As far as adventures go this one influenced my life considerably. I was just browsing my Facebook page when a message popped up from a damsel in distress. A Miss Ailie Wallace. She had a spare ticket going for a concert in Glasgow. The band was called Goat. She didn’t have a concert companion to chum her through because she had recently split up with her boyfriend. Who, according to Ailie, was being an arsehole about it.
I was first in the queue for a response to her query. I knew Ailie from working with her in my not-too-distant past. There was a social scene in Falkirk where people recited poetry and prose and we just bumped into each other at one of the gigs we attended. The singer sounded like Melanie Safka according to Ailie. I’d have to agree because I bought the CD of her greatest hits out of curiosity. That alone was a great wee concert. Especially because I’d made a new friend.
I have to be honest about my feelings towards Ailie. I had a crush on her from the moment I started talking to her. She was all the things good men say about beautiful women. A Goddess with a mesmerising mind. She could inspire the Titanic to rise up out of the ocean and set sail again. I always played it cool in her company. Hiding my crush. I had to. She was already spoken for.
But still we passed like ships in the night at poetry gigs and such. I was lucky enough to have an art studio which doubled as a writing workshop once a month. Ailie attended for a little while. I asked her to proofread my memoirs Red Pill Memories, so a business relationship developed out of that, but life took its turn, and Ailie became pregnant, and things drifted into realms of motherhood. Ailie left the writing group, but she still managed to finish proofreading my book.
Four years passed before the invitation to the Goat concert surfaced on Facebook. As I’ve said before I was first in the queue for the ticket. I also had a secret agenda. I’d written nine chapters of a new book, a work of fiction this time, and Ailie’s mind was required for feedback and possibly employment, but the most important thing was to have some fun with Ailie. I don’t get out much, since the Falkirk Town Hall got demolished, so it was going to be a little adventure. A drive to her hometown. A trip on the train through to Glasgow. The subway and a quick walk to the venue: Queen Margaret’s Union.
I’d never heard of the band Goat before, so I had YouTubed them for a gander at their patter. They were definitely a psychedelic festival band. My youth was full of clubbing and Djing over the years, but I was open to explore any kind of music because of it in my later years. I explored the venue and bought Ailie wine and water for myself. The sound system looked banging. The venue didn’t take long to fill up with adoring fans. Who mulled about waiting for the support group to come on. They were called Japanese TV. Never heard of them to be truthful but all bands have to start somewhere I suppose. A few people danced. The sound system blared, and you could feel the base making your heart pump.
I was driving when we got home so I abstained from any alcoholic beverages. The support band played on and then there was a break between acts. We were sitting down on the few seats available beside each other. About half an hour passed until Goat came on in their costumes and masks. That was their thing. Costumes, masks, and indie music. During that half hour we chatted about how cool it was to be here, and then Ailie did the most amazing thing. She casually put her arm in mine for a few minutes. For me it was like being zapped by a defibrillator. I was basically romantically dead before that happened but Ailie’s life force rekindled feelings which have lay dormant in me for years. I mean, I was of the opinion that even I wouldn’t go out with me because I’m diabetic and bipolar, plus I’m 53. If you were to play romantic top trumps with me, I would be on the bottom of the pile with nil points to do battle with. But zap the and the Titanic had set sail into the oceans of hope. Well for at least three minutes before it sank again when she thought better of putting her arm in mine.
Goat came on about half an hour after Japanese TV. They were much better than expected. I even danced awkwardly in the middle of the crowd for a few songs. I find it impossible to dance to guitar music, but happiness overruled common sense once again in my life. Goat were much better than I expected. Absolutely rocking in fact. Ailie danced and I danced embracing the psychedelic music pulsing through our veins.
As the night finished up, I offered to buy Ailie some merchandise for the ticket and the great and fantastic adventure we’d been on simply because of one random hit on Facebook. She picked a Goat T-shirt out that she liked. It made me happen to give her a gift. We could hardly speak on the way back home, we were that biffed with tiredness and our ears were buzzing. I never had the courage to charm her heart at the end of the night. Plus, I’ve always had the utmost respect for her boundaries so there was no kiss goodnight for me on the cards, but more concert companion adventures are on the map somewhere. We’re chatting. Exchanging favourite books and who knows what’s going to happen when I set sail on the ocean of hope again.