You're walking, checking your reflection in the shop windows. Your mates are off, going on about the match next week, how the first game of the season's going to be the start of a new age. You strut a little as you walk, happy to be out and in the swing of a brand new weekend.

You all head off into a doorway and down some stairs into a small bar with a stage at the other end. It's a band you've wanted to see for a while and you know that it's going to be a good one. You've listened to their cd and they're hot like the early Small Faces with a bit of something more now thrown in.

The music's cool as it blasts through the speakers, all soul and ska and jazz. There are all sorts who you check out. Sharp and alive and decked out in Fred Perry's and Levis. You lean against the bar and chat to the rest, whilst sipping at your pint and clocking the Faces as they enter the bar. Someone shoves a cigarette in your paws and lights it and you know that one day you need to give up but not yet. There are plenty of years for settling down and having the kids and joining the world of mortgages and savings and careers and boring, boring, boring conformity in places that you never wanted to be. Because you're young now and there's freedom and all you want.

Oh yes, freedom. You know you need to make the most of it because it'll be gone as soon as it's here. That's what they tell you. They're right as well. Just look at your mates, most of them here and having a laugh and enjoying it but what about Woody? What about the boy? There he was last week sitting with you in the pub pouring his heart out like there was no tomorrow and you didn't know what to do about it. You'd been at the party, seen him kop off. She was fit as well, you wouldn't have minded being there in his shoes as you leant against the wall watching the couples dancing and getting down to it while you were only dreaming. But look now. Look at it there's Woody just been told that he's going to be a Dad and he's wetting himself about the responsibility and the dark lonely nights inside instead of on the beer with you boys and you feel for him but think that it could have so easily been you because you gave him the packet of durex with the one that split and now you feel guilty as well. But you were doing the best you could. You were just trying to help him out.

Just enjoy it. As the band come on and the bass player starts to thud his strings and the drums crash through and there's a power chord and wow it's hot. Bang pow zaparoooooonie oh here we go. There's a crowd at the front and they're jostling and pushing and some are dancing. Its mayhem, top feel to the crowd as they get into it. You want to join them and know you will in a while but for now you're standing and watching and enjoying the band.

The singer's hot. Bluesy and hard, shaved head and zoot suit, no way he's taking any crap from anyone, you can tell that just by looking at him. A voice to die for, a swagger to emulate. They run through their set, all originals, all tight, all massively potential for the future and you know you're going to be here again or somewhere like it just to see these boys who rock and groove and make you feel so very young that you have to stay that way.

And you wish that Woody was here and his woman maybe. And you join the rest of them as they dance around at the front and push and shove and get into it.

You're so into it you didn't notice, its not like you, but there are a few more here now and they're not all so cool. It's a glass thrown across the bar that makes you look up. Its aimed at the speaker and the band carry on playing but start to look worried, even the singer who you didn't think would. But it starts again. A few meaty blokes go into the crowd and start to throw their arms and around and their feet and you're thankfully not in the thick if it so you head off to the side of the bar like all the rest. It carries on, some are having a go back and there's more glass thrown and you know you should rush off into the crowd and help but somehow you just stand and watch and wonder what the hell to do. The band carry on for a while and then stop and decide enough's enough and the lights come on and some girls are crying and the bar blokes dive and try to break it up but they can't and someone calls on a phone frantically but you know by the time anyone gets here it'll be all over and your mates come over and you know there's only one thing to do.

They race up the stairs and you follow them, and you feel relieved that you're doing it and you don't know if you'll get to the top but you keep going on and on and you make it in the end and in a moment you're through the door an it's brilliant to be out on the street and they laugh and you join in. And its all right now, a laugh, fun. What a place and the best ruck ever and you were there. And you go for a pint and a kebab and crash out feeling relieved and buzzing and ready for the next time when you hope you'll be as lucky.