The Eejit

Chapter 11 - The Ballad of North Street

Chapter 11 – The Ballad of North Street

I woke up uncharacteristically early in the morning the day after the Town and Country show, unable to contain a feeling of unusual joy and a sense of excitement about what incredible things my burgeoning music journey might throw up next and I didn't have to wait long either. That night I played a pre - arranged gig at the Nags Head on North St Battersea. Last night I had played to nearly 4,000 people. My audience tonight was more select and comprised the ever- cheerful landlord, Kevin, Marie who was Kevin's wife and 4 elderly members of his family, whose visit to London from Co Longford had coincided with my booking.

Despite my all too sudden crash landing back on Planet Earth, there was a big change tonight. The Nags Head was one of my regular Battersea gigs; it was next door to the Tea Rooms and sat at the foot of North Street which led to Bully (just on the Rectory Grove / North Street peel off), The Sun Inn where I also played but no so much and finally The Prince of Wales in Clapham Old Town at the top of North Street, where I drank. I would drink in all the other places too of course, but that was work drinking. The Prince was recreational drinking.

Normally when I played in their pubs, the landlords of Clapham would pay me no specific regard, save for seeing that I arrived on time, played for the allotted time, played specific rebel and traditional songs, that I took my liquor in an orderly manner and left without starting a major incident. They were busy people and this laissez faire attitude suited me fine. I had sought advanced permission to take sufficient leave of absence to do the tour and each of the landlords in question had been endearingly supportive, each claiming a degree of patronage in my burgeoning 'career', which to be fair to them, wasn't far from the truth. These people, their families and their customers, had been supporting my development with a quiet generosity for some time. They endured my inconsistency and learning curve with munificence and patience for nearly 2 years. I had been taken into their pub families and they had shown me a level of respect and kindness I had seldom experienced in previous jobs.

On this night however, as I set up my small but heavy PA system and plugged in the various pluggy - in things, I noticed a change. Far from paying me no regard, Kevin, Marie and the 4 elderly relatives from Co Longford sat in a row and watched me play with an unnerving attention that was strangely more challenging than any gig from the Tour I'd just come off. They listened intently to all my songs, with Kevin and Marie only taking their leave to impatiently serve the odd punter who came in for a pint.

That night I played for hours and when I'd finished playing, Kevin plied me with more liquor and I played more. Somewhere in the darkness of this session, Kevin let slip that he and Marie had been up to the Town and Country Club the night before and their relatives had delayed their return to Ireland to hear me play. I was completely overwhelmed. Running a pub for the Irish diaspora in south London in 1991 required a landlord with a steely resolve and a hardened heart. It required an ability to socialize beyond the norm whilst exercising self - control with the stock; it also required fists of iron, the courage to swing them and the wisdom to know when not to. It required detachment and discipline. Every now and then, however a big, warm, tattooed arm would reach out and pat you on the shoulder and you would melt at the touch. This was such an occasion and I remember this just as fondly as any of the preceding tour dates with The Alarm.

In addition to my pub gigs, I was able to add to my bread and butter with a regular truck driving job for a local telecommunications company called Lynton. Lynton was owned by a charming but roguish man in his 30's called Paddy Dodd - Noble. Paddy was an old Etonian and very posh too. He was Irish on his mothers side and we found commonality in that if nowhere else. His mother's maiden name was Flower and his aunt had been called Coleen. We would laugh at this because it meant she would have been known by wags as Collie Flower, which was amusing to us in a school boyish way. It made me laugh. I mention this because Paddy had the good sense to employ my very great and long time friend Jacquie Mackenzie.