Guinness

I’m a touch hungover today. The Big Laugh Café provided us with merely adequate entertainment – I am ever convinced that I don’t really enjoy stand-up that much – but also with an opportunity to sample the Guildhall’s Guinness in four-pint pitchers. I’ve been a bit tender as a result. In Ireland the Guinness doesn’t tend to give one a hangover which begs an obvious question…

The bulk of yesterday was spent in Bath. John Hegley’s poetry show for children, ‘I am a Potato’ was fun, clever and knowing. My three enjoyed it. Before the show I saw Jonah Lomu strolling up Milsom Street with his female partner. They were contentedly clutching shopping bags. In a charity shop I purchased a Smiths singles compilation for a quid. For a band that used to dominate every waking hour when I was a youth I am surprised how rarely I yearn to listen to their songs any more. I guess they don’t mean so much now that I’m grown although a part of me confesses that I lost interest in the group when they became popular and uber-hip. When C and I were the only ones to know about them, eagerly awaiting early sessions on the John Peel show, they were sparkling and wondrous and ours. I’ll never forget strutting into the school sixth form common room with their debut album, released that day, under my arm and nobody, nobody having the slightest clue who The Smiths were. Heck, I felt smug.

The video to The Beatles’ Something is one I’d never seen before. Its monochrome charm and simplistic quaintness are gorgeous.

I’m sad that Terry Fanolua is leaving Gloucester at the end of the season and admit to experiencing the faintest moisture around the old peepers when I read the message to his fans on his website. Fanolua joined the city club as a lad really and will leave as a legend. Whatever his shortcomings as a player – and I have criticised his over-zealous desire to seek contact and avoid passing the ball – I have always relished his dedication and ability to give his all for the cause. His final match at Kingsholm will be an emotional occasion and the sentimentalist in me can’t wait. Part of me welcomes Ryan’s decision not to offer the Samoan an extra year though. It hints at a steely determination to create the right squad to challenge for honours. I would rather have a Jack Adams or an Anthony Allen in the ranks any time.