June 24, 2012
There's a man, a tall man, who lives down the road from us in West Kirby, which for those non-Wirral dwellers is a mile down a meandering, leafy, stupidly well-heeled road from Hoylake.
It's a road stacked to the brim with paper millionaires, the kind of people who park their Mercedes 4x4s in disabled parking spots and wear make-up in the bath.
They don't own hoovers, delight in watching an old man clip their lawns, feign an absorbing interest in tennis, absolutely love living near a golf club, and have no idea how to boil an egg.
Thankfully, not everyone around here is like that.
Take the tall man, for instance. He sings, and plays, like this:
His name is David Bob Picken. He's 33 years young.
I can't pretend to have met him before last night, but my other half Annie has known him for years, as he's a close friend of her nieces and nephews, who can also play a bit.
A bit like this, actually:
Oh, and these fellas, too, who are apparently familiar with the workings of what I believe they call the hit parade:
The reason we all happened to be in the same premises is that David - dare I call him Bob? Fuck it, yes I will - very recently discovered he has quite an aggressive brain tumour.
Now, my oldest friend in the world and I would refer to a discovery like that as an FBD - a Fucking Bad Downer. Which it is, isn't it?
But if Bob thinks it's an FBD, then he's doing a superb job of not showing it.
Last night, he grinned as LOADS of people gathered for this.
Quite extraordinary to see these top muso types performing at an intimate venue for free, you might suppose - until you realise that on the night, they're not being top muso types, but they are being ridiculously talented boys and girls being a bloke's mates.
Occasional readers will be aware that I cheerfully know bugger all about music. But I do know a little about friendship.
And - despite a brief electricity-lite interlude thanks to our amazing British summer - there was Ready Brek-style friendship glowering out of The Coda Maine last night.
I wonder how many of those bland people sat staring at their deep-pile rugs on Meols Drive ever experience a friendship like that?
Or, indeed, ever put their hands in their swollen pockets to help someone out?
Last word to Bob, who put this up on Facebook this morning:
Secondly to all the bands that played throughout the day, what a day for music, i enjoyed every moment of it so cheers for coming down!!
And last to everyone who came down. Your support has been overwhelming and this tumour i have which i've named Justin Bieber by the way cos he's just as annoying i will continue to fight and your support before last night and last night will help me do that so a huge thank you for being there last night.
Love you all,