworld Nottingham and similar places sporting silly beards (not
the ladies) and drinking latte coffee.
 |
| A dreaded fairground Pirate Ship |
Kenteke
enjoyed the picture and I had a power nap, waking up just in time to
see the action packed conclusion to the film. I awoke to see the
evil Ronan the Accuser telling anyone who cared to listen what a
powerful fiend he was and that he was going to rule the galaxy
whether they liked it or not. Ronan was dressed in a Darth Vader
type get up and he had black make up all over his face which was
badly applied in the fashion of an old transvestite lush. It struck
me that baddies are more often than not poorly dressed but just
because you are evil there is no reason why you can't dress stylishly
in say a decent sports jacket, a well cut shirt and chinos and a
dapper pair of brogues. They would all have to be black of course as
that is the colour of choice of baddies but that might lead to
confusion as the viewers might think that the character is in fact
Johnny Cash, who was generally seen as a goodie, especially after he
found God and laid off the amphetamines. There is always exceptions
to the rule of course and despite their dreadful fascist ideology it
has to be said that rakish Nazi officers did rather cut a dash in
their flashy uniforms. But it is better to be a poorly dressed
goodie than a dashing baddie I suppose.
It
was back to the lowlife on Saturday drinking with Tom Holliday, El
Pistolero and the Woodcutter in the earthy Clock Inn on Shell Corner
where they served us Scotch in half pint Carling Black Label glasses
and the pick of the cuisine on offer was packets of Golden Cross
Spicy Rings. It is pleasant to get away for a while but it is
equally good to return to the reassuring surroundings of home.
©
Dominic Horton, August 2014.
*
EMAIL: lordhofr@gmail.com.
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