Jammy Taylor

kid in a candy shop with no money

“will you be my valentine?”

The words ‘single’ and ‘Valentines’’ never go too well together, but then add in to the equation having to DJ at a Vvalentine’s party full with people who are so in love it makes you sick, and what you have is enough to make anyone want to find a quiet corner and cry.

In the hope that I would be wrong and that my letterbox would be overflowing with Valentine’s cards, I got dressed and eagerly ran down the stairs to see what was in the mail.

To my surprise there was an envelope there; with great excitement, I grasped it with both hands and ran back up the stairs to open it. I ripped open the envelope with two fingers and peeked inside.

My face soon dropped though as it wasn’t a Valentine’s card at all, far from it. It was a letter from one of the London Councils, (I can’t say which one, but it’s the one where all the traffic wardens are right evil bastards and will ticket you whilst you wait for the traffic light to change.)

As I read on, I soon realised that I had been a naughty boy, and they even sent me a nice picture of me in my car (it did look hot), committing one of the most atrocious of driving offences. No not even my usual favourite of speeding, not even driving in a bus lane. Much worse. Have you guessed what it is yet? No, neither did I until I read the fine details. I had made an illegal turn.

I mean, I had; they had me bang to rights. But honestly, is this what the world is really coming to. So now not only did I not get one single Valentine’s card, I now had to pay a £100 fine and I still had to make it through the rest of the day, and then I had to host a Valentine’s Party at one of those posh hotels.

A few hours later I was at the hotel, all set up; and I still had a bit of time to kill and lets face it, I wasn’t having the best of days, single, dateless, hopeless and now working just to pay off my fine.  So I thought I would treat myself and grab something to eat in the hotel restaurant, after all, it beats having to eat those horrible sandwiches they always try and feed you.

I went in and sat down. Now I do have real problems with sitting eating at a table for one, especially on Valentine’s night, I just can’t cope with it at the best of times, I mean everyone looks at you and thinks you must be a right weirdo with no friends; of course in my case this is Not True! But if you didn’t know me you could easily assume I was just like everybody else.

Then you have to decide what to do with yourself when you’re not eating, for example, chat up the Eastern European waitress? Order more weak shandy? Play with your knife and fork? Play with your phone? Well luckily tonight I was ok, as I took my laptop to dinner with me and indeed started writing this, although maybe I cheapened my image a little bit or maybe they thought I was an enthusiastic food critic eager to write what he thought there and then.

Anyway, I looked through the menu, having to be really brave as I couldn’t really understand anything on it; all the “jus” and ‘berrere blanc” etc, I was just looking for the words, “steak and chips”, but to my dismay I couldn’t see it anywhere. However, after the waitress gave me the translation of the food in my terms, I did manage to find something.

The food was very good, to start I had tiger prawns in this little pastry teepee, not that it was called that on the menu and for my main I had to settle for veal; which is quite like steak although, it did come with lots of green stuff, however I managed to wade my way through it and subsequently feel much healthier for it already. The ice cream was amazing too, in fact it was so good that I had three portions, vanilla with little raspberries and this little strawberry jus decoration around the perimeter of the plate.  (After all this was the only excitement I was going to get tonight.)

I was also surprised with my shandy as when they told me they only had Stella on draft, I was worried that I would go into the party trying to cause fights with everyone, luckily this was not the case and I quite enjoyed it although maybe there wasn’t enough of it in my shandy to make a difference.

I finished my meal and at that point I was feeling quite happy, but when it dawned on me why I was indeed in the restaurant in the first place, the realisation soon soured the mood.

Now normally how it works with DJing is that you have to get all the women up dancing first, and the all the men will join them, but at a Valentine’s party this has to go right out the window as they’re all in couples, so there are no groups of women to get up and help get the party started, and it makes it ten times harder.

By 9.15 I was starting to pull my hair out, counting the seconds till 1am. I was beginning to feel the strain from the day and with the added pressure of no one dancing and having my boss in the room watching me, I was starting to wish I was somewhere else; anywhere, Brazil, Leeds, at this point I didn’t care. I just didn’t want to be there!

Although there were some gorgeous women in the room, so at least I had something to look at, but it was a bit of a tease; like being a kid in a candy shop with no money, you couldn’t buy anything, as they were all taken. So I had to be on my best behaviour, for in fear of having my lights punched out by one of their jealous boyfriends.

Eventually I managed to save myself by cracking out a few classic love songs, a bit of Barry and a little Percy Sledge, and this did get everyone up but even then how do you follow that up? I mean couples don’t want to dance all night and go crazy to the James Taylor Roadshow, they want to sit and enjoy each other’s company. Well some of them. Some by the looks on their faces hated being there as much as I did. Maybe they realised that they didn’t fancy each other as much as they thought or maybe he just got her the wrong colour underwear or maybe it was my music.

Anyway tomorrow’s another day and as my Dad always says, “As long as you wake up tomorrow; you’ve got a result”, that is as long as it’s not Groundhog Day.

Happy Valentine’s.