There should be a rule against it.
No really, there should.
Some people doubt the existence of the condition, and medical science has yet to discover even a mildly alleviating balm to sooth the brow of those laid low by this most pernicious of ailments.
To what condition do I allude – and whom, yes, whom, must be the suffering party.
Be Welcome, Gentle Reader, and read on…
Gentlemen will tell you, although ladies will disagree, that man flu, contrary to popular feminine belief, is not imaginary, but in fact, quite real. Pnumopulmocardiopschycoidknacakrdomigawdiosis is a recognised condition.
At least by me.
Dr Robson was able to diagnose the condition after spending a large proportion of Thursday night up close and personal with the bathroom floor. God was called on the great white telephone, but after an hour or so on hold, I wobbled back to bed, the better to feel awful all through Friday. The fevered brow was mopped by the ministering angel, tea was fetched, soothing words uttered and insurance policy checked.
And THAT’S why I haven’t finished the new song yet.
I’ve got a nice chord progression with a quite nicely defined structure – chorus and so on, but had no words. Then, on Wednesday, inspiration, or alcohol, struck. I decided that an Industrial song was called for. Quite why, I have no idea, but I know better than to query the workings of my mind, as most of the time, it isn’t under my control but operates independently.
So a little research into the Industrial Revolution, weavers, looms and so on, and an idea began to form. Words flowed, ebbed and lapped against the shores of sense, without ever breaking surf. So, I carefully put the bits to one side, and waited for another dawn.
Enter man flu, and that was that; the bits are still there, but as I tap, I haven’t got back to it yet.
We have been (prior to the debilitating walking death that is man flu) rehearsing ahead of a few appearances that are coming up. The dining room has been pressed into service as rehearsal space, and the bass pedals have been pressed, if not in anger – the neighbours you know – at least petulantly, into bassy life. We are quite pleased in the way it is progressing and have even resurrected a song from back in the days of yore when men were men and wise dragons travelled abroad in pairs in fear of blokes in tin suits. This song is a short, lovely acoustic love song that we borrowed from a Finnish heavy metal band. Strange, but true. Funny how metallers write nice gentle acoustic songs innit?
As I write this paragraph, it is Friday. Unusually I am writing the blog early – well, there is so little to do when on one’s death bed, I thought I would. And it is important to recover soon, as Dave is joining us tomorrow for a rehearsal, and all being well will be joining us on stage at The Bridge next Friday night to do a few FG classics. We are sharing the bill will Acoustic Chums ItsAcoustica, and Andy has heralded the night as a fully acoustic event. Apart from a twin neck, bass pedals and a bass guitar it will be too.
And the amazing ‘bing-bong’ machine; but that at least is acoustic…
The Kings Head and Washerwoman’s Legs Folk Club met again this week. The poster stated the start at 7.30 and true enough, bang on twenty-five to nine it started. The soundman, Dave, is back in rehab, so the controls were taken by his mate Brian, who demonstrated with aplomb what the volume control is for. Not a true aficionado of acoustic music, Brian explored the technical performance of the mixing desk and was able to lend a certain colour to the guest’s acoustic guitar. It worked though. So much so in fact, that the sobs of the guest were only occasionally audible through the wall of flange, phase, chorus and the obligatory ocean of reverb.
Still, at least local duo and club regulars Sellotape were on hand to do the support slot. Sandy and Julian had clearly been practicing hard all week as it was often impossible to finish a whole review in the Folk Roundabout in between chords.
Our programme for Ryedale has arrived. That’s the weekend of 25 May and we will be playing six times over the weekend, including spots in the Village Hall and in the Main Marquee. Not at Ryedale mind. No really – look, it’s complicated, but I think it’s in Cropton. Best thing to do is to check this for full details:
We’re looking forward not only to playing but meeting up with a whole gaggle of AC’s again.
It is with sadness that we mark the passing of Dave Stephenson, an AC of long standing – back to the days of the old Acoustic Wednesday at the Beamish Mary, where his fine mandolin playing was regularly displayed. We saw Dave very recently at the ItsAcoustica gig at The Grey Horse in Consent, and a scant two weeks later learned of his sudden passing. Our condolences go to his family.
The bottom of the page is scrolling up alarmingly quickly, so as the festival season begins again, and the seasoned folkie breaks out the rust remover once more, and in the main Marquee the PA of destiny is just about louder than the rainfall of fate, I notice it is the end of this blog.
Until next time, Acoustic Chums
 Which is, let’s be fair, their job.
 Other popular feminine beliefs are available, although Terms and Conditions do apply.