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…
So, on Saturday, when we rolled up at Widcombe Social club in Bath, I was horrified to see that the gig was upstairs, and thus especially delighted when Stuart pointed out the lovely shiny lift. There were quite a few bands on during the night, but the outstanding one was local young upstart three-piece Stone Cold Fiction – awesome dirty rawk stuff, really good, go catch them if you can. I was so impressed I bought one of their CDs, and was only slightly aggrieved the following morning to find that it didn’t play… I will have to enact some suitably evil rock’n’roll revenge at some point.
Rosa brought along for company her lovely little sister Rainbow Alice, introduced (absolutely accurately, as it turned out) as, “You’ll like her – she’s mental” – along with her pal Jess, who between them provided some suitably entertaining dancing for us until the other punters relented and joined in.
Right then, a few days peace and quiet and limping about, and then it’s… oh look, it’s back over the bridge to Welsh Wales again…
Saturday 30th – The Cellar Bar, Caldicot
It’s always nice and lively in here, but best of all – from my point of view – despite being called the Cellar Bar, it’s not actually underground, and so there are no stairs to contend with.
Come to think of it, given my currently difficulties with non-level surfaces – Stuart, how’s about booking a tour of Holland* sometime soon?
*Not many people know that I used to go out with a Dutch girl; she always wore these strange inflatable shoes. Sadly one day she popped her clogs….
[Editor’s note: I couldn’t find a suitable picture for this blog today, maybe I’m lazy, instead, some art courtesy of @kapka on Ello.co.]