Autumn Drawers On

 

     After a lovely sunny day, for the first time in, oh, ages, my alpine drive across the High Sierras of North Warwickshire was completed in gathering twilight, as I joined revellers ( is that too strong a word?) at The Bell in Monks Kirby last night. For a gathering of Sly Old Dogs and Friends. I saw only two rabbits and a blackbird on that drive, so the odds on a below average attendance on arrival seemed high. But the room was once again busy, and in addition to The Pack there were numerous Friends (me included) to add to the musical goings-on. I was looking forward to the evening, as I had missed the previous two-one due to an altercation with another vehicle en route, and the other because I was confused. People say I still am.

     I arrived early to distribute table fliers for a new Folk Club, opening in Nuneaton next month. (Did I mention that?). As Sly Old Dogs are the guests there on November 5th, it seemed a sensible thing to do. Sean Cannon joined us last night too, and with the audience pounding the tables and screaming for more, after he'd finished ( I think he pays them), I stupidly forgot to plug his future appearance at NFC, too. Oh well. You can see more of Sean when he comes to The Crown. (Did I mention that?).

    Mine host Paco played a spirited part in last night's proceedings. More accurately, he played spoons on a couple of SOD's numbers, and duetted rather touchingly with Sean on a Spanish song. Looking into each others eyes across a crowded room, it was all rather disturbing. A bit like Rene and Renata for the Clinically Insane.Other singing and playing guests included Cheryl, Gerry  Carol  Gillespie, Colin Squire and Eddie. For the record, I did " Thirty Foot Trailer" and a Parrot original," Down Our Street" which always goes down well with this audience.

         The spectacle of Bob Brooker, complete with new haircut, and strumming his giant Bazouki (Matron!), hairy legs akimbo and whilst wearing a stunning pair of voluminous green shorts, was almost more than the faint hearted could take. But it  was near matched by Paul Kelly, newly perched atop what appeared to be a Builder's ladder. In fairness, this did enable him to deal with the regular heckling more effectively. He told us it was to help heal an injury incurred whilst mixing cement. During Paddy on The Railway, Paul's dangling legs, barely able to reach the bottom rung, twitched  and danced convulsively. It was all a bit macabre, and like watching one of those mannequins in a glass encased end-of-pier slot machine. The orthopaedic chair ( if that's what it was, not something from his garden shed) also empowered Paul to dish out virtually every pun on steps, chairs and bad backs known to man and beast.

      Talking of John McKintosh, my suave and erudite co-compere from RODFEST only a couple of nights previously, he plucked bass for the Slys.  John and I were just plain and simple entertainers last Thursday at The Tump.  ( I was plain). I always say there is nothing like good comedy, and that's exactly what you get with John. (Read it aloud).  He proved once again that he is to Stand Up what Genghis Khan was to Gynaecology, as he told jokes which would get him beaten with a Shepherd's crook from Corwen to Llanfairfechan. But John gets a tick from me, for referring to one table of hecklers as "Waldorf and Statdler."

     Proceedings in the third of three halves (that's the New National Curriculum Maths,by the way) were enlivened by the spectacular aerobatics of a crazed wasp, attacking both musicians and audience, and a Crane Fly which landed (fatally) in my pint of Shandy. Perhaps this heightened insect activity is why our audience began to thin a little, as the night drew to a close? Take heed, would-be Nuneaton Folk Club performers. (Have I mentioned that at all yet?).  Leaving early, or just after you've done your spot is very bad form in the Parrot's beady eye view. Your thrift given will be very short indeed, if you come that malarkey with us.  And don't give me all that Old Sailor about missing the Last Bus. There aren't any buses in Monks Kirby. The stagecoach and Hansom Cab haven't even got there yet.

   

    

RODFEST!

It was just one of those occasions when you had to be there. But I'll try to do it justice, for those who missed it and had wanted to be there. I'm sorry for you if you did miss it, for it was memorable event. One massive collaboration, to pay homage to a great singer, writer guitarist and performer. Mr. Rod Felton. What a tribute, that so many turned out, proving that acoustic ethnic music, whether traditional, self-penned, blues or contemporary, can still fill a big room, midweek, in these cynical times.

I've never seen the music room at The Humber Hotel full to overflowing. Not a chair free, not a space left in the Car Park nor in the streets outside. An audience which spilled out into the garden and into other rooms. Like his funeral and the Wake at The Whitefriar, people came from far and wide to share the slowly easing grief of losing him, and to celebrate his life.

