I am off being a proper poet right now – more blogging on this later.  Meanwhile; the overdue post about Grantham…. 🙂

So, Grantham.  A little background: my friend Gary is a DJ.  Quite a good one actually having DJ’d at various places including Pascha, Ibiza and venues locally as well as….Grantham.

He’s been trying to get me to Dj again almost as long as he’s known me.  I used to Dj professionally for about 10 or 12 years.  Lots of places, lots of different gigs from village hall to huge and swanky venue, even the Cafe Royal and The Hilton International Park Lane (where I was a DJ in a DJ if you see what I mean).

I stopped when the urge to kill all the punters got to the point where I almost couldn’t resist it.  🙂

So anyway, superstar DJ managed to persuade me to nip off to Grantham for the weekend to pull a couple of gigs at his regular haunt (The Playhouse) which is owned by a mate of his – an ex-Milton Keynes lad.

Saturday was a regular evening gig.  Lots of funky house, lots of club mix versions of chart stuff and some classics.

Weird things went on, like people in odd clothing…

and the evening wore on and on in the same vein.  In general it was fine.  Gary was amazing.  I am hypercritical of other DJs – always hate discos because I’m so arrogant I rarely think the poor DJ is doing a good job.

Saturday brought out the odd people.  Several hen parties and a group of lads in zoot suits.  We asked but never received an explanation of why they were dressed like 1920s New Orleans pimps.  Freaky.

Every so often drunken Grantham lads would try their luck on the punchbag machine.  The more drunk they get the more they try to wack this thing through the wall of the pub.  It was about 3 feet from the left-hand side of the decks.  Loud.  Loud.  Loud.

Gary punched the highest score despite being the size of a large elf.  He claims it’s down to technique and practice…but he only tells me that, he just says “and I’m only a little guy” to the lads trying to beat him.  🙂

We crashed the night above the pub with Gary having a bed and me crunching myself up on a very small setee.

Morning came and after bacon sarnies and lots of me talking to the landlord’s 4 month-old daughter Gary and I skipped off downstairs and played pool.  What do DJs do on a Sunday morning?  They play pool and beat the computer programmer…very comprehensively.  🙂

Like the Murphy’s, I’m not bitter.

We took a stroll around and went to the 3 Mobile shop and Gary bought a Skype phone from 3.  This was mainly because I’d bought one a week earlier and was extolling the virtues of being about to call “people in other countries for free”.  I can definitely recommend it if you have friends in far-flung places, America, for example, because you can literally speak to them for as long as you want without charge..saving loads of cash, which is always nice.

It was a fun weekend and next week I am *actually* going to be doing some DJing at my step-daughter’s 21st birthday – mainly a “party set”.

Meanwhile…back to being a poet…in the rain…


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