With Bells On…

As I sit at the keyboard, gazing rather wanly at a blank word processor, the tinkly bits of Tubular Bells start to cascade from the speakers. Sunday morning, or blog day, is a big Oldfield time round our manor. You may reflect that, in the scheme of things, the instrumental warblings of Mr O. and his tinkly ambientness, are conducive to the composition of tripe on an acoustic theme.

This is not so.

It is simply that if it was Iron Maiden at this time in the morning, the neighbours would fill me in.

So (tinkle), without, further ado (tinkle), here we go…

Be Welcome Gentle Reader, and read on…

Actually, the CD in question is TB II, which was the first official remake of Tubular Bells. There have been, since then, many, many reworkings of the title, both by Mike Oldfield, who has done at least five versions, and by others[1]. Most of them are recognizably the same piece of music.

One of them has a slightly different sleeve, otherwise might as well be the same piece of music.

Commercial considerations (Ker-Chiiing) aside, presumably Oldfield felt he had something else to bring to the table, or that he could just do it better.

Thoughts of a similar nature raced across the verdant, yet strangely deserted pampas inside my head recently when listening to some very early Fool’s Gold recordings[2].

It is an exquisite form of torture to listen to early work. This stuff was recorded rather roughly and live.

It hurts a bit.

We could do so much better now.

Probably.

But… and it is, oh my Acoustic Chums, a BIG but[3], the time spent looking back is not time spent looking forward so…

…we have a few new songs on the boil.

The Bevin Boys song is pretty much nailed down and ready for us to rehearse, there are two others, including a new song for ‘Beat The Drum’ both on the stove, in the pan and beginning to froth on the surface.

But it isn’t just the songs that are coming slowly up to temperature.

The recent success of the U3A shows in Herts has probably caught us a little by surprise. The last couple of ‘Stories’ shows we did here went very well indeed, but for some reason while away they went ‘bang’ a bit. So much so that we’ve already got next years trip pretty much organised with some new places tagged in.

But time spent standing still might as well be spent looking backwards, so, in addition to new songs, we’re looking at the whole show.

Some, highly secret, pieces of kit have been purchased from nice Mr Amazon, so that we can control the visuals better. We’re looking at improving the sound in the room, and beefing up the whole presentation side.

I’m probably most interested (and so I 8$**^& well should be) about the advances we’re looking at in terms of the music. I’ve had an array of toys floating around for a while and the bright white light of the bleedin’ obvious shone from the darkness and I realised we could use them.

The next month or two is going to be interesting. Even if it comes, as so often, to naught, it’s going to be fun.

And a hell of a lot noisier than Tubular Bells.

Dong.

This week has been pretty busy, and the next two are just plain daft.

Several Care homes, loads of museums and U3A shows coming up, and this week a new venue as we ventured to Ushaw College for their Folk Night.

It was really rather jolly to see our old Acoustic Chum Sean involved in the evening; this venue is of course the old Catholic Seminary, created by the Church for the purposes of turning little boys with Irish surnames into priests. This process waned as vocations dried up and when even the African surnames began to decline, the seminary was wound up.

What to do with a superbly gothic site?
Well hats off to the organisers as friend of Ushaw decided that, Conference and training facilities aside, it would make a great venue.

And it certainly does that.

The chapels and halls are magnificent, and for classical, particularly religious, music the venue is (in the correct employment of the term) Awesome.

Only slightly less awesome is the Francis Thompson Room, a former common room, it is easy to imagine becassocked seminarians taking their ease gazing over the Rhodedendrum toward, presumably, heaven and not Langley Moor[4].

A simple PA, and simple setup was all that was required, a straightforward bill consisting of FG, Roughshod (trad trio including a border pipist), Mike Orchard (troubadour of this parish) and Jack Burness (troubadour of lots of parishes). Great performances from all.

And a lovely evening too.

Nice room, good sound – very nice sound from a rather suspicious Peavey mobile system, the guitar sound in particular was very surprising (in a good way).

Just goes to show.

Everyone gave of their best, a goodly sized audience enjoyed it, the simple bar went very well. And there was no haste, rush or pressure.

Relaxed is a good word for it.

Jack of course showed why he is the consummate performer for such events, and in case there was ever a doubt in your minds, The Wrinkly Wroadies took the photos.

Time waiteth for no man.

I can hear the sound of Tubular Bells, so, it is probably time to go.

Once again as the barman of fate roars “Time Gentleman Please…” and in the time honoured folk club tradition, the room, as one, roars back “B£**£7 Off”, I realize it is the end of this blog.

