Unexpected pleasures

I can die a happy woman. I have played on the beach; eaten Welsh ice cream; walked over not-so-Little Orme in sunshine, showers and rainbows; seen two live bands re-formed since my youth; and walked/danced 31,745 steps (at this point, the watch refused to count any more). Oh, and I also drank Bacardi and Coke because I got stuck in the time machine. Tell me, is Margaret Thatcher still Prime Minster? Is the Royal Navy on its way to the Falkland Islands?

Ok, where to begin? The long-suffering V and I took the public bus to Rhos-on-Sea. I had a notion that there was a beach there, and it was possible to walk back to Llandudno. Both two hunches proved correct, and there were also upmarket shops, charity shops, a very cool pop-up coffee bar in a wine shop, and an ice-creamery. The beach was sandy, so we sat on it and I built a little stone circle while V buried her feet. We could have stayed there all day, apart from the fact that I wanted to walk, so we hiked along the promenade and the beach until we had to acend to the coastal path. After viewing the seals on the beach in Angel Bay, we realised that we had to go over the top of Little Orme by following a series of pathways and sheep tracks. It was strenuous, because the rain came down and made the rocky paths slippery, but we enjoyed the walk, which took a good few hours. We saw sheep, lambs, rainbows, and distant views of mountains unfolding into the distance. I was deliriously happy, even in the rain. 

Eventually when he hit the road and the outskirts of Llandudno, I suggested we pop into the Venue ( arts centre) for coffee/cake. I wondered if perhaps there might be something on there that night. Something more exciting than Bingo, perhaps. 

Be  still, my beating heart! There were only TWO bands on, and we could hear them doing their sound check! The first was From the Jam (original Jam members Bruce Foxton, Rick Buckler and... some others), supported by The Skids, from sunny Dunfermline. I nearly died. I insisted that we bought tickets, and we had a coffee. V grew up in South Africa during the Apartheid era, so she didn't see many international acts, and anyway...the Jam? The Skids? I tried to explain the difference between punk, mod and rock music, but she doesn't get it. To her it's all rock, with bands wearing different clothes. It was like trying the explain these things to my granny. I could write a whole essay about The Jam, and I could have taken a Scottish 'O' grade in 1980 on the lyrics of the Setting Sons album, but V hasn't seen Quadrophenia (the film about mods and rockers, set in Brighton 194) and doesn't even mind!

So, we rushed back to the hotel, showered, got dressed up, bolted our dinner, and rushed back out again. We had seats in the circle, because I didn't know if Welsh audiences are allowed to mosh (they are) so the bands were far away, but I could still stand up and dance in my row. 

I last saw The Skids in Edinburgh at the Odeon October 2, 1980, and The Jam at the Playhouse, Edinburgh on April 4, 1982 (remembering dates is my superpower). We have all put on a bit of weight and lost some height on our hairstyles since then, but my goodness! We can all still dance. Especially Richard Jobson of The Skids. He dances like a boxer doing forty rounds. Amazing.  I'm 60 so he must be even older, if I first saw him when I was 16. What a blast from the past! The sound was not the best, but I was happy and so was the rest of the audience. I think some had come from Liverpool. We were all mature, apart from some youngsters who had been dragged along with their parents. The (almost) Jam played the whole of the All Mod Cons album. I'm a bit atypical in that Setting Sons is the one I know best, but they did play Eton Rifles and Heatwave from that one. Am I boring you yet? It's just that I was a mahoosive fan of the Jam, it wasn't about fancying the guys, it was their lyrics. I still think about the words often, forty-plus years later. What do you mean, I'm weird?

When we returned to the hotel, there was a creepy singer on who reminded me of the 70s in a sort of Jimmy Savile way, but we still felt like dancing and V doesn't know Jimmy Savile, so we had a drink and a dance, and that is how I clocked up three million steps and went a bit deaf (it was the bands, not the creepy singer). I remember being quite deaf after seeing the Jam 42 years ago, but I'd also just lost a contact lens, so that must have been more disorientating. I wonder if I still have my £1 concert programme from 1982? 


I must try to sleep now, after this epic day. The clocks have just leapt forward. That means that the people in the room above me will be getting up in approximately four hours 'time.

I am so grateful for days like today.