We see Nick Cave give a talk in a small room beneath a record shop. A small crowd, an intimate gathering. At the end he asks if there’s any questions. A couple of people ask this and that, but I’m too shy. I have something for him to sign in my bag – a CD or DVD – but the event ends, Cave leaves and the audience filters out.
We leave the room. Already I’m regretting my failure. We go down some stairs – the kind that comprises many short flights that double back on themselves (there must be a proper term for that). My wife says she’s going somewhere, will be back in a minute. As I wait by the aluminium doors leading out into the street Cave walks in.
He’s clearly in a rush, but I seize my moment.
“Hey, Nick,” I say, “I was at the, er, thing. It was really interesting.”
“Thanks.” He sticks a cigarette into his mouth, heads towards the stairs.
“I’ve got something for you to sign. Would you?” I fumble around in my bag, trying to find the CD/DVD/whatever it is.
“I’d love to but I’m on a fifteen minute break and I’m really pressed for time.”
He’s very polite but is obviously in a rush and slightly flustered. I can’t find the thing for him to sign. Cave climbs the stairs and is gone.
When I wake up I have Stagger Lee going through my head.