Search

Midlife Crisis. Day 100638. Co-Captains Log

Updated: Jan 2



After another weekend of fantastic live gigs, my ears are ringing, my body aches and my brain seems to have spun itself into a congealed lump of tumble-dryer fluff. BUT, today I had an epiphany... I am an old, porky, grouchy-arsed bitch.

Whilst I appreciate that this is hardly news to many of you, it has come as a bit of a shock to me. I used to be quite a laugh, or at least, I used to laugh quite a lot (I suppose the two aren't technically the same)! These days I only tend to laugh when I see someone hurt themselves, or if I come up with an inventive new swear word.

I've completely given up trying to find any kind of life / work balance. The bar is all life consuming. It's futile to fight it. Even if I decide to stop checking the work email for a couple of hours and get some sleep, I wake up to half a dozen messages on my personal account about bloody gigs/work. And generally it wouldn't bother me, but it just feels relentless... There is no escape!!!


So I've decided to just accept it, roll with the tide and hope that eventually I will make it to shore with some sanity (& without being harpooned).

I do love the bar, I love the people I work with, I love the events, the creative freedom, I even love most of the customers. Although the masked woman today who blatantly shoved a handful of our face masks in her handbag (cos she was "getting low on them at home") was lucky I was too fat and tired to kick her. And thinking about it, all the morons that keep screaming in my face when I deliver drinks to their table: "so do I have to keep using the (incredibly simple) phone app or can you just get my drinks?" can bollock off too. I'm wearing a fogged up face visor that makes lip-reading impossible and the band are midway through a ridiculously loud Rage Against The Machine number, but yes, by all means scream your orders at me, cos even if you dont have covid, I love to get covered in people's spit and Im not really fussed about keeping my eardrums in tact. And if I'm busy, you can always prod me in the arm when I walk past, I love that... Tossers!

With hindsight, I should have probably given the fact I find the general public moronic, tedious scrotum-weasels more consideration before opening an events bar.

Whilst I fully admit that I've never exactly been a "Philadelphia", sunshine and rainbows kind of gal, I think my waning tolerance and increased grouchy-bitch tendencies are mainly because I'm so tired.

I'm physically and mentally exhausted from a combination of trading under crippling restrictions, having skeleton crew and working hours which means a lack of food (not that you'd know it from the size of my arse)... fresh air... a life!

There's the hopelessness and stark realisation that our country is being led by inbred panto-villains. And despite blatantly lining their pockets, starving the poor, killing the arts, banning us plebs from socialising while they quaff sherry & shoot a Muntjack in the face, they will probably still win the next election by shouting a catchy 3 word slogan. And, yes, I know this right wing shitstorm thrives on division and therefore tolerance is key, just unfortunately, my tolerance has skipped off into the sodding sunset, arm in arm with my resilience and sanity. It's like we are living in a fucked up version of Footloose, but if Kevin Bacon dances, someone's Grandma gets sent to ICU.

It's not all doom and gloom. Despite my views about the general public, most people who come into the bar I dont actually want to punch in the danglies and the gigs we have been hosting have been absolutely amazing. I'm not denying it's hard work, but we are one of the very few places that's able to accommodate live music and in these "unprecedented times" music is essential for bringing a bit of hope, joy & escapism (which our government might realise, if they had souls).


So as of next week, we've decided Sod It!!! We are going balls-to-the-wall and are going to open more nights and host even more events (5 a week)! We will need to bring back some staff (else I'm going to die... or at least, the next person who complains about our unisex toilets is going to die)! And whilst this is not going to change the crippling restrictions or end the bollocking pandemic, there's no wizard behind a curtain that's going to give Boris the tin-twat a heart and I'm likely to remain a rotund, crabby, knackered old hellcat, I'm actually genuinely excited about what's to come.