Ron

A relic of the fabled summer of ’69, Ron was too intoxicated to realise the celebration was unfolding miles away in California. Instead, he stumbled into the Eastside Hotel—and never left. An inconspicuous two-chord contribution to a minor record, which later found a home in a salad dressing jingle, granted him the means to buy the neglected hotel and provided a meagre yet stable income, supplemented—when necessary—by ventures not strictly legal.

Years of relentless indulgence, whether snorted, injected, or imbibed, have left Ron with a demeanour both hazy and affable. Much like his namesake and former drinking companion, Ronnie Wood, he retains a certain charm that still, on occasion, earns him an admiring glance.

The melodic strains of his guitar drift through the air as Ron tirelessly searches for the elusive third chord that will complete his latest masterpiece. He dreams of a grand comeback, a return to the glory of his youth, but the whereabouts of his bandmates remain a mystery—lost somewhere in the haze of time. If only he could track them down, perhaps a reunion tour would follow, breathing life into the music that once defined him.