Blessings be upon you, my children
Our sermon this week is taken from the Third Book of Ramblings, Chapter Three, Verse Two Hundred and Seventy Four…
Yea, And It Came To Pass That the Tribe Of Angel Up Front Were Wandering In The Wilderness For Many Years, Until The Good Lord (Martin) Saw Them, And Took Pity On Them, And Yea, He Did Lead Them Unto A Place Of Sanctuary, Which Was An Inn In The Land Of Marlborough, Known In Those Parts As The Green Dragon, And…
….you know what? It’s a real pain in the ass capitalising every word, I think I’ll give this theme a miss for now… Sorry to anybody that was starting to doze off already.
Instead, we’ll just give you the short and curlies (as it were).
So, we rolled up slap bang on time ten minutes late, to find the pub half full of folks dressed variously as golfers, reindeer, and Christmas puddings. It appears that Marlborough is on the cutting edge of esoteric fashion.
We set up, carefully avoiding the door right in the middle of my side of the the stage area, through which people occasionally suddenly emerge from the mystical land of “upstairs”, requiring me to leap nimbly out of the way before the door knocks my headstock off.
And, so with a wary eye on the Portal Of Doom, off we go; the crowd are quite jolly, and Lou gets them all singing along in silly fashion quite early on. Part way through the first set, we pause to announce Stuart’s recent birthday; we don’t actually know how old he is, as the original stone tablets which form his birth certificate were apparently lost overboard from the Ark; however, we have managed to get him a nice cake, with some candles which (as it turned out, to our vast amusement) were those ones which spring back to life after you’ve blown them out*. Thus it was that he spent most of the next song drumming away, while Lou held the cake close enough for him to “just give it one more blow”, whilst the rest of us chuckled away happily.
Half time, a quick pause for breath (and cake), and then it’s off into the second set, with much dancing and silliness, and we round off a jolly successful night with an absolutely disastrous version of “Whole Lotta Rosie”. We really must try and remember how that one goes. Probably due a rehearsal soon, I should think. To be fair, I think Ben was somewhat distracted by the fact that his bass kept on cutting out – and this despite the fact that he swapped over between his regular bass and his spare at least three times…
And maybe, just maybe, we’ll have it mended in time for next weekend…
Friday 5th Dec – Charlie’s Bar, Westbury
A new one for us, they did ask us to “send extra posters”; so either it’s quite a large place with lots of bare walls, or they have an unhealthy interest in pictures of enormous gurning bass players. We’ll see.
Saturday 6th Dec – Ferndale Club, Swindon
It’s one of the old-skool Working Men’s Clubs, so cheap beer, and an audience ranging from little old ladies through to eight year olds. So – time to wheel out the Slayer covers, methinks…
Meanwhile, whilst meditating on the subject of birthdays, here’s my favourite gem of wisdom from the inside of a birthday card, to cheer up somebody who may be reflecting, as the years turn another circle, what life’s rich tapestry of experience has taught them…
Forget the past; you can’t change it.
Forget the present; I didn’t get you one.
Square on
A
*I’d hate to think what happens if there’s ever a fire in the factory where they make them…