Until next time, Acoustic Chums,

Kepp Strummin’

Plus…. Tubular Bells.

Dong.

[1] Rob Reed’s version is quite good.

[2] Including some we made under the name ‘Vagrant’. These were truly, truly, awful.

[3] Which is the origin of the expression “Does my But look Big in this?’

[4] Is it easy to confuse the two. One is place you might visit when you die. The other is a place you visit and want to die.

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A box of mixed confections…

“Life”, said Forrest Gump famously, “is like a box of chocolates”.

Equally well known, is the follow up line “you never know what you’re gonna get”.

Less well known perhaps, is the last line, which ended up on the cutting room floor “Unless you look at them little pictures under the lid”.

This week our chocolates have held a few surprises, some nice, others simply surprises. Acoustic Chums too have fumbled in life’s bag of Revels and drawn out some soft centres which, on the whole, should never have been in the bag – they certainly weren’t written on the wrapper.

So, Gentle Reader, let us, hand in hand, skip lightly down to the Sweet Shop of Acoustic Music and see what’s written under the lid.

Be Welcome, and read on…

This week one of our tastiest treats was at an evening organised by Acoustic Chum John ‘The Power’ Jeffrey. He simply got a room sorted out and asked a few Acoustic Chums to drop in and have an evening of round the room musical goodness. So it was that a few of us turned up and did exactly that, many exploring the bottom layer of Acoustic Chocolate, just to see what centres lay in store. Longtime chums jiva, who in fairness should send their box of choc back to the maker with a stiff complaint – THAT wasn’t on the lid – were a welcome treat, laying down several of their famous messhuggah-tinkle grooves to an appreciative room. Jim Wigfield (Soft center with nuts) gave a few of his self penned highly original songs, Trev and Renata[1], found some local confections to please the audience with and of course, Mr. Power himself showed that he has lost none of his joi-de-plunk and produced some very well done songs. Full Circle, that is Paulene and Ian Young also delved into the box and found some praline delights to lay before us. Ant Wilson played a grand selection using, to my interested ear, what looked like a baby Taylor – I should’ve asked Jimmy and Val, not only could they have told me the model, they could probably tell me the serial number and the colour of the luthiers boxers. I believe a local prog-folk-experimental-fusion duo also attended but they probably just lowered the tone.

The photographs are hand tinted by the Wrinkly Wroadies. They have finally grasped how digital photography works now that I have explained that it is simply magic.

Earlier, we had another surprise centre, delivered to us by the Great Confectioner in the Sky. We’d been booked at Horden Methodist Chapel, for what we took to be a church do. Certainly the venue was in the Church, and a lovely building it was too, but the good worthies of Horden had simply organized a gig round FG, and thrown it open to the community. We had a large room, filled with punters curious (presumably) as to what the show was all about. A couple of hours later they left, (presumably) the wiser and (hopefully) the happier.

They certainly should have, as we had an excellent night – people sang, laughed and generally made all the “I am having a good time” noises that we could have wished. We’re going back next year, thanks to all the organisers as it was a great night.

I have been known to chunter on a bit within the pages of this blog, often (but by no means exclusively – no-one is a better chunterer-onnerer than I) about gigs and attendances. We’ve certainly had our best year ever and part of the definition of best is ‘learning’. And sometimes that can be expanded to ‘learning what not to do’.

We had a gig at Fuse media Centre on Friday, the third I think we’ve had there. The Fuse cannot be faulted – the venue is fantastic, the main theater is absolutely brilliant. The staff are great, supportive and helpful. The facilities are really good and so the list goes on. It has however got one time flaw – which the staff cheerfully acknowledge – which is that it is in the wrong place.

Originally constructed to help the school next door deliver high end media courses, it struggled when the course (and the associated funding) were pulled soon after opening, and became a community resource. Sadly, although very near to the school, it isn’t near the heart of the community, requiring a long walk or car journey to get there. With the other delights offered by the fleshpots of Prudhoe nearer to hand, it is not surprising that the good Burghers of Prudhoe take their custom to a more convenient elsewhere.

However some folks did turn up and we had a good show – but it would have been so much better had the place been filled – it is another regrettable instance of use or lose it, which in this instance looks like having an inevitable outcome.

But we do hope not.

In other news this week I notice that it is time for the election.

Yes, The Kings Head and Washerwoman’s Legs committee is up for re-election, as is the post of Chairman.

