PARAPLEXED

Another small milestone, the five figure visitor count. And in spite of extended periods of neglect, the second five thousand came faster than the first , so we must be doing something right. My thanks to all regular and occasional visitors. Please keep coming, and I'll try to make sure there's always something new to see. Requests will be taken seriously!

For a couple of weeks now one of the Stufital regulars has been asking Paraglider to sing Waterloo Sunset. The excuse of not knowing all the lyrics had worn thin (there aren't very many after all) and last night, after one too many beers, it (the excuse) had finally run its course and the moment had arrived. Unfortunately, said regular made the request indirectly, through Rusty (the band) who proceeded to locate the song on his PC - a high speed drum-filled version that bore little resemblance to the Ray Davies original. Paraglider raced manfully through the first manic verse, wishing he was anywhere else, then decided to take control of the situation. By the simple device of stopping singing, he caused Rusty to stop the crazy backing track. In the ensuing silence, he started the song again, on solo guitar and at a sensible speed, and found the experience quite comfortable and relaxed. Almost like it used to be, before the MIDI invasion, before enhanced Karaoke acts replaced bands.

No doubt he had a crush on Lisa. No doubt it was not reciprocated. We think he was a dentist. Certainly he was a gentleman. And a regular. Occasionally, he would come in wearing a business suit, and once, a paisley pattern jumper. But his normal attire was an immaculate white dishtash, his dancing dress. He would drink bottled Heineken with an ever-widening smile and a sparkle in his crossed eyes, waiting for the band to play his request, the one he thought was called Gumbo Jumbo. Then he'd get up and dance. If Lisa let him have the mic, he'd sing - ya ya gumbo jumbo ya ya yai . He liked being happy, was polite to everyone, died suddenly and will be missed. Mr Gumbo Jumbo, peace be upon him.

What did you send me there for? It's a terrible place! - Gfoot's first words to Paraglider, in Stufital, on his return from Dubai. It seems the room was OK. Breakfast was OK. Location was fine. So what was the problem? - Cost me a fortune! - What, the rates have gone up? - Bugger the rates - Gfoot is always direct - I never got out the bar! - He'd been aware of eyes in the far corner, following his every move, his every successful extrication from every attempted ensnarement. He was doing well, proud of his resolve. Until, rashly, he returned the gaze. Once only, for three and a half hours. So, was he impressed with Chalky's Bar? - Aye.