Yet another busy weekend in the world of rawk’n’roll… frankly, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to keep up much longer…
Friday night at Queen Amy’s Railway Tav, and another fine gig from diva (that’s pronounced “divver”, by the way) daughter, and most of the Wessex chapter of Dem’s family came along to watch. Lil really is getting the hang of this rock’n’roll thing, to the point of looking out for where the chip shops are on the way in to the gig, so you don’t have to wander around looking for them afterwards.
Apparently various of her aunties and grannies were moved to “crying all the way through the set”. Personally I didn’t think she was that bad…
Saturday night, and after picking up Lou we head on down to Warminster, to the rather jolly Prestbury Sports Bar, for an evening of jolly rock mayhem. Now, as some of you may know, I’m not really what you’d call a sports aficionado, to the point where not only am I too lazy to indulge in any sports*, and totally uninterested in watching any, but I am deeply suspicious of anybody that does.
Thus, when Stuart, Ben and I venture into the gents for the traditional pre-gig tactical relief, and discover they have TV screens in there, set at eye level so that the urinating punter doesn’t have to miss a single moment of the match / game / fight, a thought occurs to me.
They’re currently showing a boxing match, and I have the following discussion with Ben, who happens to be stood immediately in front of the screen as he goes about his business.
“You do realise you’re stood there, watching two big, sweaty half-naked men laying into each other…”
“…while you’re touching yourself?”
There is quite a noticeable pause before a reply comes.
“I fucking hate you.”
This exchange appears to have distressed Stuart somewhat, for he spends the first few songs of the set launching drumsticks in various directions before he manges to settle down and hit the kit in a reasonably predictable, and almost rhythmic, fashion.
Mind you, he is generally quite distracted this weekend; his faculties have deteriorated to the point where he has thoughtfully filled his wife’s nice reliable car up for her, with a hefty dose of Esso’s finest unleaded petroleum. Unfortunately, the car’s a diesel. The care home is beckoning…
On the other hand Lou, despite her bonkers non-stop breathless lifestyle, is increasingly capable and confident and up together – until she starts talking to audiences, when it becomes obvious that her lines of conversation are worryingly random; ranging from what sound like outrageous chat-up lines – “Right then, who’s drunk enough?” – to the plain bonkers; “Everybody shout out for Cheddar cheese”, being a fairly typical example. Still, it seems to work. Maybe it’s just me that’s a bit weird…
However it works, the punters are very appreciative, we get a couple of interesting offers for future gigs in various places, and in the end we just run out of time for any more encores; marvellous fun!
Right, coming up this week…
Friday 21st – The Trout, Keynsham
It’s cosy, it’s mad, it usually gets a bit messy, and to top it all a bunch of Lou’s mates are coming along to this one. Should be a total blast, as long as Stuart doesn’t mess up his transport plans by filling the car with coal before setting off…
Saturday 22nd – Old Neighbourhood, Chalford, Stroud
A new one for us, I have a feeling it’s going to be a delightful country pub halfway up a hill in the middle of nowhere. But I could be wrong.
That’ll do for now, I reckon
*outside the bedroom, that is. Thought you’d like to know.