So many people to thank before we even get on to the performers. Karen, Rob Armstrong and Sheila, for seeing the concept through to reality. Volunteers like Sue Phipps, working tirelessly to lay out and clear away the catering. Chris Tobin for masterminding the sound throughout, and thereby sacrificing the opportunity to play himself. The bar staff, soldiering on gamely, as a big crowd, clearly in the mood to enjoy themselves, damn near drank the place dry. And I'll say it (as no-one else will) , the whole show was inimitably and seamlessly compered by Folk's Ant and Dec, Geoff Veasey and John McKintosh.

And then, let us salute the performers. Many with a tale to tell. All bar one (the Mighty Aral-of which more later) with a song or two to sing. Keith Donnelly,Carol Gillespie, Stephen and Sara Bennett, Dan Gascoigne, Kathleen Fear and Sally Ann Veasey, Dennis Clarke, Julie Neale, Thruppn'y Bits, Terry and Jan Wisdom, Sean Cannon, Pete Willow,Joe Beale, Rik Middleton, Black Parrot Seaside, Terry St Clair, and to close the show, Rob Armstrong,Sheila Rigg and Nick Wroughton.

Dennis, Rik, Pete and ourselves were amongst those to bravely tackle a Roddy song. For let me tell you, so complex are they, in notation and vocal phrasing, that they take some copying. And those who knew his performances well will tell you that he often changed words around and rarely let anyone see his guitar tunings.

Aral (or Arul) is a stalwart of The Tump, and has turned up at Parrot gigs way back into the Rock area. ( That giant SkyRocket, going rogue and creating havoc in the Police Tent during one of our sets at an early Godiva Festival? Did he have a hand in that? He just grins whenever I remind him of it!). He did a comedy routine involving imaginary chewing gum and Keat's poem “The Wreck of The Hesperus”, which combined mime, Chaplinesque comedy and circus clowning. Brilliant.

Katherine Fear and Sally Anne Veasey were good together. I'd not seen that combination before. It works. They should resurrect it. Jan and Terry (or is it Terry and Jan?) got our feet tapping, Julie Neale tugged heartstrings with “ Tears In Heaven” and the Thruppn'ys made us smile with two of their more vulgar routines. The young Bennetts and Dan Gascoigne brought youth and guitar wizardry into the equation and Sean Cannon was, well, as always... Sean Cannon.

As for us-The Bold Parrots-newly cemented as a permanent foursome (we've made David Parr sign up on contract), we were a little anxious beforehand about doing “Curly.” It's probably Rod's greatest song, and I knew it had personal sentiment for some people in the room. But we were well pleased with our rendition (after only one rehearsal) of it. We wrapped up our spot with two BPS originals “The Odeon” (which Rod told me, first time he heard it,” that's a keeper, mate!”) and “ Albert Balls” another one which always used to make him laugh.

Before the Show, as is my custom when appearing at The Tump, I'd got the bus into Cov. and spent some time lost in reminiscence and nostalgia. I had an early pint in The Whitefriar-one of Rod's favourite haunts. Then I walked past my old school, my old house, where I used to play on bomb sites and in factory yards, and across where the old railway line used to be. Deep in memories. Up Northfield Road, where I used to live. All student bedsit land now. And into The Humber Hotel.

Admission was free last night, but by donations and via the raffle, £516 was raised for The Felton family's nominated charity, the Tibetan Education and Relief Association. Was I conscious of Rod's spirit anywhere? In The Alehouse and in the streets of Stoke, no, not in truth. But in that room last night? Oh yes. He was there. As so many people said, “He'd have loved it.”

One final thought. We have generated together so much love and goodwill, first at Rod's funeral, then at the Wake, then last night. We have filled rooms, chapels, pubs and concert venues. With song, laughter, networking and fund-raising. Need it all end here? Need that momentum now be forgotten and then lost? Couldn't we make RODFEST an annual event? What better way to make our tribute permanent?

Bleating wonderful night at Ridge Lane

    One might have expected August to be a quiet month in terms of AFC. One would be wrong. Although some regular performers were away or indisposed, that did not affect the quantity of acts on show at Church End Brewery Tap on Wednesday. Nor the quality, judging by the audience response. ( I would say that though wouldn't I, as Black Parrot Seaside, having booked their spot ages ago, were honoured by being given the privilege of rounding off an excellent night?)