Chairman Dave has been at the helm now since the sixties and has developed an iron grip on folk club policy, which is re-enforced and encouraged by a specially made pair of blinkers so he can’t see what is going on around him. In most cases, Dave has been elected un-opposed over the years. Maybe the job he was doing was respected and appreciated by all, maybe no-one felt they could do it better, maybe no-one knew there was an election – Dave often found it easier simply not to tell people – it was so much quicker. However, this year, a copy of the club rules has been found behind the cistern in the gents where it has been for safe keeping these last twenty years. Upon (very careful – it’s a bit soggy) perusal, it seems there should be a free and open election every year to vote in a new committee or approve the old one.

Dave has got competition.

Little Sid, known as a reformer, a rebel, a revolutionary for change – has put himself forward to stand against Dave.

Sid, now in his early nineties, is a firebrand. He wants new blood, new music, new faces in the club. As long as they don’t do anything noisy, or use them guitars, or sing songs they’ve written themselves, Little Sid is all for it.

Sid is on the left wing.

Dave wants no truck with change. Things are all right as they are. Things don’t need to change. The club will be fine and next years guest list should be the same as this years.

Again.

Dave is on the right wing.

What no-one has noticed, among the seismic and titanic battle that has erupted between these two giants of the local folk scene, is that sitting quietly in the corner is young Fiona[2]. She plays the pipes, rather nicely if you like the sound of a sack contain seven fluffy puppies being prodded with a selection of hot knitting needles, has been quietly observing the opportunity. She and her partner, have an interest in music. They have travelled. Last year they went to Sunderland and saw new acts, heard new sounds, had their eyes opened to the possibilities that lie beyond the melodeon and whistle horizon.

And they liked it.

If she stands, she may not win. Actually she won’t win, Dave will, but that’s by-the-by[3], but if there is no clear majority she may hold the balance of power.

Maybe she should stand on the Hot Puppies Platform and see what happens?

And so as the wind of change blows through the folk scene only to be defeated by the air-freshener of conservatism, I notice it is the end of this blog.

Until next time, Acoustic Chums,

Keep Strummin’

[1] New CD available now. It’s Happy, so it can’t be folk.

[2] Fiona is in her mid forties, which is why, in club terms, she is young.

[3] The election scrutineer is Dave’s neighbour Gerry Mandering.

Fishing

We have in our office a large whiteboard. The alleged function of this item is that we should write on it all the jobs we have to do fairly imminently. So posters, visits, gear checks, emails, letters of confirmation as well as eating and sleeping all go on the board. The problem is; I need another board somewhere to remind me to look at the board in the office. Stuff gets written down and my head goes down into whatever we’re doing, and the board, its contents and important little messages disappear from conscious view into that la-la land inhabited by dreamers, poets and people who think they can sell me a kitchen on the phone. Saltburn Folk Club (one of our faves) is on there for Monday evening!

However, there is one thing I never forget, so here it is, all polished, shiny and ready to go.

Be Welcome, Gentle Reader, and read on…

Monday and we in finery and ruff, for The Bridge Folk Club.

The Bridge, lest you not be from round here, touts itself as the oldest folk club for miles around. Probably is too[1].

It turned out not to be the open singers night we expected, but the Fourth Year Student showcase from the traditional music degree course at t’university down t‘road.

There are pics of the evening someplace around here, courtesy of the Wrinkly Wroadies, who despite copious amounts of beer managed to keep taking photos even when they had long since fallen down.

There were two big impressions that the degree students made upon me.

One, and this the strongest impression, was that the standard of the musicianship was simply fabulous. The players were utterly amazing. It is unfair to pick people out as they were all better than good, better than me, but not as good as they are going to be, however Alistair on the guitar was very, very good indeed and the lad on Bodhran (it probably wasn’t, but looked like a deep bowl version thereof) would be an asset to any ensemble he wandered anywhere near. Oh, and the flute player; he was great, and… and…[2]

The rest of the gang were accomplished musos, despite being light in the passage of years, were heavily burdened by raw, but rapidly polishing, talent.

The second impression, and it hit me quite forcibly, was that there was only one contemporary, original, self –composed (call it what you will) piece all night. All the covers were performed to a really superb standard, and most were a hundred years old. I cannot believe that such talented musicians didn’t have compositions of their own to show off – it would have been nice to hear some of them – I bet they would have been wonderous.

And yes, it was us.

H’mm Folk Clubs…

…it’s probably just me[3].

