Police line – do not cross…

I am sitting at the keyboard, attention divided jointly between tapping a missive for you to enjoy, Gentle Reader, whilst my attention is being hijacked by David Sedaris. Mr. Sedaris, courtesy of the wonders of t’internet, is telling me a story. He is one of my wordsmith heroes, possessed of a wonderful ability to weave worlds from words.

It’s a tough act to follow.

Let’s see how it goes.

Be Welcome, Gentle Reader, and read on…


So, it seems that life as an Acoustician, is not as straightforward as I, in my fluffy pink imagination, had thought it might be. There are things to consider, factor in, weigh and judge. Stuff I hadn’t considered when the bright lights beckoned.

Oh sure, I’d thought about the playing and practiced hitting all six strings (at once – imagine), I got the hang of G, C and eventually D and even wrote a little song to go with them[1]. We even thought about stuff we might need and in due course PA, websites, CD’s and even a clean shirt duly appeared. And Carol parped merrily in time, with many the flourish – and until you have flourished your parps, believe me, life is incomplete[2].

But it seems there are some items in the risk assessment that I had neglected to factor in.

Chief among these is the driving thirst that audience members have to end it all, using as their means of exit from the astral plane, your equipment.

We set up very carefully. We use a lot of gaffer tape (and not just recreationally) to make sure that trip hazards are eliminated, or at least as a salve to the soul, almost eliminated.

We set up in sensible places, not in front of the loo door, or worse near the exit where it’s always possible that one may be killed should the audience go for a mass escape.

Once set, up we hover[3]. Smilingly guiding audience members who would like to end it all, or find that unaccountably, the only place they really want to get to, is that bit of the room directly behind where we have set up.

I never knew that the back wall of a stage was such a des res.

Recently we set up in a small hall with a big stage.

In this setting we’d prefer to play from the floor and put the screen up on the stage, it tends to work better that way. However, punderdom in numbers meant a rethink and hence, we headed for the stage.

However, the screen meant that the projector had to stay on the floor, at the front.

In order that public safety may be defended to the last (not to mention our projection set-up) I put the gear as close to the stage edge as possible, and had a brainwave.

“I know”, thought I in my little thinky voice, “If I put a couple of chairs around the projector, it will keep people off the gear”.

It would appear that to an audience person, a chair carries one message and one message only.

‘Sit on me’.

So it was, that when the projector was on, the computer whirring and the images playfully dancing across the screen that a bloke came and parked butt on the protective chair, his head actually underneath the projector – and –this is the best bit – facing away from the stage.

I hope he enjoyed the show.

Why should I try to change him; maybe he’s happy that way.


Recently we played at a Methodist Hall. Lovely places all, but this one had an additional dimension.

It would appear that the ladies of the congregation had in the past been treated to (presumably) unwelcome floor shows, as the door to the gents netty gave on most visibly to the area in which most visitors would be engaged in the purpose known locally as widdlin’. To this end an addition had been made to the gents. It was a saloon door. Just like the ones in the westerns, and it was placed just behind the regular door, in front of the pot of purpose. So upon entering, you opened one door, then swung into the saloon, and stood busily, hoping the thing was not going to swing back and push you into the unnecessary. I had hoped a piano player might bang out a bar room jangle, but upon reflection that’s probably just silly and anyway, it was a Methodist Hall.


This week has been another fun one. Six shows in six days, three care homes and three big shows. We have covered the North East again, and we had a great time thank you very much. The audiences seem to have been happy enough too, judging by CD sales and cards gone out. The bookings are still coming in for 2016, and rather scarily, for 2017.

Also confirmed this week is our latest proper theatre show, which will be in Hitchin later on next year. The Queen Mother Studio theatre will be our home for one night only, and we are looking forward mightily to that.


In the meantime, there is a wealth of jobs to do. More songs to finish off (four at the last count), new visuals to go with them (some nice bits happening there) and of course the round of current shows.

Oh and a new website.

That will be up pretty soon, do check it out and let me know what you think.

So things are busy here at FG towers.

At the moment I’m searching the internet for a roll of Police Incident Tape. Most of it says, ‘do not cross’, but for our audiences I’m looking for one that puts it a little more directly.

Suggestions on a postcard please…


And so as the lemming of time races towards the clifftop of destiny, I notice that somehow the moths have got at the safety net of fate.

Watch the first step, it’s a biggie…

Until Next Time Acoustic Chums,

Keep Strummin’


[1] Several times.

[2] Maybe the next CD should be called ‘Flourish Your Parps’. I can hear the chorus now…

[3] No. Not literally. Yogic flying is not yet part of the act.


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