Tales From The Yellow Room

I finally managed to get off my lazy arse on Wednesday and make a trip down to Whitley Bay and chez Smith. I think the last time Sid and I had any sort of face to face chat would have been ten plus years ago so I was a little concerned that the day would be filled with embarrassing silences. However, we both seemed to hit our stride from moment one and it turned out to be a case of knowing when to shut up rather than not knowing what to say.

Over a number of pots of Earl Grey and a rather fine bacon and mushroom sarnie we covered a multitude of topics including old acquaintances from years gone by, Sid’s initiation into the world of Robert Fripp and the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, amongst others. I was also a bit of a hit with Baby Wilson who settled on my lap for most of the afternoon and kept me well toasty as we sat in the famous Yellow Room.

We parted with each of us stating we should try to ensure it isn’t a further ten years or so before we do this again and I hope we manage to make good on those words. All in all a very pleasant way to spend a few hours and it was certainly the highlight of my week, although considering the only other time I’ve crossed the doorway this week was to go to hospital perhaps that’s selling it a bit short.