Tribute To Guitarist Pat Martino - Scan 03 07Anyone who has been reading this blog for a while will have noticed that I occasionally struggle for inspiration (fine..more than occasionally).   Fair enough I suppose, it happens to the best bloggers, so it is bound to happen to someone as low down the blogging chain as me…

Inspiration is a funny thing though, sometimes you see something that just hits you.   Other times you remember stuff from your past.   Occasionally, inspiration is thrust at you…like Frodos mum, who tries to sell flowers to any guy even remotely close to a woman in the Anglo most nights, shoving roses in your face with a grunt…and a suggestion of an impending curse should you fail to buy.   So when   Zs girlfriend IP complained that my Wombats post was somewhat lacking of IP activity, she suggested I write something to rectify this.   Suggested in this case in a sort of accusatory, pouty, threatening kind of way.   So with fear of a Z based beatdown….

Let me take you back to the Wombats gig.   Now, I have known Z for a while and when he informed me that his new girlfriend was coming along…I am sure you can forgive me for a certain amount of 3rd wheel trepidation.   Absolutely not the case.   Not only did they both avoid placing me in the 3rd wheel position, IP was actively involved in the stereotypical German accent’ athon.   My biggest shock though was me throwing out a random Fast Show quote and IP knew what the hell it was…and was able to respond…with one of her own.   IP was actively involved in the “showing off to 14 year olds on a train” spectacular and even went so far as to acknowledge their class and uber-coolness…by chugging half of their wine and trying to match Z by doing somersaults using the grab handles on the train.   Fast forward to the weekend and I am being taken along for drinks and to meet new people….me likey.

Spin on a little more and I am in agony with my (probably) karma induced bad back.   I will admit to some whining, moaning, whinging and more than a little complaining.   I won’t admit to crying…not saying it didn’t happen…I am just not prepared to admit it.   Anyway back on track…IP starts asking doctor’esque questions about the pain, where it is etc etc.   Then she offers to help me fix it.   Which she then does.   Blessed relief

Seriously, who does that?   Who gives up their own time and energy to help a relative stranger?   IP, that’s who.   A rare breed of person that is generous and genuine.   I would, of course, like to think that I would have done the same….but would I have really?   Would you?

Now I realise that this could easily devolve into an IP love-in, but far from it.   If I can just get a little sentimental here for a second (and it is my blog, so damnit I will), I am in a very fortunate position of having made some incredibly good friends in Frankfurt and yet I am still surprised when I make another one.   I think it is the Anglo effect.   The few false people I have met there have not lasted long, did not ever really get in with the group and were certainly not missed.

The others are still there and the group grows a little from time to time.   I am fortunate to be a part of it.

Plus…who doesn’t like having a free massage, complete with baby oil…from a woman that gets your jokes ;-)

I’m off to let Z kick the shit out of me…and then try and find an Uncle Fester coat for the impending Halloween weekend frivolity.

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