The Beasts of the Brecon Beacons by Geoffrey Peyton (best sci fi novels of all time .TXT) 📕

they more than obliged. They were probably after one from me anyway, but their company was more than worth it. They left for the lounge at 8.30pm to start their gig. Yes, they were the main act that evening in a tribute band. The band played a various rock classics from the likes of Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, etc. You know the score.

 

I stayed until 9.30pm before making my way out while the band played on. I neglected to give Crapps and the band a wave on my way out, but I did receive a light hug from Vicky, who played only in a handful of numbers from the band (of whom I can’t remember their name). I was also disappointed that they didn’t play any Motörhead for me, or maybe they did after I left. I don’t know.

 

Whilst making my way towards Mike’s house in Pontardawe, and as if by divine thoughtfulness, Mike himself called me on my mobile.

 

“Hi Geoffrey. Where are you?”

 

“I’m on the way to your house. I’ve just come out of the ‘Pontardawe Inn.”

 

Mike was already parked up when I reached the house and I at last was able to rest my tired body on a comfortable sofa. I suggested to Mike that we go and see the band down the pub. And with Mike’s taste in music resembling mine we made our way down to the inn to enjoy the last few numbers from the tribute band.

 

I had another couple of pints of beer until the band played their finale song called, appropriately, ‘Goodbye - A ‘KISS number. The audience of a good amount neglected to give the band an encore, possibly because it was well past 11.00pm. Crapps seemed pleased to see me and shook my hand before settling down with a drink at a table that was reserved for them, no doubt. Vicky took a liking to Mike and they chatted for a while until she too sat at the table with her band.

 

The next few days were far more comfortable on my legs. Mike chauffeured me to many places of interest, and even took me to see an air show in Swansea. When l returned to Birmingham I vowed not to drink again until my next excursion. I have kept my promise up to the completion in writing this, which is some three months later, and will not touch another drop until the wilderness calls again. Whenever that may be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Imprint

Publication Date: 11-29-2017

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
Thanks to the people who decide to read this without the unnecessary criticism that I do not believe I deserve. All I am doing is telling an affectionate story of one man's travels amongst the wilds of Great Britain. Thank you very much.