Ok, here we go.
Six weeks of some berk with a ‘virtual map’ of the House of Commons, leaping about like an exited yapdog, yipping out statistics and a’spoilin’ his pantaloons in an excess of excitement.
Which none of us share.
What we need, is a focused blast of good, old fashioned acoustic rubbish.
Now; where would you find that?
Be Welcome Gentle Reader, and read on.
I am cognicant of the fact that this, the day of publication is a special day for many, as it means that you can follow your spiritual guide and stuff chocolate down your neck until you are ill.
However, I am equally aware that others amongst this august group of Gentle Readers hold Easter (or Eostre) in greater regard. So should you heed the call of the Carpenter, The Camel Train Driver, the Wanderer, Earth Mother or other deity, guide, leader or prophet of your choice; Happy Easter or Passover.
Or Eostre, Ēostre, Ostara, Ēastre, or if you are that way inclined, Ôstara.
You will be aware, ‘cos you’re an aware bunch, that there is a fashion amongst the Glitterati, to name their offspring after the location of their conception – Brooklyn Beckham being a well known example. I strongly suggest that a much better idea is to name our folkie offspring after the instrument last touched before thoughts of doing something more interesting arrived.
Mandolin Smith would be great, Martin Blenkinsop would work, even Crumar Nerdnotion would be ok. Naturally, I am saddened on behalf of the son of well-known Uke players, Mr and Mrs Angitnotted, who is destined for a hard life every time he goes through customs.
You see (and there is an acoustic point to this) there is much in a name. Our CD’s with clever, cunning and arty names (e.g. Kiss The Gunner’s Daughter) sell less well than the ones with more obvious names.
Which gives us a problem.
As the first ‘Waters of Tyme’ show looms ever nearer (Bede’s World 13th April 2,00pm thanks for asking, see you there), we are recording the CD to so along with it. Should we call it ‘Waters of Tyme’ or ‘The Geordie Album’ or… well …
…it is Waters of Tyme. And it’s quite close to being finished too. The above paragraph, penned at the start of the week, is followed by this Sunday codicil, and the news that the basic tracks are all down. This due to the fact that we can temporarily take over the house and turn all the space we need into a recording facility. Hence the dining room is tracking and rough mix, the living room is full of guitars and bits and pieces and we’ve been able to crack on. The running order for the album will include several; well known traditional songs, it has two FG songs what people have heard and two what people havvint.
Carol’s vocals are down, as are mine. The main six string guitars, tenor guitars and uke are down, plus one track of bass. Now it’s all hands to the fretboard to complete the bass parts and add a little more in the way of embellishment. There won’t be too much as we’re keeping this one quite sparse for us, however, I am eyeing up that keyboard and sampler quite longingly…
The traditional tracks are not really done ‘straight’ but are our arrangements; although melodies have been (mostly) retained to protect those for whom corduroy is not a fashion accessory, but a way of life.
Another week down and several care homes and a grand FG show for a WI branch. They had a lovely hall of their own which was like a miniature theatre – great show and super audience. Next week, we have more of the same with the addition of a big show at Newbiggin Maritime Centre on Friday evening, where we will greatly helped by a contribution from Chris Milner, troubadour to several continents.
As it is a holiday weekend, I shall keep my musings to a minimum and start herding Wrinklies ready for a repast of Biblical proportions, which I imagine some would find quite appropriate.
And so as the sun slowly sinks on winter and the early rise of summer is heralded by Christmas cards in the shops, I notice it is the end of this blog.
Until next time Acoustic Chums,
 But wait; perchance you are a political animal, enamoured and enwrapt by the furore that sweeps over us? If so, please keep it to yourself and use the ointment.
 My Mother never got her head quite round the idea. Just ask my sister: Half Past Two.
 Shock horror, or to put it another way; probe.