With One Leg On The Bar

I did two things last night that I’ve not done in a while. I nipped down to the Green Dragon Tavern to loosen my muscles with the first proper dance since my recent accident. The other was to return to writing a novel I’ve left for nearly a month. They were but two of the many reasons why people were commenting on the improvement in The Chipster’s mood.

‘Chip,’ said Samantha, the waitress at the Tavern, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance as well.’

‘I’m feeling oddly limber,’ I admitted as I threw my leg up on the bar and touched my chin to my knee. ‘I think it’s November. Some men get gloomy about the shorter days, but I get cheerful because of the longer night. There’s more time for a man in a thong to impress the ladies and walk the stage naked.’

‘I’ve never thought of it like that,’ she said. ‘And how’s the book coming?’

‘Again, better than I expected. I read through the first 10,000 words this morning and I laughed at least five times on every page. That’s quite something. That’s writing to the levels established by Bill Bryson and Jeremy Clarkson. If I could get it to six times a page, I’d be heading into Wodehouse territory. Can you imagine that? P.G. Wodehouse with an expert knowledge of the tensile strength of a fully loaded thong?’

‘So you’re limber in both mind and body?’ replied Samantha. ‘And how is the blog going?’

I tutted as I pushed my chin to my knee a second time. ‘The blog is a problem. I’ve been annoying people with my slightly less than ebullient mood of late. I’ve even had emails complaining that I’m not the man they have come to know and love.’

I dropped my leg to the floor and threw the other one up to repeat the same exercise.

‘People like consistency,’ said Samantha. ‘If you didn’t come in here every night, dressed in your alligator jacket and luminous orange thong, I’d think there was something wrong with you.’

‘And there would be something wrong with me,’ I said as I gave my thong a snap for good luck. ‘There would be something very wrong with me indeed.’

Later, I got back to the flat and took a quick shower before changing into a casual thong. I sat down, turned on the TV, heckled Newsnight, and then listened to Gabby as she struggled with a mugger in the street below the flat.

‘Had a good evening?’ I asked when she finally appeared at the door.

She wiped a spot of blood from her cheek and gave me a kiss.

‘Gabby make him beg for his life,’ she said.

‘I bet you did,’ I replied and knew there and then that I was feeling much better with the world.

The thong is at 95% and still rising.