Having spent yesterday morning successfully chasing and photographing steam trains, I drove direct from Rugby station to Bedworth. To The Civic Hall. Where, for the second Saturday in a row, I was able to rejoin a company of good friends to perform in the part of the Foyer known colloquially as the Goldfish Bowl. The objective being to publicise the impending Bedworth Folk Festival. By singing, handing out fliers and generally having a bit of a good time.
A slightly different cast list this week. No Dave Parr, John Meechan or Phil Benson. Malc And Gill, Dave Webb, Des Patalong, John Kearney, Dave and and Julia Taylor, John Morris. and myself were joined by additional recruits from the Coventry Songwriter's Circle-John Neal, Jan Richardson Jon Harrington and Katherine Fear.
Once again the startled diners and passers-by were regaled by traditional or self-penned numbers and in John Morris's case, some Music Hall songs of an operatic quality. Sung in a timbre that shook the windows of Greggs, down in the Town Square. What an extraordinarily good voice that man has!
I'd last seen John and Dave Taylor at Banbury Folk Festival. It was good to hear again, Dave's version of " My Old Man's a Dustman, " delivered in a very passable Bob Dylan style. This combination was highly amusing. It was good also to see and hear John Neal, another local musician who hosts The Fox sessions on Monday nights. I've persuaded him to do a couple at NFC on December 3rd. John Kearney mixed up the sublime and ridiculous, as he often does, with a song about Remembrance paired with the divine "Jolly Boys." For which, apparently, I am the inspiration.Katherine and Jan sang like Nightingales. Katherine accompanied at times by Jon on blues harp. A mix of the songs that have made them what they are today. Some new-ish. A cover or two. Some I'd heard before.
As you can see, there was a certain amount of Photo-bombing going on. Dave, Malc and Gill stuck to mostly traditional material, but as always took us round the world and back in doing so. You can see Jan celebrating this in the background. Des shantied away uproariously, and with window-pane-wobbling volume. His racous shout of "WE'RE!" in the chorus of "South Australia" made an old lady sipping soup opposite lose a spoonful.
I did "On Raglan Road," "Peggy Gordon," and two of my own: "If I were a Goat," and "On Bedworth Bank."
That session turned out to be the best part of the day. Things for me got progressively worse thereafter. I drove on to nearby Nuneaton, to watch "The Boro's" death slide out of the Vanarama Conference continue apace. Boro' lost another three points and I also discovered there that I had lost my favourite Bronx Hat (Not a lucky one: Nuneaton Boro/Town don't do Luck). After half time I lost a further tooth, stupidly partaking of some chewing gum. It's not as if I have enough left to looshh. ( I mean "lose"). Just keep sticking those pins in the Ju Ju dolly, chaps. It's really working wonders.
