Hang on…

Hold, cease and desist – and while you’re doing that – thank you!

I refer to all you lovely (and intelligently discerning) readers out there who have been to the blog site to read what I haven’t yet writted.

Until now, that is.

Reasons why I’m late, the full inside story, the lowdown and the full SP will of course be revealed below, but in order for that, it means I must bid you welcome; Gentle Reader, and read on…

Last week was quiet in the strange world of FG, but this week has been busier and rather more betterer.

Monday we sallied forth down the old 167 to visit John Snowball at his comfy (if a bit chilly round the extremities) Aycliffe Village FC at home at The North Briton every Monday in, appropriately, Aycliffe Village. A grand night with some friends and faces we’ve not seen in a while. We dug out two spots and were honoured to finish the night with ‘Captain Cried’, our new(ish) singalong in the folk tradition.[1]

John was kind enough to suggest that he may have an FG shaped hole in the events diary around May next year, for which we are very grateful. That was a good night.

Midweek, a call from John Kelly, the MD of Croxdale FC held at the Daleside Arms in the aforementioned Croxdale on a Tuesday evening. Would FG like to be guests of the club on Tuesday Feb 28th? Yes please and thank you – this is shaping up to be a good week.

Next, more work by Carol and your scribe on the ‘Ballad of Sam Coles’ for the uninitiated FG Blog virgin[2] who may be rolling eyeballs past this drivel for the first time, TBoSC is a prequel to our song ‘Fool’s Gold’ and tells the story of how Sam came to be a gold miner in America. His name is also that of the quiet one[3] in Stormcrow and Sam has kindly agreed to lending her name to the song. The point at stake here is that she’s seen the lyrics and happily approved the use of her name, so soon, my pretties, soon…

Recording gets ever closer, the studio has been tidied and got ready, as soon as a window of time pops up (next week most likely) I think we’ll bash on with the guide tracks and see what comes out of the speakers in the end.

The final piece of news concerns an unlikely event for us. Saturday Night saw us in The Green Tree Tudhoe booked to play in the bar.

Folk music on a Saturday night in a bar works only in those pubs for which a foaming tankard, full beards and Aran sweaters are de rigeur; usually. As it goes we had a really good evening, some listened, some absorbed, some didn’t (fair enough, it’s a pub) a surprising number sang along and the night passed without incident save for lots of enjoyment had be one and all.

And an immediate re-booking too – that’s what we call a good night.

So, why no blog on a Sunday then? Well, Facebook chums will have noticed that Carol put up some remark mentioning a wedding anniversary. Good job she did, gave me a chance to nip round to Asda for a bottle of Chablis and a bunch of something with green bits on. Yes folks, six years of wedded bliss, with never a cross word[4]. So it was we for the curry house on Sunday Evening, no music played, nor songs writted, just me gazing deep into Carols eyes, you see I forget if they’re green or they’re red.

And with that comment, I see that the thick ear of destiny races towards the cheeky sod of fate, and as the polished acapella guest act runs foul of the determined resident accordionist, I notice it’s the end of this blog.

Until next time Acoustic Chums,

Keep Strummin’

And lots of love to Carol

 


[1] What does ‘In the folk tradition’ mean? Easy. Death, primarily, and preferably before the first chorus. A sprinkling or two of erstwhile virgins, and a reference to ale, and basically, you’re there.

[2] Welcome and consider yourself consummated readers.

[3] All things are relative; being the quiet one in Stormcrow is like being the smallest atomic bomb.

[4] Terms and Conditions Apply, some items may differ from the descriptions in the advertisement.

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