    Phil Benson and Steve Beeson kicked off both halves, and the room was full. It remained so throughout. Steve was looking and sounding distinctly woozy, due to the onset of what he described as Man Flu' and the absence of his partner (and FITJ band member), Anne. The spectacle of Steve singing as  Phil rushed to and from the Mixing desk during choruses (or was it vice-versa?), so he could adjust the sound settings, was spectacular.

     Our first AFC Virgins of the night were Ben Donnelly and James Ross. Members of “Finnegan's Wake” but without their third instrumentalist, they still managed to give us a lively and vibrant display of traditional Celtic-based tunes which belied their obviously tender years. No dropping off when these boys are on. (Steve!) They are relatively local, and looking to recruit, so hopefully we'll see more of them in months to come as the network local venues. One little tip chaps: I hugely enjoyed your enthusiasm-but stick to the allocated timings. It will make you even more popular! 

Ben and James

     The thoroughly likeable Mark John put in another accomplished set. I think it might have been his debut here too, so he seemed particularly self-deprecating to start with. No need to be-for once he has that guitar in his hand, he always sings and plays well. I will forgive him nicking “Between The Wars.” We hope to entice him out to Nuneaton during the remainder of 2014 to give us a few songs. But not that one if I'm there. It's mine.

Mark will have his eye out with that guitar!

   Dragonhead were as tight and professional as ever. They swung us through Traditional and Cajun music and added some Country. I've not paid sufficient tribute to Dragonhead for trying to keep acoustic music alive in Nuneaton with their Beacon Folk Club. Hopefully we'll fill the niche left when the club folded-and succeed in bringing good Folk music back into Town. We'll have to get them in at The Crown some time to acknowledge that contribution properly.

      Comharsa were deceptive. As a band setting up, they just kept on coming onto stage, and Phil looked ever so slightly harassed temporarily as he began to run out of leads and mikes. Vocals, fiddle, banjo, whistle, percussion, accordion and guitar. (Think I've covered it all?). They literally filled the performance area. Both with bodies and sound. I loved their opener which began deceptively slowly and built up progressively into a full blooded Craic. They gave us a sequence of good honest over the water tunes including "I'll tell me Ma " "Leaving of Liverpool " and "The Irish Rover. "  I've played venues (which shall remain nameless) where big format Irish-sounding bands on the same bill as us turned up, brought their own audience, played, whipped the few indigenous punters up and then left, taking their own faction with them. Comharsa did not do that, and I respect them immensely for staying to the end and joining in with our songs as enthusiastically as we all did with theirs. Very professional, that. Cheers guys-good luck to you

Comharsa

    The indoor temperature shot up noticeably during that powerful first half  and I began thinking during the interval “Blimey-that was good-it's gonna be tough keeping this crowd going after all that!” So we came to the raffle and then it was a three piece Parrot-Dave Parr, Arnie and myself-left to wind things up. I need not have worried. We started as we always do now with “All Over Now” and this audience eclipsed the boisterous singing we heard at Bedworth last week. They insisted on singing not just the choruses, but the verses too. What a good start!

     And it continued. Despite having a fair percentage in who hadn't seen us previously, the chorus singing in “The Odeon ,“  “Down Our Street”and “Albert Balls” was spectacular. Their were audience members copying the Auntie Hazel actions too-that's a first! We added in “Need Your Love So Bad,” for a bit of balance and to quieten things down a little, before finishing with “What a Folking Liberty.” Well their faces were a picture. Even the bar staff came round. All picked up that gauntlet and ran with it. With enthusiastic calls for an encore, we felt confident enough to run our gorgeous Beyonce tribute, “If I were a Goat” by them They tackled that with great enthusiasm too. Their chorus bleating must have startled Ridge Lane sheep for miles around.

      A cracking night overall, a diverse and rich tapestry of entertainment for a big audience, very enjoyable for us and lots of positive feedback on our set afterwards. Good promo too for Nuneaton Folk Club (did I mention that?) and our Launch Night on October 1^st.

Singalonga Bedduff

     With Nuneaton Folk Club having moved seamlessly (!!) last week from the planning  stage to  reality in October 2014, Bedworth Folk Club Host Malc Gurnham was obviously determined to be on his toes on Wednesday. He was out to flex his muscles, just up the road from Nuneaton, on a Wednesday night. With a bright new Club  banner, increased promotional activity, higher profile advertising on Facebook,  slick background lighting and a bill of no less than 16   floor singers, (one of whom was Phil Benson, host of Atherstone Folk Club). The gauntlet  was well and truly laid down. The benchmark would be set high.

