“So, you are Nels from Hair Tom. I knew it,” says the man in the leather coat. Nels just looks up at him, through her fringe. She's holding her bass guitar close, to protect it and to shield hereself from freaky 'fans'.
“I was so into Hair Tom in the early '80s. It just took me away from that early '70s hippy stuff, the stuff my father used to listen to,” he didn't half go on.
Typical, she thought. He even says 'Father'. Not 'Dad' or 'the Old Man'. Thing about this prog rock stuff is that it's mainly middle class lads that are into it.
Nels just got carried away by the dope. The bass lines Hair Tom needed were flowing. Like you could see the notes coming out of the amps. You could easily play stoned.
“...so, I just had to buy the box set. Had to have it! I even bought the sheet music, I can't play a note...” and he's still going on.
“'scuse me, mate,” says Nels, blowing her fringe out of her eyes, “want me to take you back?”
He looks flumoxed, “What? To your place?” adding a nervous laugh. She hasn't got a place, she's dossing down in Matts caravan at the moment.
“No, you dirty get,” says Nels, she can take lecherous guys in her stride after a couple of decades touring with the likes of Hawkwind, “back in time. Want me to tell you what it was like in the band back in '82?”
“Why, yes! I'd love to hear your anecdotes...” she stops him.
“Let's get off at the next stop, then. You can buy me a cider in the 'Juggling Rosary' (a pub in Thursby Down).”
Anything for a cider, thought Nels, anything for a cider. And at least it'll be warmer in there by the fire than in Matt's van.
[But why was Nels walking around in the pouring rain with her guitar? She'd had a bust up. Hair Tom, or what's left of it, were rehearing in a barn owned by Mansell (an associate of 'Torpid Emancipator' supremo, Ricky Fleese – the man who' desperately trying to get Hair Tom to reform and tour - “don't worry, I'll tell you all about this later,”says the Narrator.) The rain started and leaked in, shorting out the electricity supply to the new keyboard player's Korg synth, “Bollocks! I'm still paying the HP on that,” he said as the smoke poured from the instrument and his ponytail swung violently. An argument ensued. Nels stirred it up in order to get out the door. She wasn't really into this reforming the band thing in the first place].