Spring II?

They tell me that Spring is in the air.

They tell me many things, and they’re not always quite right.

On this occasion, however, there may be something in the rumour, as the Stanley fog is lifting ever so slightly and the natives go abroad clad only in three layers of oilskin t-shirts instead of the customary winter five.

Lambs gambol gaily in the field, clearly unaware of what Easter means.

The fair Lady Carol has begun spring cleaning. In our case that means stripping walls, but also digging the allotment. I am not given to the outdoor life at 5.30am, so my spring cleaning has led me to undertake a full stock take of the FG big show. A check of all the equipment, and an extensive and exhaustive shopping list of all the bits we need to replace or get in order to improve.

Sound fascinating?

Be Welcome Gentle Reader and plough on…

 

The dining room has once again become a sound room, and all the gear set up. Every lead dragged out, everything set up, everything plugged in, plugged out and shaken. Every coil uncoiled and then, just for fun, recoiled. Every plonk we possess has been plonked, and in some cases plinked too. At the end of my exhaustive enquiries, I think we need to get…

…some cable ties.

I found one mic xlr that has died but otherwise, everything works pretty much as it should.

Of course Carol sneakily managed to circumvent the process by buying something before this stocktake. Her uke bass (wonderful machine that it is) is struggling with some of the more adventurous basslines, and drops volume in some parts of the upper register. It has consequently been reserved for the care home set, while she now sports a Squier Jaguar Short Scale bass for full FG shows. It’s great and has a lovely snap to it and it really helps, especially through the big PA.

It looks like I will get a bag of cable ties.

B*gg*r.

 

This week has been the usual round of rehearsing and shows. We’ve been to Leeds to do a U3A and a couple of local bits too. It’s interesting to note that sometimes the biggest shows (while good) are not necessarily the standout shows memory-wise. We did a show for a small group of Ladies in a church hall, and although there were only maybe 40 in the room, they loved it and let us know that they loved it. Carol even got flowers.

And I didn’t even get some cable ties.

B*gg*r.

 

This week there are no pictures as The Wrinkly Wroadies have not been to any of our gigs. This is not because of a sudden outbreak of musical taste on their part, but because one show was a Care Home, and while getting them in would be easy…

…the other two were booked functions so turning up with two relative piddled rellies is not good for the reputation.

I can report (as I know you’re bothered about it) that Pauline Wroadie can drink quite a lot of red wine before she falls over. Being a bit little and a lot p****d, I can report that piddled Wrinklies simply bounce and continue drinking.

 

The week ahead looks like being dominated by stripping walls as a plastering chum’s visit looms. However there’s four gigs to fit in somehow including a ‘Beat The Drum’ show which we haven’t done for a while – I must try to remember how to play in open G.

 

Regular readers will have followed my little comments about Folk Clubs over the past few weeks. These have caused the kind of opinion you might expect. Some people agree, some people disagree, most people, especially those not currently in possession of as much as a Marmoset, couldn’t give a monkeys. I will however refrain this week, as it could just become a club bashing session, and that’s not really what I’m trying to say.

So I’ll haad me gob.

Actually, I think I may open me gob on other subjects, but possibly not here.

I quite fancy starting a new blog somewhere, where I can freely moan about anything that takes my little moaning fancy.

The FG blog is not the place for me to inflict upon you my views on nice Mr. Gove (saintly man, or should be), nor my opinions on any matter other than music.

So I might.

I just might.

If I get time.

B*gg*r.

 

And so, as the sweet smell of spring drifts through the open window, I am reminded of what Farmers do to fields in springtime. It’s very similar to politicians.

Until next time, Acoustic Chums,

Keep Strummin’

 

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