Galileo, Figaro, magnifico
As Mrs. Jimmy Page’s Trousers popped off with Baby Trousers this weekend to visit her folks, I had, what is colloquially termed in these parts, a free gaff. Decided to get The Brother over for a visit and perhaps a drinkie or two.
Picked him up and headed to the off-licence for some beers. We bought a lot of beers. So much so that we found ourselves wondering what we were doing buying so much beer. “Never mind” I said, “I’ll just drink the leftover stuff over the next week”. The pretty eastern-European girl serving in the off-licence even commented on the amount of beer and I have to assume that she sees lots of people buying lots of beer.
Well, we drank it all. I even recall ringing the off-licence, to request a delivery, at quarter to two in the morning when I realised that we were running short. Needless to say, they didn’t answer as they’d been safely tucked up in bed for the last two hours.
The last thing that I remember was playing air guitar to Queen in my sitting room and The Brother telling me I was getting the chords wrong. After that however, we apparently retired to the kitchen and listened to some Bowie. We called it a night after The Brother fell asleep sitting up on the kitchen worktop. It’s entirely possible that I did likewise.
The kitchen bit is all based on second-hand information as I don’t recall it. Hunky Dory was in the CD player next morning though so I’ve no reason to doubt it.
