And so it goes…
Regular, or at least, awake Gentle Readers will realise quite quickly that this blog edition is a little bit different. For a start it doesn’t take an hour to read, isn’t full of strange music based humour and has no photographs at all.
That is because, as I tap at my tablet in a very posh b and b in Cambridgeshire, we are getting ready for our last playing date of three, spread over a week, set round that part of the world that I would usually consider ‘The Sarf’.
Today of course, it’s just ‘here’.
So this week is more of an update, a quick post to keep the campfire burning, and to give Gentle Readers a heads up for the bumper wordfest of bloggy goodness to follow next week.
So briefly, we have played what turned out to be a full headline guest slot in Southend, had a club unexpectedly close before we played (note: that’s before, not because) and today’s activities as part of the Bishop Stortford folkfest. That should be fun as the last two days have seen us deluged with the wet stuff, the extent that last night…
(This is the only tale this week, so make the most of it)
… We decided to go to the nearby market town of Royston, in search of food, and perchance liquid refreshment. So it was the the FG Massive hit the road ‘Neath lowering skies and it wasn’t long before, trundling down idyllic country lanes we ran into a rain storm. It wetted and wetted and wetted, flooding roads, reducing visibility to nowt and making us crawl, less than majestically into town. I went for a scout, and discover that:
Royston was wet
I was wet
Royston was shut
This meant that I climbed back about the charabanc and steamed.
We hit the road again, still to the accompaniment of driving rain, and over the period of the next hour and a half trundled about the countryside discovering shut pubs, full pubs and, most often, no pubs.
Eventually we found a small, a very small pub. It was open and did do food and did do beer. There is a whole tale about the pub : I have never had a pub meal surrounded by a jumble sale – but eventually we left and punched home into the satnav.
It was at that point we discovered that we were four minutes away from our original point of departure, warmth, booze and possibly even food.
Such are the joys of life on the road.
Normal service will be resumed next week,
Until then, Acoustic Chums,