Me and You

Yesterday Today and Probably Tomorrow

Drowning myself in cups of tea, I think back to the previous night. I was suffering from major post gig depression after Bombay.

Van and Larry snook in as the support act, and I bumped into Van during Magnet after some perv tried to feel me up. I got punched in the face by a few rugby blokes a couple of times due to being like 3ft tall. I failed to get a setlist, as the girl next to me snatched it form my hands and their roadie tried to throw me a pick but missed completely. Then, after buying a t-shirt and getting over my lack of setlist, Van and Larry gave me a lift home.

I was supposed to go with Eve, a friend from sixth form, but she had to sell her ticket to go towards paying for her Leeds fest ticket, so I ended up going on my own.

The blood flowed from my cheek as I tried to clean the my cheek with an antibacterial wipe and a plaster. My cheek was cut last night after getting (accidentally) backhanded by a man with a clunky watch. It scabbed over overnight but reopened this morning when I had an itch and forgot about the cut. It was also slightly swollen but nothing an ice pack couldn't heal.

"The gigs you go to are too rough," My brother, Sam, told me, taking a gulp of his tea and turning on Match of the Day, "Just go to like Paolo Nutini and have a good sway or sommat."

"You just can't handle it you weak fuck."

I munched through my coco pops and turned on Jeremy Kyle. I had no more gigs to go to for a month now, where I'd had three gigs in the past two weeks and at least one for the past four months. Now, all I have to look forward to for the next thirty days are days off work and family nights in my mam and dad's club.

Working in the club was my fourth job (after working in the studios, the record shop and topshop - for the discounts), pulling pints and booking gigs at The Forest Club. My uncle described it as this generation's Hacienda.

It opened in '91; my mam and dad quit their teaching jobs to pursue their mutual dream of supporting up and coming bands. Oasis played there in the early 90's, before Supersonic was released; my mam refused to book them for ages because she thought they were shite, but then Noel joined and they began playing every other week. The Courteeners played in their early days, as did the Arctic Monkeys and Jake Bugg did a secret gig here only the other month.

I grew up in the place.

I felt like Amy might be trying to drop hints for me to book Van's band, since decent sized crowds always gather whenever there's a band on and it would be good promotion for them.

She was making me come along to their gig tomorrow night. I didn't mind though, it'll be a riot if their music's as good as they make it out to be.

-

The next morning I was awoken by the dull ringing of my phone. Two things occurred to me when I looked at the screen; I'd slept in till 2 in the afternoon and Amy had tried calling me three times now.

"Alright mate?" I asked, groggily sitting up in my bed.

"Yeah, just letting you know, change of plan for tonight. We're gonna have to set off a bit earlier than planned..."

"Right, when's that?"

"Half 4, so you better get sorted because we have to go to the off license, get some booze and pick up Winnie from the train station," She explained.

"Alright, sound," I said, closing the conversation, being too exhausted to ask any further questions.

I showered and changed into some Man United football shorts and a red knitted jumper. When I got downstairs, I heard the rustling about of bags and shoes clunking on the floor. Mam was home from the Big Friday Shop.