We were summoned to appear before the Consett branch of The British Legion on Thursday night. Not to play be to be presented with a nice certificate. Apparently, they felt the need to say ‘thank you’ for our contribution to their fundraising via a performance of ‘Beat The Drum’ earlier in the year. To get the certificate was a privilege, and the support was our pleasure.

I do not wish, in the pages of this blog, to endlessly burden you, Gentle Reader, with a ceaseless flow of verbiage to the effect: “Wow – isn’t FG doing well”.

I don’t want to but…

We’re doing ok, certainly better than ever before. The phone rings, the emails ping, and the musical life is, surprisingly, damn wonderful. We even have to say ‘sorry’ to folks; either because we’re already booked, or because I’d really like to live to see another dawn.

But I will share with you an amazing happenstance from this week[4].

You will all, Acoustic Chums, know that when touting for gigs, there can be a collective deafness, a corporate silence that blankets and smothers advances from the acousto-muso in search of a booking.

Even if it is offered for nowt.

I can’t begin to count the number of emails we have sent out, asking if people might be interested in our new show about a Carpenter who was present during biblical times at the Feeding of the Five Thousand.

Granted, ‘Fish ‘n Chippy’ was not our most likely commercial effort, but the number of times a nil response is recorded is staggering. Especially when the people you contact are supposed to be running a business or public organization.

Sheesh.

So, imagine my surprise when this week, we contacted a large public organisation, spoke to a lovely lady in the morning and by the afternoon had six new bookings in pretty darn good places.

Makes y’feel better about the world.

And no, it’s not for nowt.

They’re not on the website yet, as we’re awaiting times ‘n things, but this was an exceptionally good, if very scary week. There is a bunch of new dates on the website, should you feel so moved:

www.foolsgoldacoustic.co.uk

This week we’ve played four times. I think.

We’ve done care homes and some of our own shows too. We played to a severe dementia unit and it was the most wonderful experience. A man who never talks sang along with fervor, bless him, and there were smiles all round. Nice.

We played an organisation is Stocksfield on Thursday in a lovely little Methodist Chapel, great venue with a nice big white wall for projecting on to. This show was a blast from start to finish. We always enjoy playing, wherever and whenever, but some are better than others. When you get the audience singing along with you, and then a rather pleasing response at the end – it’s better than sliced bread.

With Butter.

And Jam[5].

So there you are; another week down and still no chance to get near the studio to work on the Harland project. It’s pretty frustrating but the only way is onward. Thusly;

Onward Mes Braves,

Onward upward, over the top,

And keep your ‘ead low,

It’s onward and upward and on with the show.

There’s a song in there somewhere, I must go and write it on the board.

And so as the inevitable last drip of the week falls down the trouser leg of time, may the warmth of Folk be with you,

Until next time, Acoustic Chums,

Keep Strummin’

[1] Just look at the residents. Old as us, some of ’em.

[2] They really were that good. Grrrrrr.

[3] …isn’t it?

[4] I hope you’re sitting down. I hope you’re comfortable and wearing at least some clothes.

[5] What do you mean, ‘Peanut Butter’? What do think I am; a pervert?

Bouncing

Here we go again.

Blog time is happy time, so you could at least make the effort to smile.

There; that didn’t hurt did it?

But the rest might.

Be Welcome, Gentle Reader, and read on…

Last week I was told off by one of our readership because there were no footnotes. As a consequence you can expect the page to be scrolling up and down like a politicians trousers.

lanchester BTD poster

When we was very little, I mean really little and were just starting out on the old folk club thing, the world was a strange and mysterious place filled with dreams. Prevalent dreams[1] revolved around the nirvana of the Folk Club world, which was (and in some ways still is) -getting a gig.

A booking.

A Gusset night, call it what you will.

Whichever term you use (don’t use the gusset one though, folks clubs are broadminded, but gusseting is unlikely to endear your cause to a promoter) a gig was the ultimate object.

Back in the day, I recall our first ever booking. We bounced, whooped and hollered for quite a while – we were quite soon told it was all a mistake and it wasn’t us at all, but I still recall the bouncing.

These reminisces have been called to mind this week as it has been a week for whooping, hollering and, should the circumstances allow for it, the odd bounce too[2].

Of course we are far too professional to stoop to such things these days. Long it tooth we are, accomplished ‘n sensible ‘n that.

So we’ve been bouncing our b*****n’ socks off.

The cause for all this unseemly up an down motion[3] is that it seems a few things have fallen into place, or the stars aligned, or God was in Her heaven[4] or something celestial of that sort.

This week we have added (we think) fifteen dates to the gigs calendar.

