Our ‘Lola Boys’ gig on Friday just gone was only our second since we had decided to entertain the good folk of Borneo in an old defunct gold mining settlement. On that evening it was all rather ‘Dodge City’ – and the act – just plain dodgy! Still, we secured a few free drinks and I was presented with a branch of cherry blossom by the handsome owner of the establishment, Dylan.
We did have a wonderful night though and it was strangely exciting to perform in front of such an obviously foreign audience – especially one who were not expecting to see the likes of us. They really coped quite well…
As did the fantastic crowd down on the beach on Friday evening in Southern Spain. The sun shone and the beer flowed even if all of our lyrics did not! It was wonderful to see some old friendly faces, by that I do not mean superannuated – only familiar.
Since then, being thoroughly unused to the eight shows a week we were required to perform when in ‘The West End’ and therefore exhausted – we have started what is known as a health-kick. It feels more like a kick to the testicles at the moment but I am quite sure if we stick with it we shall both be looking better than The Beckhams soon – well, at a distance!
My energy has certainly improved without the obligatory mid-morning ‘Bloody Mary’ – now it’s just a virgin – the first I have had any dealings with for quite some time. Andrew and I are both awake and alert before 8AM – obviously this isn’t a first but we were usually coming at it from the other direction before. We have invested in what is commonly known as a ‘Nutribullet’ – to my mind, a bloody expensive blender, although I must say it seems to be working. I am waking with the constitution of ‘Snow White’ – obviously without the dwarves (well, most mornings!). The look of surprise on our least favourite German neighbour’s face when he caught me recycling at 7.30am yesterday was one you would usually see in A & E. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a coronary though, as I’m quite sure he would be the main reason for me adding a large slug of Smirnoff to my new healthy morning smoothie. Especially when he begins whistling Wagner in his over-manicured garden at 6am – completely out of key I might add!
The first time I heard him I thought our cat was being sexually molested!
An absolutely vile man – who lives with an equally unpleasant partner – both gay – but only in the homosexual term – they certainly aren’t happy!
I can’t think what we’ve done to annoy them – other than to exist!
Oh, and there was one ‘Taylor and Burton’ moment Andrew and I had once that might have added to their extreme disdain towards us both.
After returning from an extremely lively gig one night. I happened to slightly mis-judge a ‘reversing round a corner’ manoeuvre – an easy mistake, especially as the wall was moving slightly! And bang! The masonry had the better of me. Of course, being slightly dramatic, this sparked a rather loud debate between the two of us, culminating with me throwing the mic stands at Andrew in the middle of the road. Something I’m not proud to admit, especially as they were quite pricey!
But hey, these things happen now and then, and it was certainly more entertaining than the ‘The Ring Cycle’ that Herr Hideous expectorates each morning – and an awful lot shorter!
This discontented couple even called la policia to our door one evening when we happened to have a few friends over and were merrily playing the piano. Luckily, this back-fired, as the copper was an old friend of mine from our ’Lola’s Show-bar’ days, for reasons I had better not digress. After all, we are both members of ‘L.A.’ – ‘Lola’s Anonymous’ – and what happened in my dressing room that night can never be revealed! So, of course, the said lawman wasn’t the slightest bit angry, not only did he have fond memories of our brief ‘cabaret’ but he was also a Gershwin fan and would no doubt have stayed for a drink had he not had other duties to which he needed to attend!
It is just our luck to live next door to the unfriendliest couple of miserable gits on the street. They have shown absolutely know interest in attempting to be neighbourly. This doesn’t, however, prevent them from peeking through their ‘Bottlebrush’ to catch a glimpse of us sunning ourselves when ‘smuggling our budgies’ attempting to acquire a suntan! They are obviously keen ‘birdwatchers’ – which is ironic. Still – as they say – ‘there’s nowt so queer as folk’ – and these two are even queerer than us! So, with this newfound boundless ante meridian energy and bluebirds buzzing around my head, I decided to take a drive to Marbella. Actually, I had a doctors’ appointment for, shall we say, a boy’s problem, so it was a trip I needed to take – for once! And any excuse to escape the Teutonic tunelessness of next door is always an excuse for a morning escapade. I took to the road, relaxed and happy, Barbra singing ‘The Way We Were’on the CD player – life was good – for two minutes …. – until I reached the first roundabout! It has always puzzled me, having now spent much time in Andalucia, that the art of negotiating this quite simple piece of road planning should always be so troublesome. Rather than the easy, considerate solution to a junction, every time I use one of these circular contraptions it reminds me of being on a white knuckle ride at Eurodisney – in fact, much worse! Instead of decelerating in the normal manner, most drivers here seem to speed up on approach to the said ‘rotonda’, then choose the most inappropriate lane for the route they wish to take and if they are able, cut you up closer than a Gillette razor whilst exiting!
By the time we had managed to get back onto the main road both Ms Streisand and I were breathless – which is quite unusual for her! Heart still pounding, I was then forced to break harder than Lewis Hamilton going into a hairpin bend when a hard-faced ginger woman decided to join the motorway ten feet in front of me. There was nowhere for me to go, as two speeding juggernauts were in the other lane obviously participating in the Spanish version of ’The Cannonball Run’ and completely blocking my escape route.
Had our dodgy Opal Zafira had airbags airbags I am quite sure they would have deployed, a la Dolly Parton, and I would have had a face-full –
not for the first time, admittedly, but really, is this how the ‘Highway Code’ works here in Spain – or does such a publication even exist?
Having asked myself this question, I have now done a little research and have been assured there is a Highway Code here – even if most drivers prefer to follow the rules of the highwayman! I came across this diagram posted on the internet by our very reputable insurance company, Ibex, here in Spain – advice that apparently comes direct from the government in Madrid.
There you go – that should be clearer now – in a roundabout way!
On the way back from the ‘quack’ having been furnished with good news, my blood pressure and pulse rate were just about returning to normal and Ms Streisand was back on form – but only for a short interlude. Just after passing Estepona, a group of fifteen or more cyclists decided to join the dual carriageway, some of them three abreast – laughing and chatting as if they were pedalling nonchalantly down a remote country lane. This idiotic pack forced me to swerve into the faster lane to avoid them – thankfully empty, this time. An evil part of me had a strong desire to just clip the wheels of the ugly fat one at the back of the group and de-saddle him, but I knew this would be immoral – plus, out of all of them – he needed the exercise! What is going on? – The N340 is not part of ’The Tour De Bloody France’ or am I mistaken ? Should these bi-wheeled,blabbering, bastards be allowed to put others lives at risk just in order to strengthen their quadriceps? By the time I reached home I felt as though I needed another appointment with the doctor. It was a dreadful and genuinely life threatening experience – both Barbra and I felt the same – she’s even thinking of changing her lyrics –
To – ‘The Way We Nearly Weren’t?!