Another blurry gig

A visit in the morning to the son’s gaff - we need to get the gas man back is the upshot. Later, much wasting time online before stepping out to the Guildford to meet the A4 crew. Except there was only HB, which was quite grand actually as it had been ages since the two of us had an evening out and he was always one of my best pals at work. Unfortunately we do share certain weaknesses; our inability to say no to another pint being one of them. Anyway, HB was meeting his mate Campbell up the stairs in the Voodoo Rooms as he was fiddling with one Sarah Gallagher, une chanteuse from Inversnecky. There were then another couple of bands - three improbably young lads in sportswear doing strummy stuff and then some character called T-J Connell who was doing his debut album launch. He’d pressed his band into naff matching waistcoats and he had his aunties and grannies and everybody at a couple of tables. I do not predict a meteoric career for the boy. Or, given that a meteor actually falls earthward and ends as a wee cinder, perhaps I should. 
Home to the SK who probably tried to tell me all about her afternoon if she could get a word in, but I do think my garrulousnessnessness would have won out on that one.