Old Hell versus New Hell.
On Saturday night I posted to my Social’s this, “Its Saturday night and I’m Out – Like Out-OUT! It blew up well, it was well-liked immediately.
These days, Saturday night is my Single Girl Date Nite when I go off-grid and watch films or try to.
This Saturday I was OUT; I went to see a band I’d like since my days of working in clubs back in the 90’s. I’d not ever seen this band live. The gig had been rescheduled three times due to the Plague. Damn Plague and finally it was here. I should point out back in my club days, I was lucky to be home two nights a week, now I’m lucky to go out two nights a year. God, I feel old.
Preparation to get out in the dark (I can’t see in the dark, if you recall) starts earlier than normal and the ritual of getting ready to go out is harder due to that only doing the ritual twice a year. The Ritual being the excitement of getting ready, choosing an outfit. The make-up, etc, etc. and the pre-event tunes.
Anyway, once near the venue my friend dropped me at a corner to wait while she parked down a side-street, so I didn’t need to navigate dark streets and uneven terrain. While waiting some twenty-somethings walked past stating “what’s with all the old people out tonight?” Grrr, can’t be talking about me.
Sorry, I digress, once at the venue, my tickets not appearing to be on the door, I left my name and they were happy to let us in. The venue manger introduced himself and I will give him a Pseudonym as I do everyone, I hope he appreciates it. Both for privacy and a play on words. Let’s call him Sriracha. You know the hot sauce? I’m not into chilli and I can say, I need to get out more, even though I hit sensory overload really early.
Anyway, Sriracha lead my friend and I through the band room to a corner of the back where there was a raised area, he bought us two stools to perch on and told us if we needed anything, any of the staff could call him for me. My friend did the drinks run and had a little boogie beside me. She also got me my T-Shirt before my size sold out.
Annoyingly, being height-challenged I could get up onto the stool but it was still the right way to go. At concerts and Gigs I’m a wriggler as well as a light Head-Banger (Not the Heavy Metal kind) I’m not a dancer, even before my disability. Not after I found I could not do the Melbourne shuffle. Makes sense as I do have a Drop Foot.
Here is a link for the first song from my early club days in about ’92. Get ready for some Samples. This is in no way an advert for fast food, but still very catchy.
This song, I believe is German but translates as “I am a foreigner” You can look up what it’s about if you are interested. I travelled around the UK on my only overseas trip back in ’94 to this, good times.
This was their last song before they finished with a cover of the Prodigy paying homage to Keith Flint who passed away in 2019. Prodigy was also a huge influence in all the clubs I went to or worked for in the 90’s.
It’s frustrating for me to need to explain to people who have only known me since my diagnosis and my disability that there was a different version of Helen, who experienced a different culture, lifestyle or had different social networks. That Helen is still inside me and is sassy, outspoken and won’t be pushed around. they just don’t want to be exposed to the great things that I experienced to appreciate this version of Helen they see today; they just want to stay with the normal and what they already know. Not learn anything new.
Friendly reminder, while working in clubs I barely drank, never did party drugs, possibly the only reason I made it to 34 before learning of my AVM. My disability as I like to remind people is NOT SELF INFLICTED.
Was home by 1am, still had chores to do after my friend helped take off my shoes and my AFO (Ankle Foot Orthotic), needed a stiff cuppa T, a Bex and a good lie down. Oh, I’m a 50’s housewife.
I feel a bit like if I didn’t get the Plague Saturday night I’m bulletproof. Still not had it, still not complaining.
Now, late Monday night I’m still catching up so apologies for my delay. Lastly, Queen Elizabeth II, may she R.I.P.