The Fixer, Saturday, 12 February 2022, Day 696!

And I think somebody somewhere must be tolling a bell!

I cried out loud when I heard Meat Loaf died, I’ve never really cried for someone I don’t know or never met, but I spent a lot of my youth dancing about the living room, listening to his music, pretending to be Cher in the Dead Ringer for Love video. In my version though I was dressed in a blue pastel outfit and white stilettoes, not exactly rock chick, but it was the fashion at the time.

After singing to each other me and Meat would walk out the bar, declare our love, kiss passionately, jump on the back of his bike and drive into the sunset.

His passing also reminded me of a situation I ended up in last September, when I thought I was a goner, and not just like peace descending over me, goodbye my friends, I will always be in your hearts. More of a panic, FUCK, why haven’t I updated my eulogy for two years, will my family read it and weep? I’m gonna fucking die and my underwear isn't matching! Will the last thing I see be my beating heart?

The memory did make me smile, but at the time I was bawling like a fucking baby and never so glad to feel a cold pavement on my forehead.

After three bounced attempts to get abroad me and the Belters (sadly minus one, due to self-isolation, we did toast her a lot, maybe too much, aye defo too much) ended up at Seton Sands for a long weekend. With no trip for two years, to say we were hyper was an understatement, as we headed out to Port Seton our faces were all smiles and we were glowing like the metal on the end of a knife.

Thirty minutes waiting in the freezing cold and rain for a taxi soon wiped the glow off our faces. We were hoping to ask the taxi driver dropping us off to pick us up at the end of the night but when he fucked and scrapped his car along the side of the kerb, we decided to give him a miss… Mistake!

Our night out choices were the Auld Man’s pub or the not so Auld Man’s pub, we opted for the latter and were surprised, it was lovely and had a good menu, the service carried out under the eagle eye of the who I thought was the manager was second to none.

The manager was a dodgy looking character, he had a callous look in his eyes matched with the calluses on his lips and fingers from smoking too many roll ups, evident from the number of times he was in and out the bar. Up and down the bar he strutted like the son of a jackal, the way he dried the glasses like he was stroking something precious gave me the heebie jeebies.

So, I was fucking delighted when my pal started to talk to him. Turns out he wasn’t the manager he just watched the place for his pal. His real job was a Fixer, yes, a Fixer, where are these jobs advertised? If you needed something he fixed it, no really wanting to know but being a nosey cow, “ahh so like a handyman, fix boilers and what not ?” “Eh, aye a handyman, but I don’t fix boilers and what not, mare like, you know, if you want someone tae back off from you (scary eyes), but I’m best known for fixing it for people tae get a housing association house, you want a house, come tae me, (pure scary eyes)!” “that’s great you on the board?” says naïve fannybaws me, “Naw doll (scariest eyes I’ve ever seen) enough said we backed away!

How the hell he fixed it for folks to get a house I’ll never know, and I was too scared to ask, my mind was buzzing. Was he shagging the local housing officer? Blackmailing local councillors? Were tenants mysteriously disappearing? Port Seton was a nice wee place, could I afford his fixers fee?

We managed to avoid eye contact for the rest of the night, until we were leaving and asked the bar staff to order us a taxi “you’ll no get a taxi now, I’ll take you” says the Fixer. O Fortuna from Carmina Burana, (Over 45, Music from Old Spice Advert, under 35, X Factor, all ages, Only Fools and Horses), begins playing in the pub, or maybe it was just in my head.

Us with really scary eyes but for a different reason “ach not at all, its fine, we can walk, what, these 5-inch stilettos they are as comfy as fuck, in fact, fancy a wee 10K run lassies, burn off the booze and the food, come on let’s get going….. now come on move….. aye now…. , scramble to the door yank it open and its fucking pelting it down. “Aye a lift would be great thanks” “nae bother, my trucks over there”

This thing was a frigging monster pickup truck, all black and silver with big fuck off lights. A tarpaulin was pulled tight over the back, is this where missing tenants end up? I wisney looking that’s for sure!

Giving my pals the signs for if anything happens, you go for the balls, I’ll go for the back of the knee, you jump on his back and you poke him in the eye with a stiletto. With the plan in place, I felt more confident as I climbed on to the tyre to make the jump up to the seat.

When I heard the doors locking, engine revving and the smell of burning rubber I really started shitting myself, at top speed, the Fixer peeled out the parking bay, shot across the other side of the road, missing some old dear coming out the co-op by a baw hair. I sunk down in the back seat, grabbing my pal’s arm as if I’m squeezing out a 12lb wean, swearing to myself and my dead dad (I knew he would be raging) I would never do anything like this again, eyes closed shut, I braced myself for any sudden impact.

Over the noise of the engine, and my gasps for breath, I heard my pal say, weirdly in an Irish accent (maybe it made her feel closer to God) “To be sure, you’re driving like a bat out of hell,” followed by the other pal say “you took the words right out of my mouth” WTF this is no the time to be quoting Meat Loaf song lyrics!

As soon as the Fixer skidded to a 360 degree stop, I lunged for the door handle and frantically looked for the inflatable chute to aid my escape, nae surprise there wasn’t one. After jumping from the truck, assisted by push from my pal, I snogged the pavement in relief, thank fuck, heaven can wait a while for me yet.

Sadly, I never got to see Meat Loaf in concert, but I am heading off to Liverpool (by train) later in the year with my other flossy posse to see the Bat Out of Hell Musical.

I must dig out that blue pastel outfit!