Aahh, the Blue Lagoon (or the Glue Baboon, as it appeared first time I tried to type it just there…). Always good for a giggle, and last Friday was no exception. My beloved Dem came along, thanks to Stuart’s generous new taxi service offer (Ladies, he’ll take you wherever you want to go if you give him a sausage) and she proceeded to “make a night of it” aided by her regular “pint plus Jagerbomb chaser” routine. As it was our Lily’s birthday recently, a bunch of her pals showed up too; and so we were off to an immediate lively start.
Well, hello there my little spring chickens!
It’s been a rather fine weekend, all in all – I do wonder why a four-day-weekend isn’t the norm, it’s a far superior working arrangement to the usual two-all-too-brief-days nonsense.
Obviously, on this occasion, we got the benefit thanks to this fine nation’s noble religious heritage, when we all look back and commemorate that day over two thousand years ago, when Our Lord Jesus hopped around the countryside with a basket of treats, distributing chocolate eggs to all the good little children.
Well, the Blue Lagoon certainly didn’t disappoint on the drunken audience front; helped immeasurably by a coterie of ladies there for a 49th birthday bash; the birthday girl herself making quite a pastime of manipulating her chest at band members; she started with me, but since I simply beamed back at her, have her a thumbs-up and said “Thank you very much”, she shifted her mammary manoeuvring in Stuart’s direction – since he was careless enough to look slightly shocked, he thus became the focus of her bosomy wibbling for the rest of the evening.
Right, well that’s our 2017 World Tour off to a good start, then.
Saturday night at the Rolleston Arms in Swindon – not a huge crowd, but since the rest of town was apparently completely dead, we didn’t do too badly.
And everyone there seemed to have a good time, so that was all right, then. We even had a night of special effects, courtesy of a very nice chap who was sat peacefully drinking and vaping away, producing clouds of sweet-smelling vapour – which prompted the easily-confused Stuart to ask me if I’d brought a new smoke machine. I hadn’t, but I think we’re going to have to get one now.
Yo ho ahoy!
Well, an entertaining and lively night at the Blue Lagoon on Friday; lovely daughter Lily came along with her best mate for some (now legal) drinking and dancing around. I was vastly amused watching a number of drunken youths attempting to seduce them via the medium of interpretative dance; and while our pal Muddy was sat watching and itching to thump them all, I was more in favour of the gentle tap on the shoulder and the magic words, “That’s my daughter”. As it happened, the girls declared themselves unfazed by the yoofs, so we left things alone.
Top o’ the mornin’ to ye!
Okay, after last week’s rather epic offering, I think I’m entitled to keep this week’s missive nice and short. Well, short anyway…
Friday’s jaunt up the North Face of the Rum Bar in Chepstow, despite a pretty slow start, ended up being very lively by the end of the night; unfortunately I fell foul of the dreaded stairs on the descent afterwards – manhandling my amp down the wet cast-iron fire escape, I slipped, and although I managed to save my amp from expensive harm, I twisted my knee good and proper. Bugger! That’ll see me hobbling around whingeing for a few days, then…
Ahoy there shipmates!
Well, on Friday we played what should by rights have been a very good gig at the Blue Lagoon – nice and local, great venue, a few pals in, really good crowd – so what was the problem?
Well, I’ll tell you – but I’ll warn you now, it does get a little bit sweary towards the end…
If you’re of a sensitive disposition, you may want to scroll down to where the font changes, which is where the funny bit starts.
[Editor’s note: I had to think for a while on whether to put this out or not. Maybe it’s not the sort of thing that we should have floating around and out of control on the internet as it is a bit offensive but the truth is, in all the years we have been together I don’t think we have had anyone go at it so much for so long at a gig therefore due to it being such an exceptional incident Alan can let rip. This chap didn’t annoy me quite as much as I have a drum kit as a barrier but I spent most of the night with half an eye on this person. I don’t think he was drunk but I think he had taken something, maybe an upper like cocaine or amphetamines, I’m not sure but he sure kept going and his mates were egging him on knowing that he was in a state and very irritating even if he wasn’t aware of it.]
Ahoy there shipmates!
So, another weekend, and two more new venues we’d never played before. The Cider Press in Bishopston turned out to be a bit like the Blue Lagoon just down the road, i.e. quite a big place, with a lot of people in, and various others coming and going.
Early on, Rosa had to bully the crowd quite a lot before they started enjoying themselves, but eventually they started to get the hang of it, and there was much a-dancing around and a-falling over before the night was out. Towards the end of the evening, the doors burst open and a horde in fancy dress trooped in, including a shark, Nemo, two flamingos, a strawberry, a Mexican, somebody on a dwarf’s shoulders, and, my personal favourite, an Arab riding a camel.
Ahoy there shipmates!
And, after what I like to think was a well-earned week’s jollidays, it was back into rainy Bristol for a Friday night at the Blue Lagoon. After a quiet start (thanks probably to the deluge bombarding the area), the place soon busied up, and it was quite a nice surprise to find that even after a week without touching a guitar, I could actually almost remember how to play the songs… remarkable, particularly considering that I couldn’t before.
Better still, my insanely complicated guitar rewiring job (installing a four-pole five-way switch plus two double-pole double-throw ones, since you ask) actually worked a treat, so now I can slap several pickups on at the same time – even more loudness than before! 🙂
Well, what can I say? Although we’ve had a lot of fun at various wedding and party gigs lately, it was luvverly to get back to the dear ol’ Railway Tav, court of Her Imperial Majesty Queen Amy of Fishponds, for a bit of pubby rock. In fact, Her Majesty was a little put out that we hadn’t played her favourite song (Alanis Morissette’s Bitch), and when Lou protested that she didn’t know it, she was met with a straightforward “Well, if you ain’t playin’ it, I ain’t payin’ you then.”