A bit of short story called 'My Band'

"Did you see the concert last night?" said John.

"Did I see it, I was there," said Dave. "Got a season ticket, haven't I?"

"You lucky bastard."

"Where did you watch it. At the pub?"

"Yeah, went down with some of the lads, Mike, Dave Two, Peato and Swizzy."

"What a performance. Yeah, we won, but it should have been more than that."

"That's the thing, innit, I can't believe Severini got sent off for that."

"We still played well, even with an empty seat on tuba."

Malcs walked in, running late, and with wet hair.

"Ten six, ten six, ten six," chanted John and Dave. "Ten six, ten six, ten six."

"Yeah, fuck off. You didn't deserve that." said Malcs.

"You got fucking battered," said Dave. "Ten six, ten six, ten six."

"Top of the league," said John.

"Yeah, for now," said Malcs. "We've got a play in hand. We've got Tadcaster on Wednesday and when we beat them that puts us one point above you with two concerts each before the end of the season. Severini's out for two games, and who have you got left? You're going to have to get a dep sitting in and that puts you at a major disadvantage. I tell you, we've got this one."

"We'll see," said Dave.

"Even if you win the league this season, we still beat you yesterday," said John.

"Ten six, ten six, ten six."

"Fuck off," said Malcs. "Cast your mind back to the start of the season when we beat you seven three at home."

"You didn't deserve that," said John.

"Why?"

"Cos you are shit."

"No, you are shit."

"Bollocks, we are the best."

John made himself a cup of tea, picked up the paper, and sat down for his break. He turned straight to the back pages for the brassie news. There was a story about fans at a concert in Cuenca making monkey noises at black brassers from the away band, Granada. The whole back row cornetists from Cockermouth Millers BB are in the dock for the alleged gang rape of two fourteen year old girls. A super rich oil Sheikh from Kuwait has just bought Lyme Regis Fossilers BB for an undisclosed sum. Stan Byron, the manager of the Fossilers was now putting in a number of bids for high profile brassers, including a British transfer record of £38 million for Mexican flugelhornist Erubiel Jimenez. The whole of Europe was gearing up for that summer's UEBA European Brass Band Championships, and there was much speculation as to which bandsmen would fill the 1-9-1-3, 2-2-1, 2-2-2-4 of the English national band.

He always fancied himself as a tubist when he was a kid, imagined he would turn pro for Sedbergh Millers and take them all the way to the top of the first division. He had a poster of Billy Grummell, legendary Sedbergh tubist from the 1970s, when all his friends had posters of soprano cornetists and flugelhornists. He never became a professional, and never really played except for the occassional tune-up in the park on a sunny Sunday afternoon. But he stuck with the Millers - the Sedbergh Millers Brass Band – even in 2003 when they changed their name to the Booksellers as part of Sedbergh's bid to become England's official booktown. He saw his team rise to the top of the old first division in 1991, just as his father had in '69, and his grandfather in '47 and '51.

602: Did I say a month?

A month became nine.

The last time I posted one of my "daily" blog posts was shortly after my wedding day. My wife and I could have had a baby by now. Still no baby. Still no novel. The novel is more than just a twinkle in my eye. It is a complete idea, approximately 45,000 words of which actually exist outside my head. The baby generally only exists as a feeling of nervous terror which could tip us the wrong side of the poverty line. Baby and book will both exist one day, but neither currently have names.

Here is this:

There are two large black birds in the park visible from the living room window. I'm sat on the sofa listening to Faith No More from my epic Spotify Metal playlist. The black birds might be crows or ravens or just blackbirds, I don't know these things. I'll call them ravens because that just seems to sound more impressive, what with the poem, and the wrestler and the Bela Lugosi film where he plays a hubristic insane doctor who says “I am SANEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED!!”.

So, the Ravens in the park opposite my living room have moved along. They didn't wait for me to write that last paragraph and they have no obligation to allow me to continue observing them. There's some pigeons, will that do? And a penguin coloured dog? Earlier I saw an old man throw two fist-sized objects over a high hedge. They may have been yellow or orange... Now the pigeons have gone too.

A guy called Matt commented on this blog's previous post. His comment inspired this post. Cheers Matt. I saw a squirrel running across the road before. Don't worry it made it. Sometimes I see squirrels in the park playing with the pigeons. Sometimes cute little vignette is visible from where I am sitting right now. On my sofa in the living room. I can't see any squirrels BUT a magpie just ran across the stage. It's gone now... Now there are two more magpies and two yellow dogs. The best yellow dog is Jake from Adventure Time. Jake's voice is Bender's voice.

This blog post is finished now, but I'm going to follow it up with another post, a piece of a story I wrote. It's not finished but it made me laugh, and I'm not doing anything with it at the moment so I might as well throw it into the world: HERE it is, it's called 'My Band'