I mean, that’s more than Sting[5].

A few of them are Care Homes, which we are very pleased about as they seem to have come from recommendations, which is probably the nicest of the lot. We got asked to play a folk festival and a folk club asked us to do an extended floor spot – lovely. There have been bookings for our Stories with Strings show too. These are from U3A and Probus branches, the last few have had audiences of over 100, so they tend to be good fun to play.

Stories with Strings, in case you are interested, and indeed even if a B***er is exactly what you couldn’t give, is our musical show where we use a screen, images, video and technical trickery involving a laptop and a plug to tell stories of events, characters and places (often local) then perform the songs live. It goes well.

It must do, as I am chuffed to the elasticated bits to announce that on June 20th Fool’s Gold will present ‘Stories with Strings’ in the Alun Armstrong Theatre, Stanley. Promoted by the theatre, this show will be in the main auditorium, Tickets £8 adv £10 on the door. Autographs extra.

What makes it doubly wondrous, is that we are delighted to announce that opening proceedings will be Chris Milner, singer, songwriter, troubadour and part-time Turk[6].

It promises to be the best night in the complicated history of FG so far, so we really hope it’s a great night.

Bounce, bounce, bouncity bounce.

To labour the point; the images below are of one such show – not a ‘Stories’, but ‘Beat The Drum’, (similar, less jokes). Thanks to the Wrinkly Roadie press corps for the pictures.

In other news, we’ve played four shows this week, Care Homes and U3A. The U3A was in a lovely hall in Whickham; it is hard to play in the morning sometimes, but this was such ‘triffic fun that it flew by. That was a ‘Stories’ show. H’mm, methinks we’ll spice it up a bit for June. Dry Ice? Lasers? Miniature Stonehenge and dancing diminutives? Rock on.

The King’s Head and Washerwoman’s Legs Folk Club[7] is making a big push as the new year lumbers into musical action. They have decided that variety is the spice of life and have offered a special prize for visiting musicians that turn up and play a new or unusual instrument. Normally they torture anyone who has the nerve to turn up with any instrument[8]. However, they have remained true to their Folk Club prime directive – although you can play any instrument, it must be ‘Mountains of Maughan’ or the ever popular Fields of Athenry.

Chairman Dave will be the judge on the night so there will be no question of bias. There’s no need to question it, it’s just there.

And there I think I’ll leave it for another week. I mean, I’m not even here – even more than usual – as we’re playing at a house concert in Saltburn tonight. Rock Hard, Rock Heavy Rock Animal.

And so as the gig getter of fate bumps into the promoter of destiny and is booked for a summer season in kitchen at Harrods, I notice it is the end of this blog.

Until next time, Acoustic Chums,

Keep Strummin’

[1] Except the one about the custard.

[2] These days the bouncing is less about starting it, but getting all to stop again when you’ve finished.

[3] …and you can stop that sniggering.

[4] Or down the shops, either way…

[5] Terms and Conditions apply, other Stings are available

[6] Look, you really have to read this stuff regularly if you want to have and hope of knowing what is going on. I write it, and it confuses me. Chris Milner played some gigs in Turkey a short while ago, and I have never let old ‘Turkish’ forget it. Good job he’s a nice bloke.

[7] In the back room, every Thursday. It used to be free, but there’s a cover charge now. Your soul.

[8] Unless it’s a squeeze box of some sort. Which to be fair, doesn’t really count.

Bustle

Idly I sit and survey the rain soaked back yard. My mind wanders and I begin to plan a bold and single-handed crossing of the big puddle that is developing there. Mentally I construct my craft; broom keeled and door hulled, sails fashioned from teacloths and with a cardboard telescope glued to the eye not covered by a used teabag eye-patch, I don imaginary sou’ wester and oilskins[1] and, dressed overall, set off on my epic two metre voyage.

And that is the last that is seen of the good vessel ‘Inscrutable[2]’.

Gasps of horror leap from the throats of Gentle Readers across this vast globe we call home.

What can have transpired, back yard hurricane? Pebbledashed Tsunami?

Be Welcome, Gentle Reader and read on.

Crikey what a week for your chums FG.

Three gigs, radio, organising, festivalities as well as writing and re-arranging songs. Good grief where to start?

