"If
it wasnae for The Weavers,what wuid we dae?" Well we'd go out and sing, I expect. Having
waved a beery goodnight to Malc Gurnham outside The Felix Holt
yesterday after a long lunchtime session I settled down,the lone
passenger, to snooze my way through the bus journey home. I must
admit, I little expected that a few hours later and in the most
excellent company of Mr. John Keaney, I'd be part of a hugely
enjoyable evening's entertainment at The Weaver's Arms in Fillongley.
Funny old world,eh?
One
of our regular Thursday meetings of The Nuneaton & District
Elderly Gentlemen's Binge Drinking Society (Folk Club Section) had
begun at noon. Fortified by Baltis and All Day Brunches ( or
breakfast and chips as Malc calls them) the banter, chatter and
general bitching had lingered on until around 5.30pm. This is what
usually happens. The fainter hearted drift gradually away during the
afternoon, leaving Malc and I to work gainfully through the beer
menu. This is where the real deals are closed. I think I'd agreed to
book Cara Dillon in at The Crown, and Malc was going to play acoustic
bass during “Bring
It On Home”
next month-but it was all getting a bit fuzzy.
Malc
said he was off later to an evening somewhere in Warwickshire. I
could only marvel at his stamina and doze fitfully on the back seat
of De Courcey's last bus I wondered what sort of superhuman Folk
Trouper could spend an evening carousing like that,after such an
invigorating exploration of the handpulled Craft Ales on offer in The
Felix? Not me, certainly.
Back
home,slippers on, mug of tea in hand,blearily checking messages, I
saw that John Kearney had been having a bit of a day of it at work.
He needed some communal singing that evening he said, a bit of a
Craic. There was nothing for it, I would have to
accompany him. So he picked me up shortly afterwards and soon we were
circumnavigating Nuneaton's road closures and diversions. ( He made
me do it. It was all his fault).
When
we arrived a startled faction of Nuneaton Camra were already settled
in there on a scouting mission, including Ray Buckler, a regular at
NFC and AFC evenings. The Weavers Arms sessions are an informal in
the round session in this pleasant Warwickshire Pub. No big egos:
everyone takes a turn and there are no restrictions or ground rules.
With a banjo, two saxophones, an accordion, four guitars and a box of
harmonicas, there was little territory we couldn't cover. John got
“We Shall Overcome,”
and “I
Wanted to be Bob Dylan”
off his chest and then was soon visibly unwinding.
 |
| Eddie Jones warming up his machine. |
Fortified
by the excellent Purity Gold served in there, we did “Down
Where The Drunkards Roll “
and “T'was
On An April Morning ”
together.
Next to me, Maria Barham churned out the hits from a Golden Hour of
Madge. Whilst over towards the bar were The Smiths. No, not that lot
with Morissey and Marr: this was Mick, his brother and two lady
vocalists. Jan Richardson brought subtlety and sophistication to the
table. Her versions of “The
Fallen Leaves”
and “Moondance”
were
sublime.
This
doesn't tell the whole story. John and I did “Vigilante
Man,” and
there were quite a lot of instrumentals. I lost count of the
variations of “Anjii.” Whoever took the vocals, they were accompanied by masterful middle
sections of improvisation. I have never heard “Bring
It On Home”
done with a Horn section before. Twin saxophones filled in between
phrases and I have to admit,that was so good, we went round twice.
John was cajoled/forced/bullied into doing his unique versions of “
Staying Alive.”
and “Don't
Worry/Irish Rover.”
We
had Folk. We had Country,Reggae,Blues, Jazz and Contemporary. The
dog next door joined in occasionally,often in the right key,and we
finished indecently late with a rousing version of “Go
Lassie Go.” Of
Malc Gurnham there was no sign. I hope he got home from The Felix safely....