     Actually, there is nothing other than very friendly rivalry between these three members of The North Warwickshire Folk Triangle.  Malc has been a lifelong supporter of Black Parrot Seaside, and vice versa. It was Phil and Malc who finally  persuaded BPS recently to take on the new venture and who have both pledged their support.  Malc regularly  plays bass guitar(s) with The Parrot,  and Phil has acted  as Sound Engineer for us. We all get on swimmingly.

 

  And Malc Gurnham himself is the epitome of Club hosts and Show organisers. No-one could replace or eclipse him, and nobody would ever want to. Malc is an iconic role model for Folk Club and Folk Festival organisers everywhere. He works tirelessly to promote the Folk and Acoustic genre. He encourages newcomers and young talent, but also cajoles people out of retirement to come and play for him. Either playing and singing solo or singing alongside Gill Gilsenan, he puts on a very enjoyable musical package in his own right. He creates a friendly welcoming atmosphere at all of the Bedworth venues he uses. No wonder people were queuing up to help him raise funds for the Bedworth Festival 2014. Probably the country's biggest Indoor Winter Festival, it starts this year on the weekend beginning Friday 28th November and continues merrily all the way   through to the Sunday.

 

     What a feast the audience were treated to!  Joe Roberts, Phil Benson, David Parr (another Parrot!), Sue Sanders, Thrupp'ny Bits, Dave Fry, Martin Banks, John Kearney, John and Elaine Meechan, Maria Barham, Katherine Fear and Jon Harrington, Kim Lowings (and (she claims)-her dad -he looked far too young!):   Jan and Terry Wisdom and Black Parrot Seaside. All topped and tailed by Malc and Gill. We even Skyped Claire Latham into the room,  courtesy of Phil. So many songs, of every time and genre and such magnificent audience singing that there is no space or time to describe them all. But honourable mentions must go to:

•  John Kearney leading the company in a version of Petula Clark's "Downtown"-it was like something out of the Muppet Show:
•  a stunning Bedduff debut for the excellent Kim Lowings:
• More inspirational group singing during Maria's "Californian Dreaming":
• the Thruppny's adorable Labrador, Spangle, making a break for it-cunningly scooting her lead reel along the floor with her, as Des relaxed:
• Malc doing a "Bosworth" with feedback on Maria, inadvertently nudging the volume up beyond 11:
• the incomparable Terry and Jan Wisdom showing us all how to do it. Again!



      Coventry City were being despatched by Cardiff City on Sky in two other rooms, the Bitter ran out and so did the seats. But it was a great night. I even won a bottle of Rose in the raffle.

 

 

The Parrot is out of the Bag

NUNEATON FOLK CLUB

THE CROWN INN, BOND STREET, NUNEATON, WARWICKSHIRE CV11 4BX

FIRST WEDNESDAY OF EVERY MONTH.

Nuneaton was until recently the largest town in the Midlands (pop. 81,900) without a regular established Folk Club. This new venture brings Folk,Blues and Acoustic music back into the Town Centre each month. The Crown is a CAMRA-affiliated pub, adjacent to Nuneaton Railway Station. Nuneaton Bus Station is opposite and with its central position, taxis are plentiful and cheap. Evening parking is available (£1, 6am-8am) nearby.

Offering free WiFi and a discount to any CAMRA members, The Crown boasts TEN Hand pumps, dispensing seven real ales and three draught ciders. Guest Ales are changed weekly.

Nuneaton Folk Club meets at The Crown each month, in a large upstairs Concert Room. Featured guests usually take the main spot. Floor spots can be booked by prior appointment, on a first come, first served basis. The new club is a joint venture between popular Warwickshire Folk Band Black Parrot Seaside (who host and compère the venue) and The Crown's landlord Julian Harkins. After running another celebrated music venue, “The Nags Head”, Julian has since built at The Crown, a nationally recognised reputation for Live Music of all kinds. In the past this has included occasional Folk concerts- (Shkayla, Quill and Tir Na Nog have all played there). Now it's time to bring Folk home for good.

 

                                                 Folk Club website:    http://blackparrotseaside.weebly.com/

BLACK PARROT SEASIDE INFO AT:

www.blackparrotseaside.co.uk

email:squawk@blackparrotseaside.co.uk.

