The Golden Eagle is just around the corner from where Richard lives - when I first went there, I was more than a little apprehensive -
Richard had painted a vivid picture of a raffish, edgy, drinking den - I expected to see geezers, rough diamonds, smouldering women - frenzied boys might be playing passionate guitars - Spike might be igniting aerosols to end the disco - Lou might offer me a chilli vodka -
It was all of this, and more - I felt immediately home in the crowded bar, jostled by tipsy blues lovers - a calm boy served pints of Traitors Gate - Phil and Richard joshed each other mercilessly - I'm only sayin!
Varnsey would love this pub, I thought - Cliff was generous with his lock ins - I often reeled out after midnight -
When Geoff Achison and The Soul Diggers played there, I wanted the music to go on forever - he played his guitar like a noble savage - there were wild cries and whistling from the audience at the end of every song - encore followed encore -
In my dreams that night, I headed a band, playing fearless guitar - Richard and Phil were backing vocals - Cliff was playing bass -
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