Hey gang!
Now, THAT was a fantastic weekend. After a nice warm-up gig on Friday (well, we had to do something to warm up, it was freezing!), Saturday dawned fair and bright, and I was pleasantly surprised to find myself another year older, and still not dead.
After a day mostly consisting of lounging around and eating pie, it was off down to the Anchor in Bishopston, where there was a fine turnout of old chums, and everybody had an absolutely marvellous time; there was much singing and dancing along and some very impressive head-banging.
One bunch in were clearly of fine traditional rock band descent – the dead give away was the large hairy bearded guy wearing a t-shirt which proclaimed the superiority of bass players over all other life forms. Since also in the room was my fine old pal Ian, also a long-haired bearded bass player, my suspicions were aroused. Time to make some enquiries…
“Ben”, I ask our very own bottom-end plank-slapper, “Is there by some chance a secret international society which consists exclusively of long-haired bearded blokes who play bass…?”
Ben tries to look enigmatic and mysterious. “There might be…” he pronounces airily.
A moment’s pause for reflection.
“Of course”, I observe, “I’m in the happy position of being able to choose my friends…”
Ben’s reply is quite short, and in deference to our more sensitive reader’s, I shan’t present it here.
Finally we run out of time, the curfew has kicked in and so despite the enthusiastic baying for more (and not just from me, for once), we have to call a halt, and depart the stage in search of beery refreshment.
Rosa comes running up to me and proudly presents me with a birthday cake she has made for me…
… it took me a few moments, but yes, that is Jimi Hendrix smoking a candle.
That girl is an absolute bloody genius!
I am also presented with some delightful presents, including a book of awful jokes – you haven’t seen the last of this, folks! – and some eccentric beers – including a can of the wonderfully-named Beavertown Gamma Ray – which I shall be reporting on shortly.
All in all, that was a marvellous weekend – and there’s still some pie left :-).
Coming up next week, a possibly death-defying stunt gig…
Friday 22nd Jan – Rum Bar, Chepstow
There’s a lot to like about this place – the staff are friendly, the place is usually pretty lively, the clientèle mostly consists of attractive young ladies (at least, the clientèle that I noticed), and we sometimes even get bought cheeky rum-based beverages. There’s only one downside – the three flights of cast iron fire escape (Editor’s note: it’s actually only 2 flights but still ‘orrible] which we have to manhandle all the equipment up. This is normally quite hard work – however, if it’s icy (which I’m assuming it will be) it’s going to be very exciting indeed if we’re to avoid breaking something, or someone. Still, we likes a challenge… Time to break out the crampons and ropes…
Right, I’ll leave you with a random offering from my new book…
“Doctor, doctor, I need you to help me, I keep thinking I’m a moth”
“Well, it sounds to me like you really need to see a psychiatrist, rather than a general practitioner like me”.
“I know, but I was just walking past your surgery and the light was on…”
Square on
A