The Magic Pub

Another chapter of life unfolds… and the next is fleeting already of course. There it goes… I have decided to open a rather wizardly public house…The magic pub… Pick a drink, any drink…And your money disappears…Saturation in frequenting this imagined tavern throws up illusions of friends, mirages of good times and you notice your dignity, genuine relationships and remnants of self-respect too have vanished…How absurdly morbid and unnecessary this all is, though a fair shade lighter than what I had been thinking of penning…When I was roughly eight years old I attempted a live magic show…the performance culminated in the daft though rather unanticipated realisation, that I didn’t even know enough tricks for a full set…Oh dear…I think I’d butchered afew of the effects as well and been heckled by a mate which didn’t help, but I recall physically disintegrating and hiding behind the makeshift stage I had built… Buried in schoolboy shame…I prefer not to remember if any applause followed…In any case a failed magician never reveals his exit strategy…

I do intend to start jogging though. I hear there is cash money to be made. Well, I’ve noticed from observing the television, that vast crowds will gather, hand me free bottles of water and bestow medals upon me…Wonderful…In Stroud me and my pal Ash (the last skinhead in Stroud) would sometimes play ‘chase the joggers,’ which would involve, well, chasing distressed joggers.. Healthy taunting… The game occurred primarily in the park or by the canal or in the woods. How funny we thought we were, tipsily mocking those running and yet now I find myself pleading for the runners’ amnesty…Will I be welcomed in the lycra community of sweat bands and short shorts? The answer to this and many more sporting revelations await me…

Talking of the woods, I look forward to creating some fires there once more… I have missed that greatly. We’d often pass out inebriated by the waning flames and awaken to dog walkers and the like. I once came to with some critter or another licking my face. Generic dog? Domesticated rodent? Stray Sasquatch? Or a giant feline variety? The infamously illusive local panther ‘Big Cat’ perhaps?… The answer will never be revealed as I was too British, (and desensitised by ale) to even bat it off. If I wait and keep my lids sealed it will surely go away I chanced?… This habitual tactic has been employed since when facing many an obstacle in life… Eyes closed and hoping for the nightmare to dissolve. Works every time. Except of course, it doesn’t. But you knew that already. Didn’t you?…

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