A week may be a long time in politics, but what is it?
Bit of research needed; tap away at my friend Mr Google, and… ah!
week (wiːk) — noun
1. a period of seven consecutive days, esp one beginning with Sunday Related: hebdomadal
2. a period of seven consecutive days beginning from or including a specified day: Easter week ; a week from Wednesday
3. the period of time within a week devoted to work
4. a week devoted to the celebration of a cause
Well, that’s a load of old shoe repairers; nothing there to describe what we have been up to; except, perhaps that last definition, wossitsay?
a week devoted to the celebration of a cause
Et Voila; c’est tres bien, as they say down Langley Park. There, as the Bishop verily spake unto The Actress, you have it.
Yes, it’s been a mega week in the life of your fave folk funsters, the galloping goldies, the duo they couldn’t hang, and all the other things they call us, usually when we aren’t listening.
But what, what, WHAT?
You cry, Oh Gentle Reader and are heard, and to soothe your furrowed and troubled brow, you know what to do:
Be bid Welcome, and read on…
Crikey chaps, I need to go back to work for a rest. While we continue to grace the world of Education with our workaday presence, we therefore reap the benefits of half term hols, which, as it goes, was last week.
A chance to kick back, recharge and catch up on missed episodes of The Jeremy Kyle Show?
Not on your Nelly mate.
The busiest week since the dawn of time itself opened it’s cavernous and rapacious jaws to swallow us whole into a week of musical chollification, chummery, choonfulness and, oddly, chutney.
Monday and we in good heart for The Beamish Mary. Not for the usual reason neither. The stables had been booked out to us for the purposes of a video shoot, and several hours were spent discovering that the heating was on the fritz while Gentle Reader and Video PAL (see what I did there) Jeff worked his aputeric magic while we recorded seven full length FG epics at least twice each to camera. It must be said the man knows his onions when it comes to video, and the process was nailed in about four and a half hours. We were somewhat chilly so went home to change out of stage dresses (mine was killing me anyway) and warm up with an enjoyable home made Curry, with, as it happens Chutney.
Tuesday and up with the larks for the road to Coventry and a gig at The Shakespeare in Spon Street beckoned. A quick glance around the pleasant City Centre showed that Coventry is a town of fair visage, and much of nice Mr Hitler’s best efforts have been cleared up and rebuilt, with the exception of The Cathedral, which they decided to rebuild next door, at No. 2. Very nice it looks from outside. Not quite so welcoming inside however as apparently it costs £8 a head to appreciate the House of the Lord, so we didn’t; pausing only to overturn the money-changer’s tables, we legged it to the art gallery instead, which was lovely and, oddly, free.
A quick pre gig curry at a quiet restaurant featured Tandoori and Chutney, then on to the pub.
The gig at The Shakespeare was interesting, a large opened up room, with a large opened up PA was on offer – complete with laser light show and whizzy lights. Very Hawkwind.
There were four on the bill, us up second. I don’t know what the room must have made of our folk tinged original epics, but we were well received anyway, and many thanks to new Acoustic Chum Ian Bourne for putting us on.
Wednesday and a return to the North and a quick catch up at home, a retune a quick run through before another curry, this time with Chutney.
Thursday and probably the highlight of the week (if not the month) for me anyway. We’d been offered an afternoon spot at the Public Library in Lanchester to do the Stories with Strings Attached show. For those with terminal disinterest, that’s where we do a show with slides and presentations and natter merrily about the folks, events and back story to the songs as well as do the songs themselves – always goes well.
We arrived to set up about 45 mins before doors, and found the library staff had set up a series of rows of seats facing the performance area. Crikey, thought we, they’re ambitious.
At least we thought that until they twice had to scuttle off to get more chairs as the good worthies of Lanchester tipped in through the doors to see what we had to offer. We had a great audience, all jolly and listening and seeming to be well into it, even to the extent of the Public Library bouncing as everyone in the room was roaring along to ‘Rake Down The Moon’ at the end. Great fun and a lovely afternoon. CD’s sold and much chatter afterwards made it a grand afternoon.
That meant a pizza in the evening and it had to be sent back – no chutney.
Finally, Friday, which often happens.
A few bits of admin and a whole lot of phone calls to chase up 2014 gigs, and then on impulse we for Gibside, just to look and see how the open mic was getting on down there. Imagine our surprise when we saw a whole bunch of acoustic chums, The Lynch Mob (most of ‘em anyway) and Lyn Goulbourn whom we spent ages nattering to comparing notes and swapping tales. Host John wanted us to get up but we resisted manfully on account of not being paid in Chutney. Next time perhaps.
So, phew, basically.
What a fantastic week of Acoustic Fun. Next week will be quieter won’t it?
I wouldn’t bet your Chutney on it.
Our next gig is at The Old Church Sacriston in Sacriston (sic) on 16 Nov at 7.30pm. Not sure what admission is yet, but I can’t image that the King would require a ransom. This is a new and developing venue that we are supporting locally, if you fancy seeing what we are up to these days, you know where to find us: DH7 6AD
As the Condiment King of Folk Chutney views the pernicious piccalilli pixies he notices that his spicy empire is under threat, then wipes his brow and swears off the brown ale for ever, I notice it’s the end of this blog.
Until next time, Acoustic Chums,
 A hotbed of folk passion, just ask Turkish Chris
 What can I tell you about Spon Street? It’s medieval and harbours a number of those members of the populace who know that they live next door to the great god Amon-Hotep, to whom they must pay a daily tribute of Smoked Haddock and Twiglets.