BLOG at http://blackparrotseaside.blogspot.co.uk/

Five Go Off Camping Again

    

 Our last appearance at Banbury Folk Club had been earlier this year. Then, I'd been delegated to drive across the border from Warwickshire into Oxfordshire. But a late foot injury meant I couldn't. So I was on crutches as I entered the Banbury Cross in March 2014, having been chauffeured there by Mick. I milked the sympathy for all it was worth that night, and it was worth it, because they asked us back. But this time, Mick had  made it clear to me that it was my turn to drive, unless I wanted to return there by Messerschmitt.

     Last night we helped these same Banbury Folk raise funds for their Festival in October. One of several Midlands Folk Festivals which I AM invited to. (Arff!) We thought it wise to bring reinforcements last night, so we came mob-handed. The full Five piece Big Band. And I do mean BIG. Myself, Dave Parr, Malc Gurnham, Mick Harris and Arnold. That's a combined weight of several tons, a combined age of 420 years, a lot of stringed instruments and an awful lot of Hook Norton.

      It was a lovely, balmy evening as, guided by MalcNav, I piloted the newly-repaired Focus across the Dassetts. Given the current madness of the A46 and A45 roadworks, I'd printed out an alternative, using The Fosse Way and the A423. MalcNav selected the scenic route for the final leg of the journey however, and so we passed through picture-postcard villages and several farmyards before arriving at the impressive Drayton Leisure Camping Complex near Banbury. (How they get that Air Show on at Farnborough, I'll never know. Where's the runway?).

     At the request of Derek and Mary we'd arrived early for what turned out to be a very efficient and conscientiously adjusted sound check by the excellent Richard Watkins. All digitalised and wireless. Excellent for a vocalist like me, as he committed the whole data to his IPad's memory. No cheating by over-exuberant guitarists, whanging up the volume to 11 during the set!
    Beforehand we had  a delicious barbecue. And some games like Bat the Rat,Tombola, and Dodge the Golf Ball. We'd shared cars to minimise discomfort, but I'm afraid that all this meant that some of our party were on the Hook Norton just after 6pm. As we had four hours to fill before taking to the stage, this could have been disastrous.

    For a while it looked as if it could become an extension of the monthly meetings of the Nuneaton & District Elderly Gentlemans' Binge Drinking Society (Folk Section). We quickly cleared the premises of Old Hooky, and then began making inroads into the other excellent output of this fine old Independent Brewery. Indeed, Arnold was so taken by the beer  that at one stage, he also helped himself to a stranger's pint and added it to a growing table full of bottles and pint pots. (Some of us obviously, were on soft drinks).

      Once the concert got under way we were treated to the lovely singing voice of Linda Watkins. She told us she had chosen to do a challenging set, but it all seemed effortless to me. Using a combination of instruments,including guitar, dulcimer and mandolin, she ran through a delightful selection of songs. Impressive.

      Toots and RagnRoll Fraser followed. Eclectic is the word. Toots played the accordion and sang harmoniously, whilst Ragn combined some excellent guitar work with songs of great diversity. We had a Bodhran-accompanied song about King Lud. We had some Fats Waller. And we had a Charleston. All delivered with good humour, some rehearsed and some (the loss of the set list, the beer glass going base over apex) not so. Toots did something strange to her accordion at one stage, which made it sound like a vibraphone. We looked expectantly across at Mick. "Can You do that?" we asked. No he couldn't, apparently.  

      Then we had an interval, followed by the Raffle draw and Announcements. These duties shared by Derek and Mary. Mary was looking very mobile following her recent structural alterations, and was skipping around like a spring lamb. Each time they mentioned future guests, the audience “oo'ed and aahhed” expressively, and with great fondness. I found myself wondering, wistfully, did they make expectant noises like that when our names were announced? Or just suck in breath through hollowed cheekbones?
       I need not have worried. They remembered us. It was clear from the first strains of “All Over Now” that they were going to be another singing audience, as they had been previously, in March. We built up the set, as we had at previous performances recently, by mixing Blues, Trad and comedy together.

    Thus, on the Eve of my 43rd Wedding Anniversary, what was for me an especially poignant “Need Your Love So Bad” was followed by “ If I were a Goat.” Now, it's probably fair to say that The Fred Dibnah Brigade at Market Bosworth, had struggled a little with this concept at Bosworth, last Sunday. Partly because Beyonce probably hadn't penetrated to deepest rural Leicestershire yet, and partly because a goat in them there parts was a form of transport or a meal, rather than an object with which to empathise. (Judging by the length of some of the beards, possibly also a family connection.?)

