Andy Fairweather Low

I think it must have been 1977, Id bought a house in Edinburgh and the meeting with Knopfler and Illsley in Deptford was almost a memory. For as we know life has to go on. The woman who had dragged me away from  what I thought anyway wasn’t to bad a life in Bethnal Green, demanded that we went to see Andy Fairweather Low, who was playing at the students union practically opposite from where we were staying. I can only think the sudden urge for her to see A.F.Low, was the fact he was gigging that night, and probably knew the concert was a sell out. “I thought you knew people,”was her reply when I queeried the proposal. To keep the peace we headed towards where a group of students were hanging around at the back door of the venue. After asking a few of them about tickets, I made my way alone to the front of the building and made enquiries at the box office. “Not a chance in hell mate,” I was told. Head bowed I made my way back to where Id left my beloved.”Your fuckin useless,” she said making a few of the crowd turn to see who she was talking to. Suddenly the glass door was opened by a steward, and this small guy wearing a duffel coat with the hood up slipped past and into the building. The crowd seeing a way in pushed forward sending me flying into the hallway, and following the guy with the duffel coat. Having been seperated from the person who wanted to be at the gig, my main concern was getting back to her, but the stewards had arrived in reinforcements and were bundling those who had gatecrashed back through the doors. Not wanting to get caught up in the scrum I saw a sign for the gents toilets and headed for there. Id not even got my zip down when a trumpet of farts and almighty explosions erupted from one of the cubicles. Not managing to get the couple of pints Id swallowed earlier out quick enough, Id only started rinsing my hands in the sink, when the guy with the duffel coat came out of cubicle that the horrendous noises had come from, this time with the hood down. With the weak smile of a man who had heard Mount Etna erupting, and now that the smoke had cleared saw it was all caused by a small bump. I watched this wee guy take his place at the sink next to me. “Your A.F.Low,” I said trying not to break into a laugh for Id had for me, the best part of the gig. I then went on to tell him about how much my friend wanted to see the concert, and could he see his way to getting her in. At that point the door of the toilets opened and five security men walked in. “Is he with you” one of them asked as Andy was drying his hands.”I write lyrics,” I said trying to bribe him.”Ye,” he queeried with a look that said well Im listening. “Dire Straits,” I said hopefully.”Never heard of them,” he answered with another look that said, lets just call it quits.”Ive a friend waiting at the back door,” I told the steward as I walked with him back along the corridor.”Your fuckin hopeless,”were the first words I heard as the steward locked the door behind me, “I wanted to see Andy Fairweather Low,” she complained.”Well you should have come with me,” I said with a smile inwardly cursing myself for mentioning Dire Straits, as I hadn’t a clue what had happened since Id left London.

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