You may now be wondering what on earth is going on with this new vegan , cake making, bread baking, bluegrass playing acoustic version of Rocksey and what has happened to his old party animal persona of old……
Well if this weekend is anything to go by you could be forgiven to thinking that the old Rocksey was back…with a vengeance.
SP and Suki were due to spend the weekend in Amsterdam. It was a treat for Suki’s daughter Bonie for her 16th birthday and Suki had trawled the guide books for lots of treats and fun things for them to do whilst they were there. SP was hoping that he would be able to sneak off for an hour or two to a coffee shop or brown cafe whilst Suki and Bonie were doing some shopping or museum attending. He sold this to Rocksey over a few beers in the week. Just think, he took a swig of Sol, whilst your eating your soggy lentils and lettuce leaves I’ll be rolling a massive joint and contemplating a non vegan lifestyle in general he said. Hmmmm unlikely, Rocksey took a sip of sparkling mineral water (it was Wednesday after all), Suki will have you up in that attic room at Anne Franks house before you know it.
Saturday night, Rocksey had a long standing night out with Mr Lucky planned, this was likely to be a few drinks and the casino, it would be a late one so I knew I may as well have a reasonably early night and was looking forward to catching up with a night on Facebook with a bar or two of chocolate and the cat.
Rocksey however had a different idea as to how he wanted to spend his Friday night. Texting Mr lucky around 3pm on Saturday afternoon, they hatched their plan and Rocksey was out the door by 4.30pm and on a flight to Amsterdam by 6pm arriving at Schipol Airport at 8pm local time. A taxi ride into the City and Rocksey and Mr Lucky were propping up the bar at Butchers Tears by 9pm awaiting SPs arrival.
SP having left Suki and Bonie in De School having dinner with a promise of being back for dessert flew in through the door in his hipster European look, silk cravat, paisley shirt and cuban heels. Ordering a Ciprihani from the bartender in the frame of mind to down 2 or 3 very quickly and hot foot it back to the restaurant for an espresso before a saunter back to the hotel to get Bonie retired for the night and then joining the guys again with Suki for some late night partying. 3 Ciprihanis and 2 Dirty Martinis later, the guys left Butchers Tears with a couple of local beards who offered to take them on an adventure, jumped in a cab and were off to some lesser known hot spots. SP was booted out the cab at Leidseplein as his phone had not stopped ringing with Suki wanting to know ‘ where the hell are you?????’
Now I have already written about Amsterdam Stories in an earlier post and this would be the perfect opportunity to give another rendition of a forgotten weekend. But nothing really happened on Rocksey and Mr Lucky’s flying visit, only that the night was indeed, in Rockseys re-telling to me over breakfast on Sunday morning, booze heavy and a bit surreal, in that they had actually had a night out in Amsterdam instead of spending a few quid at the local casino and a few more drinks at a late night bar in town. Around midnight , SP and Suki rejoined Rocksey and Mr Lucky in a rock club across town where the local Beards knew the doormen and Mr Lucky actually realised he knew the owner from a bar in Nashville where he had met his ex wife who was dancing there in 1986. Of course, the booze flowed, the music was of that era ( as were the fashions worn by the punters -but it is Amsterdam after all) where The Final Countdown will always be a Euro-anthem. Rocksey danced his socks off, swapped his understated but very expensive McQeeen trousers for a pair of David Le Roth style Spandex leggings in a lurid shade of puce, drank copious amounts of beer and finished off the night with several Sambuca shots and some slow dancing with a Shania Twain lookalike dressed head to toe in leopard skin who turned out to be a man called Joel.
Flying back out on the red eye at 7am, Rocksey was home by 9am and joined me for breakfast and the Sunday papers looking only a little worse for wear. Mr Lucky did not make it to the flight, last seen running down the Artisplein with Joel flying after him in his 9” heels singing Feel like a Woman.
Rocksey has been a little quiet this afternoon, on pouring a glass of homemade vegan wine for him , I tiptoe into the lounge to find him fast asleep on the sofa, the cat lying across him still sporting the aforementioned David Le Roth leggings. Sometimes we all need a little ’80’s Rock God in our life.