The Lively Lady, Bracklesham

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If I ever write my memoirs, one of the chapters will be about Bracklesham Bay.

But I've not yet bought my memoir desk, and not yet written out a memoir writing plan chart and then procrastinated about writing for approx 10yrs. So the blog will have to do.

One of the paragraphs in the Bracklesham chapter will be about the Lively Lady.

An unassuming joint. Think British Legion. Think Phoenix Nights. Think that bar in Dead Man's Shoes when Paddy Considine calls the drug dealer a see you next tuesday.

I spent 18 months or so in Bracklesham, Sussex. A forgotten windswept kind of place. I was doing voluntary work; personal care type of stuff for lads with muscular distrophy (but you know how much i don't like talking about the work i do for charidee, mate)

These lads were about the same age as me (early 20s). And aside from the washing cooking dressing etc, when you were working you used to go along with them to the local 'lively' pub. They enjoyed a healthy thirst, and a healthy (ish) interest in fruit machines. Obviously when you were on shift you didn't drink, but on the other days of the week you'd still be going out with the guys, just with the difference being that you'd get merrily ripped alongside them. And man could they drink. Good grief.

So the Lively Lady. Run at the time by Greg and Rachel. They used to book in 'acts' for saturday nights. You know the thing, vic reeves in the club style performers. At the end of the night, and if you and he were drunk enough, you could get Greg up to do his 'turn'. Greg was a die hard Elvis freak and had even gone to the trouble of perfecting a bit of a quiff. He used to cue the backing cd and then belt out a pretty much note perfect rendition of Elvis' American Trilogy. 

And that's really all there is to the memory. The Lively Lady was one of those places which you could kind of enjoy in a slightly ironic way, at times you'd probably  look down on it a bit, but if you were drunk enough and you were still there for one of Greg and Rachel's lock-ins then you'd be in for a treat.

And lets face it. Bracklesham Bay was down a dead end road that ended on a pebbly beach. There was no way the police would be checking in to see if there was any after hours boozing going on.

Oh, and i met N in Bracklesham too. But that's a whole other chapter.