Ahoy there shipmates!
Well, a busy and interesting Bank Holiday weekend, I think – Ben is still riding high after his recent Eurovision Song Contest victory, but nonetheless still put in a spirited performance for us on the bass…
Saturday night, we rolled up at the Woodlands Edge in sunny Swindon, to be asked to “wait until the footie has finished before you start”. Hokay, no problem; although the game (between two Spanish teams, it seems, the Swindon connections for which are still a little unclear to me) – as inevitably happens on such occasions – went into injury time (“Mummy, I’ve banged my knee!”), followed by extra time (“Awww, do we have to come home yet, Mum?”), so Lou and I amused ourselves in the meantime by seeing which of us was worse at juggling. <<Please insert your own “dropped balls” pun here. Thank you>>
Eventually, the footie players on telly were all called in home for their tea, and so we set about cramming as many songs as we could into the remaining time. A rather nice evening in the end, even though it was rather late when we finally made our escape into the night.
On Sunday, we rolled up nice and early at the dear ol’ Clothears Arms in Stroud, because we know from experience that it takes quite a while to shoehorn all the kit into the little corner set aside for us. You actually have to do some thinking and planning to get it all in. Luckily I had taken the precaution of smearing all the amps liberally with butter, to ease the insertion process, and we were all nice and sorted in time. The only near mishap came when, after emptying the van, and I gently began to reverse a few feet to give me room to swing it forward into a parking slot; it seems some inebriated oaf had decided it would clever to lie down on the floor just behind the van, expecting me to pull away forwards.
Of course, I couldn’t see any of this in my mirrors, but according to Ben, who was watching the whole thing, said oaf shot up off the ground and into the vertical position at something rapidly approaching the speed of light, and then once upright, tried in vain to feign nonchalance, to the vast amusement of everyone around.
Alas poor Lou was feeling rather poorly, but she put on a brave face and was even well enough to blag a few shots from the audience to make her feel better, so she was back to her usual cheery self by the end of the night.
Next weekend, one of the highlights of the year for us – we’re proud to announce we’ve been asked again to play at the Ride Of Respect fund raising bike run in support of Help For Heroes.
This year, as well as playing on the Sunday morning at the airfield in Abingdon where the riders all gather before they set off, we’re going up the day before to play for the masses who are coming along the night before and camping over. So, if any of you bikery types do happen to be going on the run (Gina and Lucy, this means you!) – make sure you come and say Hi. Oh, and a coffee and a bacon sandwich would be nice, too.
Right then, time to venture up into the loft in search of tents, sleeping bags etc, and then dust off the battered old Festival Acoustics, invest in a bottle of JD to keep the cold out, and we’re in for some late night post-gig impromptu musical drunken camp fire fun.
And then up early in the morning to go and play to several thousand bikers from the back of a trailer on a windswept airfield.
And that, my friends, is how things should be done.