Pinch Punch...

The first Wednesday being the 1st of December this month, last night's Nuneaton Folk Club  evening caught a few out.  And although no one had any stuffing and there were no turkeys on stage, there was still a faint Festive tinge to proceedings. Aptly the headline band for the month of the Winter Solstice were Greenman Rising, on home turf like our (fragmented) House Band Nunc. 

    Nunc had been reduced to a trio. With guitarist John Kearney and singer Flossy McDougal sidelined because of medical issues, Jon Geoff and Paul flew the flag. Paul's song "Mr Moonshine" started proceedings, Vigilante Man followed and Paul took the lead vocal again with a Doc Watson song "Sitting On Top of The World." We had a running order and a set list which we'd torn up and re-written several times beforehand. 

Right on schedule, Tyburn (Jan Richardson and Hedley) followed us up there. They are a Warwickshire outfit and no strangers to NFC. A loner floor spot gave them more of a chance to air some more of their interesting arrangements such as  "Little Wing" 

Sam Shemmell delayed by traffic, arrived just before proceedings began. After the briefest of soundchecks he was thrown straight on ( Though not in a literal sense. We'd had Sam doing a floor spot at our previous venue but for some of our audience his massively distinctive voice took them by surprise. With vocal projection like that he doesn't really need a P.A. He filled the room. His arrangement of "Caledonia" was particularly imaginative, showing the Dougie McClean song in a whole new light. 

The men (and women) of GMR put a lot of time into production and rehearsal. Exemplified with a very thorough Sound check beforehand and arrangements and adjustments still being made into the second half.  The vocal range is frankly, astonishing. When playing fully in synch they make an impressive sound. The array of instruments is at times dazzling. At one stage three separate forms of woodwind were being played by separate musicians. With melodeon, bazouki, two fiddles ,two guitars and of course Steve Bentley's compulsive drumming.  

Several  favourites from their 2017 album Devils and Doxies were aired. (Many of which we've played on Anker Folk). Bedlam Boys, Winter Winds  and The Bonny Ship The Diamond for example. Many of us have been looking forward to a new GMR album release for quite a while now. 2022 apparently, so not long to wait. Until then, get to see them when you can. They are spectacular and entertaining. Or as one excited audience member started whooping at the end of numbers towards the end of the second half, " Get In!" 

Our thanks go out again to Ross on Sound, Aaron behind the bar and to Rich Burlingham for ensuring the facilities were as safe and clean as possible and for continuing to supply thirsty Folkies with a supply of Church End Real Ale from just up the road. Boston Fat Boy on this occasion which was divine. 

Thanks also to Kevin Hargraves, John B.Smith and Jon Harrington for the photos reproduced here. 

    

Fandango Christmas

 

After the first street was covered, Roy swung Dorothy expertly into another. He switched the microphone back on and bellowed:

' Ladees and Gentlemen! We will shortly be entering Arsehole Avenue and then continuing on to Wankers Way'

' Roy! Come on! Keep it down, eh?' hissed Michael,' I've got to deliver letters round here again after Christmas! Think of the Customer tips, if nothing else!'

Roy lit another fag and watched from the cab as Michael fawned over the kindly old lady who had given him a ten bob note yesterday as a Christmas Box. Dorothy's engine burbled along on tick over as Roy kept her alive, dabbing the accelerator pedal rhythmically with his foot.

' Morning Mrs. Perry,' smiled Michael,' Isn't it a lovely day? '

' It is!' agreed Mrs. Perry.

' This looks like those lovely paper doilies you ordered! ' said Michael. 'Will you sign to say you've had the parcel for me, please?' Mrs Perry scrawled on Michael's forms.

' They said it's going to rain later on though,' she added.

' Oi!' screamed Roy, poking a head out of the coach window,' Get a bleedin' move on Scottie, you idle git! We've gotta be across at Testicle Terrace by ten o'clock!'

By the end of the day Michael was immune to Roy's banter, his filthy jokes and his continuing invention of dirty street names. In fact, he began inventing a few himself. By the end of the shift they had navigated Bollock Boulevard, Cunnilingus Crescent, Tittenham Court Road, Brassiere Broadway and Mammary Drive. Roy dropped him off after their third run, outside the Post Office. Michael swung the empty sacks over his shoulder, grabbed the paperwork and waved goodbye as Roy nursed Dorothy off towards the garage.

' I'll fix it!' shouted Roy, waving a victory sign out of the driver's window as he pulled away.

Roy never did fix all of Dorothy's ailments but he made a few improvements including quietening the engine and charging the battery. This was a mixed blessing as on colder days he would insist on having the heater on throughout. On one occasion a badly packaged consignment of Samroo’s Chocolate Reindeer and a dozen Advent Calendars melted and fused all over the back seat.

Roy livened up Dorothy's interior with strings of Christmas lights connected by crocodile clips to the battery. He also acquired a large farting Santa, who postured, danced and noisily broke wind whenever anyone entered or left the coach. He had somehow cleverly wired up the ancient coach radio to play “Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree” whenever Michael opened the (now mercifully operational) sliding door.

' A gadget from them Samroo Boys again,' Roy explained. ' Got some fabulous lines, they have.'

On each outing, Roy hurled Dorothy up and down precipitous slopes, backed her in and out of tight cul-de-sacs and eased her through the gaps between expensive parked cars. Michael watched through hands held over his eyes. At Michael's request Roy stopped hanging out of the window at traffic lights and shouting lewd unseasonal suggestions to passing lady shoppers. Some were old enough to be his Mum.

Roy was allocated Dorothy every day. Michael often wondered afterwards if he ever did really get “back on the Margate Run” with a filthy mind and potty mouth like that. They made a strangely efficient team however, and having finished early on Christmas Eve, not through skiving, but because they had delivered all their parcels more efficiently than any other crew, they clocked off and shared a few beers around the corner from the Post Office. True to his word Mr. Harrison had conjured up what he termed “a little bonus” to acknowledge what had genuinely been all their hard work. Roy gave Michael a final lift home.

'Here we are then! Tampax Towers', he said.   He offered Michael his gloved hand.  ' It's been all right, though, ain't it? It's been a great laugh! I've really enjoyed it and thanks to you I've made a few extra bob.' He laughed, as a look of fleeting concern swept across Michael's face.

'No, not like that though, you prune! I never nicked a single thing! And that, trust me, mate is a first! I had a bit extra in me pay packet, what with the bonuses and getting extra shifts and all that. And there is a lesson for us both.'

' How come?'

' If you're having a good time together, work's just about bearable, ain't it? Eh?'

Michael shook Roy's outstretched hand.

' Merry Christmas, Roy. You're a nutcase.'

' Likewise, you tart. And if you're ever over Lewisham way, just look me up. You got my address, entcha?'

Michael shook his head, doubtfully. Roy handed over a crumpled Christmas card.

' You can read, can't yer? Educated kid like you?'

' Yep. I see it. “69 Gonad Grove”. Cheers. Roy!'

Dorothy and Roy rumbled off through the estate and into the darkness leaving a vile-smelling gaseous orange fug swirling about the base of the flats. Michael picked up an armful of carrier bags and headed for the lifts.