HBG

It's Friday night and I'm stuck indoors, in the heat, looking after two demanding dogs and a slightly less demanding wife. It wasn't always like that.

When I was much younger, Friday was pay day, get changed as quickly as possible and off to the pub to meet your mates, and go hunting for crumpet once the blood was roused.

In later years, it was still boys night out after a hard week's work, sometimes forgetting about family responsibility for a few happy hours.

And now? I can hear Eastenders starting next door, the dogs are getting impatient for me to play with them, and only a few glasses of wine on the hot terrace beckon.

If I had the bottle, I would put on my best gear, shorts and a vest, and wander around some local pubs to try and relive the Friday nights of the past.

Am I man or mouse? Well, I like cheese.

Lynn R

Oh, I can remember those long-ago Friday nights too - not the same ones as you, though, no need to worry!

When I first started work I got paid in cash each Friday and would hit the shops before going home to buy a new outfit to go clubbing in (couldn't possibly wear the same one twice!). I was always in trouble with my Mum for spending too much on clothes and my little brother would wait on the doorstep to grass me up, shouting "Mum, she's coming, and she's got some more bags" - little rat.

Then it was 2 hours to get ready (more like 5 minutes now, I know when I'm flogging a dead horse) before meeting up with my girlfriends, often the milkman had been round in the morning before I got home. Then there were the Northern Soul All Nighters where we went straight to the swimming baths on a Sunday morning after leaving Wigan Casino. It's a rare night nowadays that I see midnight. Sad, sad, sad.

HBG

Christ Lynn, I never thought that girls would feel the same way.

If I had had the bottle to go out tonight, I would have gone to the nearest Brit bar, five minutes walk away, to watch the lady singer, with a beautiful voice and an enormous bum.

The Brit bar next door is full of widows with longing looks.

The Spanish bar next door has a Russian barmaid who is also a pornstar in her spare time.

I'm going to miss out the next bar because it's a gay one and not my scene.

Another five minutes walk away would take me to a Brit bar where people get incredibly drunk and try to sing on a karaoke machine, lying down.

The jewel of the crown is the Spanish bar next door. I get on really well with the manageress, but her Spanish boyfriend is extremely jealous and has threatened me several times already.

You say sad, sad, sad. I agree.

jimenato

I'd go for the widows if I were you, they'd be ever so grateful.

HBG

I hate to say this, but they're not as good looking as the barmaid of a pub in Dalston that I fell in love with many years ago. She was a Cape Coloured from Cape Town, beautiful as the day is long.

I can't even think of her name, prat as I am, I should have got a divorce and married her. If I bumped into her now. the dogs would have to get someone else to throw their balls for them.

HBG

**** that I am, her name was Pam.

HBG

Her name was Pam. If you're out there girl, and remember the Railway Inn at Dalston, I love you still.

steviedeluxe

I'm staggered that HBG is making such big confessions tonight..

I mean... Dalston!

jimenato

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

A pretty woman makes her husband look small
And very often causes his downfall.
As soon as he marries her
Then she starts to do
The things that will break his heart.
But if you make an ugly woman your wife,
You'll be happy for the rest of your life,
An ugly woman cooks her meals on time,
She'll always give you peace of mind.

HBG

Dalston. Hackney, Haggerston (that will make you think), Custom House, Canning Town, those are real places incomers don't recognise.

I want to get back to Pam from Dalston. Please get in touch. I'm the big guy from Epping Forest.

VFR

Dalston ?
I can remember going to the pictures before it was turned into (many years later) the Four Aces, also asking the nice Jamaincan people who started the first stall Black stall in Ridley Road market what those funny looking vegetables were that they were selling (yams)

Never knew Pam mind, but friday night was Tottenham Royal night once working & before that it was normally spent roller skating at Ally Pally.

fionamw

Ally Pally Now you're talking. Possibly not the same decade - we're talking Tom Robinson, rock against racism, the fire, etc........., but at least proper norf London............

HBG

The Four Aces and the Royal? It's making my heart sing, One, two, three? Dave Clarke couldn't sing, but he could play the drums.

Still having many friends there, I went back to Dalston some years ago. I found that the place had turned black, not that I have a problem with that. I went into McDonalds at the corner of Ridley Road and Kingsland High Street and watched the scene outside.

I've never been to Kingston but will one day. Anyway, on that day, I was there. I suppose I was looking for Pam, she used to live in Ridley Road, down the bottom end.

Saturday mornings inevitably follow Friday nights, I remember the suffering and guilt. I'm free of it now, bored silly in the sun. We're going to walk to our favourite coffee place later and possibly stuff ourselves in a Wok buffet. I'll still be looking out for Pam.

HBG

I remember Ally Pally, before the fire. They used to have horse racing there and I watched Lester Piggot riding a red hot favourite. As he approached the winning post he was pulling the horse's head so hard that it was facing the other way.

A crowd of us waited for him after the race, but he escaped in a helicopter.

fionamw

The first Great British Beer Festival, too.... ah the delights of being a reporter paid to cover such an event