A Message to You.....

Sorry about the lack of any action on the old blog lately, but it was another hectic weekend, followed by a Bank Holiday. Nothing much out of the ordinary occurred the first couple of days. A night out down the George Friday and family stuff on the Saturday. It was Sunday that was primed for excitement, as me and my brother and some old friends met up with the Mercenary and took a trip down memory lane....

Now to those of you under 35, a Rude Boy is probably some annoying chav kid who lives up the road, but for those of you approaching 40 and aged beyond, it was a catch all name used to describe the followers of Ska music during the late 70's and early 80's. The record label behind this movement was 2-tone records, and the top band was without a shadow of doubt, The Specials. Well after splitting up about 25 odd years ago, the old pension plan needed topping up, and a reunion tour was announced. So this Sunday we made our way over the Pennines to see our teenage heroes in the flesh at the Appollo in Manchester. After having fortified ourselves with several pints of Guinness, we arrived at the boozer next to the venue. It was still early, and myself and Big Al managed to meet guitarist Lynval Golding, before grabbing a spot outside the boozer for a few pre gig pints. Coach loads were starting to show up now, spilling legions of Fred Perry wearing, Doctor Martined middle aged Rude Boys into the area outside of the pub. These guys must be single handily keeping these two companies afloat. I haven't seen ox blood coloured boots for decades...

The Appollo it self had seen slightly better days, I imagine, but this rickety old flea pit was the perfect setting for a band whose hey day were in the dole infested days of Maggie Thatcher. If the place looked a little ragged, the acoustics most certainly weren't. The warm up was above average, and everybody found their seats. The chap in front of me, a mild mannered fellow a couple of years my senior I would guess, proceeded to warn me that he was going to be up and dancing from the off. I assured him I had no problems at all with this, but was in for a shock when the Specials came on stage. He was quite possibly the worst dancer in the world. Ever. Now I appreciate as the the years roll by that we can't be expected to throw down the shapes of our salad days, but this guy appeared to be moving to the sound of a completely different band. I caught the eye of the guy behind me, and he too seemed hypnotised by the out of time swayings of our fellow Rude Boy. Luckily the Specials were brilliant, and after the first song, the novelty of the dancing buffoon faded. Terry Hall, the lead singer never moved about much, but then he never did, but the rest threw themselves about the stage. All the best hits were played, and the encore of "Too much too young" and "Long shot kick the bucket" brought the house down. I thought my little dancing buddy in front was going to explode he was that excited. I had waited a long time to see them play live, they never played Bradford, and my mum wouldn't let me go further afield at the age of 14, and they didn't disappoint. God I wish I was 15 again.....

PS Does anybody know where I can buy a Harrington Jacket? I feel a mid life crisis coming on.