A 'Smashing' Night Out...

It was a Friday evening, if I remember correctly, and we’d been in Brighton just over a month. There was a great little audience, the band would appear soon, and we had a table. Everything was perfect. Or was it? I was unsteady, but it had nothing to do with the pint of ale I’d barely sipped.

A moment or two later I picked the up the pint again and suddenly the earth seemed to open up under me. The chair I’d been sitting on collapsed like a deck of cards, and although I wasn’t the warm-up act, I was getting the audience’s attention – and Suzi’s. I wondered, and I could see from her face she was wondering too, if the semi-darkness concealed more than spilt beer and broken glass.

Rising to my feet I couldn’t very well resume my seat: it was a splintered wreck, looking in much the same state as I was feeling.

We made our way upstairs. Unlike Sean’s favourite drink, I was stirred to boot. Someone said, ’Thank God it wasn’t worse’ to which I testily replied, ‘God had nothing to do with it!’ I stood, arms apart, like a gunslinger with two holsters. I was looking at the carpet, at my suit and hands. Maybe there was divine intervention after all: amazingly, I was unscathed and uncut.

I needed fresh air, but not for long, because I badly needed a drink. We found ourselves in the nearby Cricketers, which was apt. Given my fragile state I reckoned that if it was OK for the author of ‘A Burnt-Out Case’, it would do nicely for me. As did its double brandy.

Six weeks later we were back in the club! (Purists might say we were doing something twice, but given that I’d only had a soupcon of beer, the first visit hardly counted.) We were there at the management’s kind - and generous invitation: a pre-cabaret meal was also included. We had a great time, the band fab and the evening turned out to be just as memorable - but for better reasons.

Someone else was on the floor. Maybe he’d heard of me, I thought. But if he had, he only had thoughts and eyes for the young lady who was with him. He was down on his knees - proposing - but up on his luck.

We hope they’re still together, and returning to that unforgettable, romantic spot - which we believe has changed its name.

For us, though, it will always be the wonderful ‘Joogleberry’, which we miss terribly – though not its chairs! We wish the new owners continued success – a success that will be assured if its burgers and honeyed chicken wings are as scrumptious as before: Suzi says they’re the best she’s ever tasted!

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