No, Bean one! Sam Beam, of Iron & Wine fame. It was after a secret gig at The Spitz, which is unfortunately due to close apparently. Sam's probably the closest thing I have to a modern-day music hero, so I was properly stoked to say hello and shake the man's hand and pass a few words before I turned into a babbling word salad.
What a lovely, kindly/twinkly eyed fella! And such lovely, red, long lustrous locks!
Shendor lucked out, pussing out straight after the gig and muttering something about a (ahem!) 5 o'clock start. A flying hog to catch, or some such.
The next night, the 10th August saw friends' band The Throwbacks playing a local pub. I had my 'DJing' debut (playing songs off a laptop that is) under my stage name Mumblin' Jim. Those in the know will, erm, know that that's Jack Nicholson's character Stoney's band in the rather excellent movie Psychout. It was a hoot, quite a few folk came out for it and much mayhem was had there and after back at ours.
I missed some ramblings over some soggy sherbet, having long since traipsed up the wooden hills to Bedfordshire. Probably just as well - that way I can deny all knowledge that someone had the bright idea to dry it out in our microwave, thus effectively turning our kitchen into a crack factory I guess...
Last week saw an unsettling encounter with a small black child down the sports centre.
There I was, minding me own business, getting changed for the gym and this little boy, about 5 or 6 I'd estimate, came up to me.
"What's your name?" asked he.
"[Name]" replied I, "What's yours?"
"Teo," said he (it was pronounced 'Tay-o'), "I bet you won't remember my name," he challenged me.
"Sure I do, it's 'Teo'," I answered, not sure where this was leading.
"Um, what was your name again?" and I replied once again.
Teo proceeded to quiz me on my T-shirt, the Darth Vader topiary one bestowed upon me by kindly unclef, asking what it was.
"It's Darth Vader. Enjoying his garden. You know Star Wars, right?" Teo nodded his awareness of the film. "He's not all badness and evil," I added.
At this point, as I was swapping the Darth tee for a 'Zilla one given to me by my bro many, many moons ago, Teo ran around the seats in the changing room and stopped in front of me. He muttered something, which I couldn't make out and so had to ask him to repeat himself.
"Can I touch your nipple?" he asked.
At this point my brain crashed, caught somewhere between comical wonderment at a child's innocence/randomness and my adultesque sense that this was a horribly wrong question for a young chap to ask of a complete stranger...
"Erm... No, you can't..." I tried.
"Oh..." Teo seemed genuinely disappointed. "Why?"
"'Cos that's a bit wrong" I added feebly.
At this point his mother burst into the changing room (the male changing room, I might add) and beckoned him out.
Teo ran off and I found myself thinking that if I'd consented to the boy's request, the scene greeting his mother could have been quite different: a young boy, touching a man's nipple under his raised T-shirt... Oh, the horror!
I half expected some sort of fit-up job, that the kid had been primed to touch nipples and that his mum was poised in the wings with a camera to snap any unwary individuals in a compromising situation.
I felt violated, a victim of adultophilia, groomed for nipple touching by a pro.
Now you don't see the Daily Mail crowing on about that now, do you?
