At the Player last night we were talking, Pete and I, about this time last year, about how down it was then and how up it is now.
Last year the place was quiet, we played jazz and blues as couples snuggled and snogged in dimly lit corners. It felt like the world outside had shut down for the winter, it felt like there was nothing we could do to break through the thick ice and surface.
A year later, around the same date, the night before pay day in a five weekend month, in January, in the week of Blue Monday, that faux statistics tell us is the year’s saddest day, we have people, drinking, dancing, screaming, pulling jazz poses with jazz faces, smiles and shoes and stockings and talk of drunken licking. We’re even thinking of turning on the mirror balls, things are that happening.
What has changed in between these dates? The economy is supposedly coming out of recession though with even the smallest margin for error there is really nothing but a big flat plain of stagnation. No, it’s the people again, getting on with it, indulging, playing, enjoying every moment, aware that these may be the last days of decadence. It’s Cava instead of Champagne, it’s choosing the cocktail with the biggest bite, it’s shots all round and staying up late because there’s always the night bus to get you home.
It’s like us, sitting here surrounded by boxes, about to move to somewhere smaller, because it makes sense, because we’re looking out instead of staying in, shabby-chic and still smiling.
This is real and it’s OK.