A scarlet starlet and she’s in my bed
A candidate for the soul mate bled
I pull the trigger and I pull the thread
I’m gonna take it on the otherside

One one of my journeys around the country, I listened – after resisting doing so for a while – to the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ album Unlimited Love. It’s a good album although I don’t quite think it reaches the heights of something like Californication or Stadium Arcadium. Still good, though.

I will admit, however, to the fact that I mostly listened to it that my colleague, Brown, told me to, and that I do whatever Brown tells me to. Pleased though I was with her recommendation (and secure in the knowledge that there was at least one other person on the staff who likes rock), I did have to wonder why she sought me out, specifically. We’ve got a colleague who genuinely used to be a rock musician. Why not him?

A couple of weekends after our conversation I had an idea. I know the chords to Otherside. Music Man taught us to play Californication and other RHCP staples, including my favourite Under the Bridge, but I independently learned Otherside and I was quite good at it once. Even Lightsinthesky said so, and he didn’t like complimenting me about anything. It might be a nice thing to do for Brown if I did a special recording of Otherside for her.

I’d need an excuse, perhaps. Maybe if I just asked when her birthday was. Or when she was getting married (she’s been with her boyfriend for yonks; I was assuming it would be soon). Or I could just say I was playing guitar and felt like hitting record while singing RHCP. It wouldn’t even be that much of a job; I had my recording stuff set up anyway.

She kindly provided me with a reason to by getting pregnant shortly afterwards.

Of course I never ended up actually doing so. A couple of years of physical exhaustion and losing all confidence in your guitar playing ability will do that to a well-intentioned ILB. I still listen to RHCP fairly regularly; I have just lost interest in covering them, even as something “nice” to do for a pregnant friend and colleague. I ended up contributing to the collection they put together for her and fawning over pictures of a baby who manages, even at the age of one, to have shrugged off looking like William Hague (all babies do) and displays both Brown’s radiant beauty and the chiselled looks of his father Green. But I didn’t once pick up my guitar.

Brown returned to work a couple of months ago and spent pretty much all her time telling everyone she’s leaving. An unscrupulous change in management is less kind towards her request to work one day a week in order to spend large amounts of time with her very young child. I was completely with her on this.

“But we’ve got so many people leaving,” I said over lunch. “Surely they must at least be considering keeping you if we’re so short of staff?”
“Apparently not,” she shrugged. “You’d think that, but they’ve told me that I can work full-time or get out. So I’m getting out.”
“I’ll miss you,” I said truthfully. “I’ve always enjoyed working with you, and you have a great taste in music.”
“I’ll still like music whether or not I’m here.”
“…but… that’s not what I — I mean, I was… just…”
“It’s okay, I’m just teasing you. You still owe me a recording of Otherside, if I remember correctly.”

I nodded mutely.

A couple of days ago I bumped into Brown on what was due to be her last day. The long, tearful and apologetic farewell I had stored up didn’t end up showing its face when she revealed that she was, in fact, staying.

“We’ve got so many people leaving,” she said over lunch. “Surely they must have been considering keeping me as we’re so short of staff? Well, they are. And they’re prepared to let me stay for one day a week like I wanted.”
“Oh, that’s great! I’m very pleased,” I ejaculated a little too enthusiastically. “Maybe we should do something to celebrate?”

I have four weeks to re-learn how to play RCHP on the guitar.