My name is JD and I am a Singaholic. There I’ve said it. I am not ashamed of it but sometimes I just can’t help myself. You know how it is, a few relaxing drinks in convivial company and I have the urge to sing a song.
This is typically how it happens: Leaving work one day with my colleague Pepe, we went for a drink and then we had another one and in another bar we had… well eventually we ended up in a PianoBar. Very posh. Not our usual habitat.
After a while I heard the pianist tinkling away on the ivories … terrible cliché, I can’t believe I wrote that. Anyway his tinkling turned into Spanish Harlem, the Ben E King song. So I joined in and then Pepe joined in but with the Spanish words. The pianist visibly perked up and played with a bit more zest. He enjoyed it. No doubt he went home that night and said to his wife ‘Guess what happened at work today….’
So for my nostalgic memories why not sing along with me ……….
Another bar. Another city. I was talking to a lovely young American lady I had only just met and we talked about I know not what and for no reason we were singing together a chorus or two from the song Summertime. I can’t remember her name, I’m not sure if she told me her name. Such things are not immediately important but I never saw her again after that evening.
Two people meet. They sing together in perfect harmony and then go their separate ways. Who said there was no romance in the world today?
So whoever you were and wherever you are now, thank you for a very pleasant evening and would you care to reprise our duet and sing along with me once more…….
A friend of mine, a Glaswegian, would become more and more eloquently erudite with each passing dram and he too was fond of warbling away. His favourite song was Jesus Loves Me delivered as enthusiastically as if he were still in sunday school. Many a barman could be seen shaking his head and muttering Dios mio.
But the star in all this was another Glaswegian friend, RK. He had an impressive repertoire and after a certain point he was unstoppable. One night he was in full flow and we were sitting outside the bar and it was about 2 or 3 in the morning and Juan, the owner, was trying to close for the night bustling away clearing bottles and glasses, wiping tables and he was saying, ‘Shut up go home come back tomorrow.’
I wasn’t singing. RK didn’t need any help. I was just beguiled by this unfolding pantomime. Exasperation took hold and Juan grabbed the source of all the noise by the collar and dragged him across the pavement to the open door of his bar and pushed him ever so gently through it.
So there you have it. Quite possibly the only man in the world to be thrown into a bar for being drunk and disorderly.
Please, if you feel the need, come and join Singaholics Anonymous now. You will lose your dignity as well as your inhibitions but you will help to make the world a happier place.
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