Good morrow, hail and well met, fine folk of Albion!
Forsooth, privy, and… that’s it, I’m afraid. I’m all out of Shakespeare.
Despite being forced to study it at school, very little of it stuck, I’m sorry to say. Except that I remember that Tybalt was “fiery”. You got a mark for that, because it was a quote, even though it was only one word. If only I’d learned another 79 words, I could have got an “A”…
Ah, well – I have to admit, I’m kinda with Keith Richards’ views on art.
Good morning, and welcome to a beautiful fresh morning here in sunny Bristol!
Now – that’s got the ghastly enthusiasm out the way, can I go back to bed now?
No?
Oh well, here we go then.
After a couple of weeks off, with band members enjoying exotic holidays in such desirable destinations as Rome, and – er – Swanage – we were back in rock’n’roll action playing a wedding over in the verdant valleys up past Merthyr Tydfil in glorious South Wales.
After having set up, soundchecked, and performed that other vital musician task – making friends with the catering staff – we sat back and drank free beer and ate free food until it was time to start.
Yo homeys!
Right, another brief one I’m afraid – largely because there’s not too much to tell this week. And partly because I have way too much other stuff that I ought to be getting on with…
Friday’s jaunt to the Packhorse on Stapleton Road went rather well – I was particularly delighted to be able to catch up with my brother, who made an unexpected appearance; and also we got to enjoy the pub’s new beer terrace – which, in the dark, looked for all the world like the deck of the Titanic – except that when you walked to the rail at the edge, and looked down, instead of a view of a nasty icy cold wet ocean, you got the much more pleasing vista of a vast sea of shiny chromed Harley Davidsons – we have discovered a biker’s nest!
[Editor’s note] Er, yes, this one is a week late. The next one to follow quite soon.]
Aloha amigos!
As a Mexican on holiday in Hawaii might say…
Anyways, I expect you’re all keen to hear what we’ve been up to this weekend; come to think of it, it’s really quite rude of us not to ask you what you’ve been up to.
So – how are you all? Do write and tell us.
Meanwhile, back in “transmit mode” – Friday, and the Trinity Inn in Bath turns out to be very cosy – as in quite small – but also as in ”My God, it’s hot in here”. Having managed to load in without getting rained on, it made no difference, as by the time we’d got the kit in place, we were all soaked head to foot in sweat. (Our own, I should point out – it’s not like there was a member of staff throwing buckets of sweat over everyone who walked in through the door. Although there may as well have been).
Hola amigos!
Well, after a couple of weeks away, it’s good to be back. Although not so good to be back at work. Obviously.
So, the big question was… can we remember how to play?
And the answer was… kinda…
Poor Ben had managed to somehow knacker his risk while we weren’t there to supervise him, and therefore spent much of Saturday night’s Cat & Wheel gig making pained expressions, poor bugger. And the rest of the time, like the rest of us, sweating like a rhino with Lhassa fever in a crowded sauna. It was damned hot in there – there was a large fan on the bar, but with a stern sign on it declaring that it was SPECIFICALLY for use of the bar staff ONLY, because it can get VERY HOT behind the bar, and it is NOT permitted to turn the fan round to point in any other direction.
Ahoy there shipmates!
I’ll keep this one short and simple – a bit like Dopey the Dwarf, I suppose. But first, I’ll give you all just a moment to try and remember the names of the other six dwarves, okay? Ready? Off you go…
>
>
>
>
>
>
…Back now? Got them all? There, well done you!
And if anybody didn’t remember the last one – it was Doc. It’s always bloody Doc….
Anyway – I digress. Saturday’s trip to the Queen Vic was a bit of an odd night – for one thing, I got told to turn my guitar up several times. That doesn’t happen as often as you might expect.
Well, good day to you all!
A mighty fine night at the Blue Lagoon on Friday; as our Em was rather wiped out after a long week in Amsterdam (apparently work can be very wearing, probably one of the reasons why I avoid it wherever possible), shiny daughter Lily kindly stepped in to cover for her this weekend.
And, as expected, a fantastic job she made of it, too. I was particularly touched by a comment from a young Ruby (previously unknown to us) who told us she was actually moved to tears by Lil’s performance. And then rather spoiled the compliment by adding, “I don’t normally drink, you know…”.
Howdy pardners!
I did – until five minutes ago have written for you probably the best one of these blogs I’ve ever created – a masterpiece of witty prose and profound insights.
Unfortunately, just as I was signing off at the end, my laptop decided to choose that moment to randomly crash, and lost everything.
And, yes, smug IT geeks – I had been saving the file as I went along, but for some arcane software reason which I have no interest in understanding, the saved file was all naughtily corrupted.
Mornin!
And, after a very busy Friday, we dragged ourselves over to Hanham to find the Cross Keys, which turned out to be a jovial little pub with such a low ceiling that even Emma had to forgo her usual bouncing around – although to be fair, it was so hot that there was little enough appetite for that – although the punters they did manage a spirited attempt at jigging about, bless ’em.
We even made one chap very happy by being the only band who’d ever been able respond to his “D’you lot know any Queens Of The Stone Age?” demand with a “Er.. mutter, mutter, mumble, mumble… Yes, we think we can still remember one…” and actually – rather to our surprise – we could. So that was one very happy camper.
‘Ow do!
My, that was a hectic weekend, 4 gigs in 3 days, it’s all a bit of a blur, really.
I’ll try and recap for you…
Friday night, and a short-notice gig at the Mill House in Emerson’s Green.
At first we were concerned that Wesley might not let us play – but we figured Emma was close enough to the right height….
Nice and local, this’ll be an easy stress-free one, we thought.
Not entirely correctly.
It transpired that Stuart had forgotten quite how the drumming goes in the Dandy Warhols’ “Bohemian Like You”; particularly unfortunate since it’s the song we started the set with, and doubly so because it starts with the drums. So, Emma announces us, and Stuart starts playing – hoping that once he gets going it will all come back to him.
