Yo ho ahoy!

Well, yet another busy weekend, back in Bristol again on Friday (anyone would think we lived here or something) and a jolly time was had by all at the Red Lion in Staple Hill; we even had a Special Guest between sets, as young Hannah, one of Lou’s music students, got up and sang a few numbers playing Lou’s keyboard (yes, we’ve gone all multi-instrumental-when-we-remember-to-bring-it-along now, folks), and beautiful stuff it was too. I was rather touched to hear one of the barmaids saying “Oh, she’s so sweet, I wants to take ‘er ‘ome with me…”; and no little surprise when her colleague elbowed her sharply in the ribs and hissed, “You can’t do that, not after last time…”

So, Saturday, and the Ferndale Club in Swindon; it’s a social club, and it’s in Swindon, so I was expecting to arrive to find an audience with the collective enthusiasm and intellect somewhere between that of a cuttlefish and a line dancer; as it turned out, our pals Swindon Al and Helen were there to greet us, but the rest of the crowd weren’t too bad.

Somehow, I will figure out how to get away with having said that.

Anyways, in fairness we did get off to a fairly slow start – Lou had abandoned her usual vocal warm-up routine in the van on the way there in favour of a prolonged bout of snoring -, but actually I think we played rather well. Apart, that is, from the moment where we realised that we hadn’t brought her keyboard along, meaning I had to jump between the keyboard backing part and the fiddly guitar solo and back again – not something, it transpires, that I do elegantly. Still, I only did it once; and I think I got away with it.

By the end of the night, we had a merry troupe of drinking gentlemen, and a few ladies, dancing around happily; after we finally finished, one lad came up and incoherently announced he would “get us a slot at Reading festival” later in the year. This, I have to say, seemed a little unlikely, since he somehow didn’t look like a major festival promoter, and in fact seemed to have all the gravitas and self-possession of a concussed duckling.

Still, you never know.

Well, certainly it seems there are some people that never know.

Anyway, seeing as next weekend it’s a nice big annual weekend holiday to commemorate the crucifixion (or is that -fiction?) of a giant bunny rabbit, who came back from the dead three days later with chocolate eggs for everybody – I’m pretty sure it was something like that – we’re actually having an entire and complete weekend off, with no gigs or anything.

I’m kinda hoping my beloved Dem doesn’t find out and start planning things for me to do…

Anyroadup, we’ll be back the following week for more fun and frolics. In the meantime, you may like to support our seasonal charity appeal; if you have any unwanted Easter Eggs, please send them to us here at Angel Up Front Towers, where we can distribute them to poor and needy orphan children, unless of course by some mistake Lou accidentally eats them, and then stuffs the empty wrappers under Ben’s bass rig to try and make out that he is the culprit.

Square on

A

NOTE: From now on, I have decided to stop writing these things whilst half-pissed…