Yowsa!
Well, there weren’t that many punters in at the Dolphin on Saturday, but those that were provided good value entertainment – starting before we’d even managed to play a note.
Just before we started, as I was returning to the stage from what we musical professionals refer to as a “tactical leak”, and Stuart was sitting head in hands waiting for the rest of us to come back, I heard on of the nice cheeky ladies at the bar ask him,
“Are you all right, love? Do you want a hug?”
Hello playmates
Well, another weekend, another gig, another few beers down the hatch, and a few more dB’s notched up on the tinnitus threshold…what’s not to like?
Friday’s jaunt to the Air Balloon in Filton was rather pleasant – it wasn’t until we soundchecked that we remembered how much they like joining in here. A couple of horny-handed sons of toil even joined in with the loading in – albeit mercifully briefly – after watching two of them puffing and panting, struggling to haul my small amp up a few steps, nearly dropping it in the process, I was quite relieved when they decided that was enough for them, and went back to their lager-quaffing.
Aloha!
And a warm welcome to this week’s little episode of rawk’n’roll strangeness.
I’ll keep this one fairly short, as it’s too nice a day to be sat inside banging away on a keyboard for the dubious benefit of you lot…
Friday night at the lovely Railway Tav in Fishponds, and a huge fun gig, enlivened by the presence of Stuart’s lovely sister, who had come all the way over from Canada, for the sole purpose of seeing us*. It was also enlivened by lots of punters jigging merrily around all night, and I personally was particularly pleased by the nice ladies who were queuing up afterwards to buy us all a beer. I like it when that happens.
Hey folks
A weekend of contrasts in rawk – Friday night at the Giant Goram in Lawrence Weston – always a rather informal affair – was enlivened by the presence of our new best mate Tia, who spent the first set dancing around enthusiastically to everything, and then at half-time appeared with a large tray of shots for the band.
We rather liked her.
Even more so when she told us the tale of the last time she went out to see a band.
“I don’t get out much…”, she tells us, “…So anyway, the last time I went out to see a band, I was having such a great time, I was dancing around so much that I was sick on the floor”.
Ahoy there shipmates!
A whole weekend off, which turned out to be no bad thing in some ways, as last week was – well, a bit of a bugger, really, for some of us.
On the other hand, most weeks turn out to be a bit of a bugger, one way or another, and there really is nothing more therapeutic that jumping around making a bloody loud noise. I heartily recommend it, I’m sure it’s much more effective at relieving stress than the “meditative colouring books” I recently noticed for sale. I can’t help feeling that if your troubles can be resolved by sitting down for an hour with a pack of felt tips, you probably don’t have enough troubles.
Yo homeys
Well, that was an odd one. We fetched up at the Anchor in Bishopston on Saturday, to find the the nice little stage area they used to have has been taken down and covered with tables and chairs and punters, and we instead were presented with an “intimate” space to set up in. After a little head-scratching and moving a few affable customers over, we managed to shoehorn ourselves in.
The pub itself was rammed full of footy fans – the match just up the road had just finished, plus there was another game on telly – so much so that the door staff were operating a “one in, one out” policy – meaning that several folks who’d come to see us actually couldn’t get in until the second set, when most of the soccer fans had had their fill of lager and were feeling quite tired and ready for bed.
Aloha!
[Editor’s Note: I accept that the image that goes with this post may be in bad taste; I just can’t figure out in what context.]
Well well well, three gigs in a weekend, it’s getting just like the old days. We arrived at the Millhouse in Emerson’s Green, bagged the cheeky last parking spaces, and hauled in. As we suspected, this was a “family pub”, not used to having bands on – although I did like the fact that we were told “You can store your empty cases in the Wacky Warehouse”…
Helloo there, my little Easter bunnies.
We hope you enjoyed the extended weekend, and trust you were all suitably solemn in remembrance of what this important religious festival commemorates; the true meaning of Easter, that time of year when Jesus skips merrily around the countryside with a basket of chocolate for all the little children.
Something like that, anyway; I must confess I wasn’t really paying attention to that part in school.
Right, well we had a fine couple of evenings gigging; although, having had at least two sleeps since then, I can’t really remember anything much about them. Except the owls. The owls…
Good morning!
I really am beginning to think I’m getting too old for this…
Maybe it’s time I took to playing slide guitar instead, sitting on my back porch in a rocking chair and playing s-l-o-w blues riffs. Thing is, I’d need to get a dog, probably – I suspect it’s written somewhere in the Blues Byelaws.
Of which there are quite a number, come to think of it; for example, the list of permissible Blues Beverages (permitted: black coffee, red wine, bourbon whiskey; forbidden: Lucozade, chai latte, Prosecco).
Yo funsters!
Well, another busy weekend goes flying past, narrowly missing my head, and hurtles noisily into the wall behind me with a sickening thud.
I’m not entirely sure what that last sentence was about, but I for one rather enjoyed it.
Friday’s outing to the Trout in Keynsham was – for once – a rather dry affair, we managed to get through the night without any of us or our lovely expensive equipment getting covered in beer. Nonetheless, there was a satisfactory amount of tomfoolery going on – this week’s air guitar champion was the lovely Holly (apparently), who rocked out far above and beyond the call of duty, putting the regular Trout loonies to shame, in fact. Well played, that girl!