Ah, yes, I remember it all now, as if it were only last week…

The weekend began promisingly with more rehearsal with Dave, learning and polishing more bass parts; more of him later, I fancy, but at that point it certainly sounded good, with the track ‘Fool’s Gold’ gaining a definite kick in the bass. Sunday evening and Carol and I for The Cluny 2 in Newcastle, to see Skinny Lister perform. Supported by This Little Bird from Seaham; Skinny Lister were excellent. A full on folky blast of shanties, songs, and tunes delivered at 300mph and with a large dollop of enthusiasm that made it infectious.

While on the subject of theatres, don’t tell anyone – promise?

No go on; you have to promise.[3]

Thank you. Yes we are planning a theatre gig for 2013, we have a co-headliner sorted out, but at this stage, I ain’t gonna tell you who.

Why?

You didn’t all promise.

So then Monday. And another new song is born. That’s two in a fortnight which is quite good for me. This one is quieter and more of a love song. Both the new song (Year and a Day), and the other new one (Rake Down The Moon) need a lot more work before we bring them into the public gaze, but as usual, great fun. Carol and I both playing new (ish) instruments too. A quick trip to Newcastle to appear on Acoustic Chum Kyle Thompsons Golden Folk Show on NE1FM – that was interestin[4] , and then it’s Monday evening and Stockton Folk Club. There is apparently a largish Royalist faction in Stockton, as the club was relatively quiet, but we had the usual good time, and laid before those there assembled a few of the FG wares you know and love. It must have been ok as we have been invited back – subject to confirmation – later in the year.

Result.

So now it’s Tuesday, and that meant Jack’s in Stanley. Even more Royalists apparently, but we did an extended spot and had a really good time – much mid-set banter and laughter – and flogged a decent pile of CD’s for Help for Heroes. Thank you to all who supported, especially of course to Jack Burness. The news from that part of the world is that Jack is migrating – or rather returning home. The new home will be… The Beamish Mary Inn. It will be great to see a club back there again, and starting on THURSDAY June 21 8.00pm it should be the gathering point of choice for all Local Yokels.

Wednesday, as you all know, is The King’s Head and Washerwoman’s Legs Folk Club. You have to get there early to get a seat, as quite a few of the regulars have a tendency to chew the furniture. We didn’t get along unfortunately, but we have heard unreliable reports that the Hawkwind theme was well responded to by the floor singers, the a capella version of ‘Warrior on The Edge of Time’ by the Seaside Shanty Crew being the big hit of the evening. Our friends Sandy and Julian, better known to us all as ‘Sellotape’, rendered their acoustic cover of Silver Machine on ukulele and bodhran, and it was fun to see Sandy holding the Bodhran while Julian hit it with a uke. Sandy sang. Sort of.

Sellotape Live(ish)

Sellotape Live(ish)

Let us skip now to Thursday. Ashington Folk Club and a support slot for FG supporting Prelude. An interesting night this, Prelude were of course very good – and we seemed to do alright too, judging by the kind, and firm, offers of rebooking for support slots and extended spots. Thanks to Ben and Doug for their support and kind words for FG and the Help for Heroes project.

<click an image to launch the slideshow>

And the voyage across the puddle?

Storm winds they do blow and the backyard turns into a scene to freeze the heart of the most seasoned Matelot. Not this Captain however; grimly hanging onto soggy cardboard telescope and wooden spoon oar, I set course for the back door, where…

…hang on, there’s a song in this[5].

“Wrapped up in me oilskin and jumper,
Down by the docks I’ll be found,
For a wink and a kiss,
I’ll show you such bliss,
And you’ll still get some change from a pound.”

Back to reality, in time to close:

Beat The Drum (Help for Heroes EP) available on Amazon buy here

…and iTunes and CD Baby!

Just time to edge in a quick word about The Trap Nuts in May Folk Gathering – thanks to AC (and MC) Dave Foreshaw for putting together the first year of a great folk gathering – a good venue, good sound, good folks and music – it must go from strength to strength. Good on yer Dave.

And so, as the frenzied activity of the holiday week gives way to relative calm of the working week, and at the folk club, Jose Milburn, whose frenzied flamenco fingers of fate, flash across the fretboard of fantasy, and someone notices that the slinky strings of splendour were sadly stolen, resulting in a stunning strum of Spanishy silence[6] I notice it is the end of this blog,

Until next time Acoustic Chums,

Keep Strummin’


[1] Not easy with a bog roll on one eye and a tea bag on the other.

[2] Because I couldn’t get a Scrute

[3] I can’t believe how many of you just muttered ‘promise’. What are you, nuts?

[4] And great thanks to Kyle for having us on!

[5] Called “They’re coming to take me away…”

[6] Spare teeth are available at the office.