Don't Make Plans

I’d had a pretty lazy day most of Saturday around the house until I went for a bit of a run at 4pm before it started to get dark (I didn’t stretch like I usually do halfway through and am paying for it today) then went to check out a flat in Clapham Junction at 7pm. Didn’t like it though; 6 people and only 1 shower. They said it wasn’t an issue, but hard to believe. Anyway, I was supposed to be heading into Piccadilly to catch up with my mate Ian and London newbie Chapstick, at the Sports Café to watch the All Blacks vs. whatever the French team are called. If you know me, you’ll probably know I’m not really into rugby so wasn’t totally ‘plussed’ about the idea, but nothing else was on the cards.

I was running a late for the kick-off (why did I care?) So when I got to the train station I quickly glanced at the screen and thought I saw that the London Waterloo train was leaving right now, so bolted up the stairs onto the platform to see the train, with the doors beeping. That means they’re closing soon and the train will depart. There’s something about a train that’s just about to leave that made me get on without fully checking it was the right one. It might be the thought of waiting another 10-15 min on a cold platform. It turned out it wasn’t the right one. In fact it was going in the opposite direction and the first stop was Woking – 20min away! I’ve never been there before, but didn’t really want to see it that night. Oh, well it wasn’t worth getting worked up about. Apart form the fact I didn’t have tickets for Woking. Most of the time the tickets aren’t checked but tonight they were. I just pulled out my travel card and they glanced at it and moved on. They obviously don’t read them properly.

Just as I was getting into Woking, I got a text from my friend John’s Spanish flatmate asking me if I wanted to head out to Brixton to check out a Jazz band. Suddenly my night was looking up. If I hadn’t have gotten on the wrong train I’d be in town by now and a lot less likely to leave. But I wasn’t, so organised to go back to Balham so we could make our way Brixton (bit of a shady place Brixton - Lots of trees).

So we met up with about ten Spanish people and I was about the only person at the table that couldn’t speak Spanish. Not a problem for me as I could just enjoy the Jazz anyway. But then someone tells me that this other guy who’s coming to the table is out of some famous band. Turns out he’s the guitarist for Jesus Jones. It’s not such a popular band now, but they were reasonably well known in the 90’s and produced some of the drinking anthems we used to listen to at university like Right Here Right Now and International Bright Young Thing. His name was Jerry and was sitting near me so we got to talking. He wasn’t all “I’m too cool for school” and was more than happy to talk to me about music and things. Well, mainly music. He likes the Zutons at the moment, and not so keen on Snow Patrol (I’m actually loving their latest album). His favourite band is the Beatles (surprise surprise) and they’re still together as a band playing sometimes (not The Beatles, Jesus Jones!). They only played in Auckland when they came to NZ – I told him that’s a shame. He thoroughly loved New Orleans in the US and still plays in Japan. All in all he was a top bloke and pretty cool for a 43 year old. He even remembered my name, which I was impressed with. All part of a great night which I couldn’t have planned.

Jerry De Borg, Jesus Jones

So the moral of the story: getting on the wrong train leads to meeting (semi) famous people.