Jimmy C's

A whole week since my last post. I'm letting you down, my readers. So I'll make up for it by regaling you with stories of my weekend...

A couple of friends are renting by my cottage so I went down to par-tay Port Stanley style. What started as a quest for a decent plate of nachos ended up at the local (and I mean local) watering hole. It was Saturday night at Jimmy C's, otherwise known as The Cook, but never known by it's proper name The Captain's Cook.

The beer was flowing, the jukebox pumped out a steady stream of Johnny Cash and Stompin' Tom and I think I was hit on by every drunk at the bar. Typical conversation went a little something like this...

Drunk: You're used to live in London? I used to live in London. Moved there when I was 26 to go to Fanshawe and find myself a bride. That was '89. Where were you back then, sweetheart?

Me: Man, I was in Grade 10!

Drunk: Grade 10. Sixteen. We coulda hooked up.

Me: Ummm, no.

Drunk: I'm flirting with you, ya' know.

Me: Yeah, I know.

But don't get me wrong. It was a wicked time. My buddy held the pool table against all challengers, including Peter P-Diddy, The Mayor and Wolfman. And we made some new friends - cool locals our age including Rudy the hairdresser with a tattoo of a perch on his back (he LOVES perch, according to his wife). We even found out where Jimmy C hides his rolling papers.
The nachos were crap though.


Mat-E said...

I think we were too cool to party with Fanshawe and / or Port Stanley people when we were in grade 10...it had to be Central, Oakridge, maybe a little Lucas and Beal thrown in there, and of course UWO!