The welsh barman started singing Delilah at me, full pelt, my good friend who sat next to me laughed, I laughed, we were almost in tears of by the chorus. His friends were laughing too, at him. It was a peacock fanning his feathers at a hen, a human mating call involving drink and sounds. It was a true distraction, and though my feathers did not stir, it was good to smile again.
Spending days waiting for something that never came, wondering if I had said something wrong, taken the losing chess move. It was always cryptic, and I was too naive to work it all out.
But in the bar I was laughing, putting bets on a mongoose and drinking gentle ales. Tunes had changed to ‘Run To The Hills’ but for once I didn’t want to. Settling is a very hard thing to do but this town was pulling me off the high-wire and cushioning the fall. For once I was letting it, running is so tiring.
Lost love, a lost tooth and a lost job. All comes in threes.
It makes the winning all the better, when it comes.
And I followed the bluebird home.