One Night in Derby – Part 2

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I wandered lonely as a cloud, along the Derby streets

As if I’d fallen from the sky, shaken free by techno beats

(If you will remember, I had left the warmth of Fusion,

With three hours still to go before the night reached its conclusion…)

 

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Salvation came in the shape of a bar which was named the Flaming Fox

Referring, I supposed, to the barmaid, whose smile could have melted rocks

I settled myself at the edge of the room, and got out my notebook

Figuring I would do some work, make the most of my bad luck

 

But it wasn’t long before I was approached by one of the in-house bouncers

Who’d seen me writing in a book, and had come looking for some answers

“Are you an inspector or something?” He asked me, to my surprise

“No,” I responded, then instantly thought of many better replies

 

About ten minutes later, it was the barmaid who ambled over

And we chatted nonsense for a while, me glad that I was sober

She went away for a few minutes more, and then, upon returning

She turned my head and kissed me, leaving my cheeks fairly burning

 

“Keep up the good work,” she said with a grin, and slinked back to the bar

While I smiled like a lunatic – best moment of the night by far!

‘On par with Zeppelin Dude at the least’, I thought, and began to wonder

If any other strangeness would emerge from out of the thunder

 

Lo and behold, the night indeed had one more thing in store

Blasts of cold wind filled the room, and a midget walked through the door

He wandered round the room a bit, and passed me once or twice

So on his third pass I said “Hello”, trying to be nice

 

He said hello back and so I made polite conversation

Feeling rather sorry for his slight air of desperation

However this backfired when he asked me “So… wanna come back to mine?”

I managed to say, with contained shock, that I’d have to decline

 

After that he turned away and left without a word

Just as the dreaded call ‘It’s closing time!’ was heard

Thusly did I head out again into the Derby night

And trudged back to the station, which was a very gloomy sight

 

The only passenger was I, on a train so quiet and dead

That never so eager have I been, to see my single bed

And when finally I did get home, at around half-past seven

The cloudy grey of Leicester dawn looked like the plains of heaven

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—————–

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So that, then, is the story, of what happened on that night

Of shocks and laughs and oddities, and the occasional fright

But should I ever find myself once more stranded in that hell?

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I think I’ll do the sensible thing, and find a good hotel.

One Night in Derby – Part 1

A few entries back, I mentioned that there was a tale-in-waiting which deserved to have an entry dedicated to it. As it turns out, it needs more like two, so here’s part one of that story, dragged out of the dungeons of my memory, 100% true. To set the scene: I was travelling back to Leicester from York by train in horrendous weather, and arrived at the station of a small, grimy town called Derby, where I was to change trains to continue my journey…

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It was a dark and stormy night; I think you know the kind

I watched my connecting train depart… while I’d been left behind

And the story of what happened next I wrote out for you all

But the tale came out so long it would’ve filled the entire wall

So here instead are the events, rewritten in poetry form,

Of what can happen stranded in Derby, in the middle of a storm

Oh, and just one crucial point – to add to my bad luck –

My phone battery had up ‘n died (Yeah I know; I suck 😉 )

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———-

Time: 9:00 pm

At nine o clock I missed my train, the connection had been late

The next one? Half-past five AM; so now, I’m thinking ‘Great...”

Then I saw a pub nearby, and headed towards the lights

To be told: “Closing early, love. Sorry, it’s one of those nights!

You’d best head into town by foot – it’s only half an hour.”

Which was fine, ‘til five minutes in, the sky began to shower

So watch me leg it down Main Street, while folk in taxis gloat

(I’ll leave it up to you to guess, whether I had brought a coat.)

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10:00 pm

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Thankfully I soon found a bar, sporting a sign which said:

“SUNDAY NIGHT IS BAND NIGHT, SO COME IN AND ROCK YOUR HEAD!”

“Band night eh, that doesn’t sound bad,” I thought, with optimism

Then discovered that ignorance is bliss, faced with Nu Metal rhythm.

However there was entertainment to find, in braving these aural assaults

By talking snobbily with some guy, about each band’s musical faults.

He’d been a friend of Robert Plant; so I ensured that we shook hands

While he reminisced about Zeppelin – “So much better than these shitty bands…”

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12:00 am

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That place closed around midnight, so time for some more bar-hopping

But now I had to hurry it up, with the temperature rapidly dropping

And it seemed that a club called ‘Fusion’ was the only available place

So I lingered in its doorway, spine shaking along with the bass.

I was just minding my own business there, when one of the bouncers asked

If I was coming in or not, and I had to convince him fast;

I didn’t have much money left by now, and less desire to spend it here

So I explained myself and pointed out that the weather was quite severe

The doorman laughed at this and then, after talking to his mate,

Suggested I help out on the door – “Beats freezing, at any rate!”

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2:00 am

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So I became a Fusion bouncer – well, at least for a while

Until the nightclub had to close, and I continued on my trial.

Through rain and wind and metal and bass, so far I had survived

I could only hope to hold my ground, until the train arrived.

But there were strange things waiting to happen in the intermittant time

And they my friends, will be the subject, of the next entry’s rhyme…

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Bad Parking

I’ve been away in Cheltenham for the weekend, and returned this evening to find, after being subjected to a load of security checks at the railway station (?!), that some kind of city-wide curfew has been put in place. Obviously it’s got something to do with the recent outbreaks of violence and what-have-you, but that’s all anyone seems to know. It hasn’t been implemented well at all; a lot of people (myself included) had never even heard of it until it was in effect. There are still plenty of cars on the road though, and from what I could see, I’d guess that with the state of the streets and lack of buses (which seem to have stopped running), people have started to carpool more, as I didn’t see many empty seats.

It was as I made my way back home, through the local park, that something happened to change things. I’m looking at this city under a twisted new light tonight.

Victoria Park (as it is known) used to be a horse-racing circuit, so that might give you some idea about the size of the thing. Anyway, because of this, the lamp posts are scattered thinly among the trees and winding pathways, and, in all honesty, walking across it at night is generally not the wisest of things to do at the best of times, never mind with all the strange stuff going on here recently. But it was late, I wanted to get home, etc. etc., so I set off over the grass.

I was almost exactly half-way across when an asian chap jumped out from the gloom, right at me. He must have been hiding behind a bush nearby, because he just stumbled right out in front of me, arms outstretched and mouth gaping as if he was yawning… it made for a pretty chilling sight, and one hell of a nasty shock. Then there was the smell – be glad that text is a scentless medium, that’s all I’m saying…

Anyhow, I wasn’t taking any chances, so skirted round him. It was a close thing, as the path was narrow, but he was slow in turning and I was past before his arms tould snag me. It was time enough, however, to get a fairly good look at his face. God help me. His eyes were covered with a milky film, and they were as vacant as any blind man’s. His skin was spattered with blood, a dark brown freckling in the dim light, and the bones in his jaw made a gristly grinding sound as I passed him and broke into a sprint.

He began to follow.

As I ran, it occured that, of course, I had my phone on me, complete with camera function. Wanting to capture a picture of my grim assailant, I yanked it out of my coat pocket and took some shots behind me as I ran, not looking back myself. This is the only one that came out anywhere near decent:

I’m sorry to say the quality is shite, but you’ll have to cut me some slack on that one 😉 By the time I reached the main road, and had careered over to the other side, I finally gained the courage to look behind me. There was no sign of him, or anything else out of the ordinary.

Now, back in the safety of my own home, there’s a word playing across my mind. I barely want to acknowledge its presence in my wonderings as being even slightly accurate, and it’s probably a result of watching lots of horror movies /playing one too many computer games, but all the same…