The Grot is quiet for a while. Adge and the boys are getting over their day out. The lively banter of a normal Sunday is much more subdued today. The silver lining for me is that never again will I have to hear the old line about “We’ve never lost at Wembley, Blazing.”
“So did you drown your sorrows last night, Adge?” I am trying to coax more than the odd grunt out of him.
“Not really, Blazing. Had a few pints, obviously, then went home and played all me sad songs before hitting the hay.”
I really don’t want to know what constitutes a sad song for Adge. His taste in music is not one I share, and I like most things, believe me. Alphabetically sorted on iTunes, my collection stretches from Aaron Copland to ZZ Top. Sort by genre and it goes from acid punk to world music. I have an eclectic musical taste.
I turn the conversation to his chosen medium for listening to music. Like most of us nowadays the computer is delivering the bulk of his tracks, although I raise an eyebrow when he says he is mainly playing cd’s through his. “Ever heard of Spotify, Adge?”
“Like zits, you mean?”
Oh dear. I look at my now empty glass.
“Yeah. Zits, Adge. Your round.”
I’ll save the education until I have a full pint and a lot more patience.