      But Banbury embraced the full Goat ethic enthusiastically. I'd spotted a lady sitting near the front who was obviously picking up the nuances of BPS humour during “The Odeon,” and who I also caught grinning through “ Down Our Street.” I locked eyes on her during “Goat,” “Folking Liberty” and our encore, “Albert Balls,” using her as a laughs barometer. Very effective. Our allotted time fairly bustled away. The only casualty was “Vigilante Man,” which I'd shuttled down a revised running order, anticipating we might lose it, anyway.

      The band really enjoyed playing it and the audience appeared to, also. The proprietor of the Drayton Complex came over afterwards to thanks me, so I guess the Management did, too. He seemed very happy. (They must have shifted a hell of a lot of Hooky, so he should be). I can't speak for the cat, wandering amongst us as we packed the gear away. But it too seemed relaxed.

    The rest of us straggled outside and carried the gear out to the cars, whilst indoors, Malc continued to make his tearful farewells and do a spot lot of networking. Finally, as the dawn coloured the sky far away to the East, he emerged from the bar, carrying his trusty bass. Huh! That Malc Gurnham!  He gets everywhere. Everyone knows him, and vice versa. He is even more ubiquitous on the Folk Scene than The Ubiquitous Ian Bland. If that is possible. ( I'm not convinced). They call Ian The Boomerang. He always comes back.

     Once Dave and I had settled MalcNav back onto the dash, it was time for the return journey to North Warwickshire. Like many late evening journeys North from the Banbury area, it was not without incident. The M40, as it almost always is at this time of the morning, was closed. However, MalcNav guided us through the lanes and across the byways, where a highlight for me was the deer grazing contentedly on the grass verge somewhere near Bascote. It seemed that Arnold (who was operating on MickNav) had something simmering on the Aga back home, for he went off like a bat out of hell along this section and all that we saw of him most of the time was his tail lights in the distance.

      On the outskirts of Long Itchington however, he inexplicably took a left, as we headed right towards the Duckpond, the A423 and our route homewards. (Perhaps there was an all night restaurant open in Leamington?). Our journey back was uneventful apart from seeing a gentleman appearing to be attempting some sort of meaningful relationship with a Green Wheelie Bin in Bulkington. We agreed that this would make a good theme for a new song.

    Nuneaton was in complete darkness, the City Fathers having decreed that all street lighting is Verboten after midnight. And boy, “all “meant all. What a relief it was to get back home finally to Wolvey. Lit up like a Christmas Tree, bless it, and still blazing defiant Light pollution skywards.

Piston Broke

Well chuffed to be invited back once again this weekend to The Battlefield Line for CAMRA's RailAle Fest at Market Bosworth Railway Station. Pretty well the centre of The Universe today, with a Traction Engine Rally and a Farmer's Market also on in this pretty little town. http://www.battlefield-line-railway.co.uk/

    On a quintessentially English Summer's day, what better place to be than “Bozzie”? In beautiful surroundings, on the outskirts of the town, threading your way between the Fairground Organs and Morris Dancers? Easing by the Fodens and the Fergies and  heading towards a big old LMS Goods Shed full of Real Ale, food and Fine Music My own CAMRA branch, Hinckley and Bosworth, were putting this Festival on, in conjunction with The Battlefield Line. (So called because the railway  meanders through countryside where Richard III fought the Lancastrians and fell, mortally wounded). 

     Thanks to Soundman Phil Benson's enthusiasm and commitment, he'd got there proper early to set up and drive his excellent P.A. on loan from Atherstone Folk Club.

Seriously, have you ever seen a Sound Engineer looking so relaxed? He's actually smiling! Or was this just after the moment during our set when he had leaned accidentally against a volume slider and made us all jump with White Noise/Feedback? 

    There was a bit of a scare when we arrived, as Phil told us glumly that the beer had all run out. There had certainly been a big hit on it last night but several of us were delighted to see that HBC had gamely driven over to Church End to rustle up an extra barrel of Goats Milk. Actually, there was loads of different beer left. Just a bit less choice, but it didn't seem to be deterring anyone much!

    Aided by Mark John and John and Sylvia Meechan, we'd planned to keep the festival goers entertained whilst they drank, ate, and rushed out occasionally to watch a “big 'un” thunder over the level crossing. And they don't come much bigger than this!

    The Goods Shed is an interesting venue to play. It is under cover but not enclosed, and so, beyond the big wide open doors you can see trains entering and leaving the station. Whilst performing, although on an elevated stage, you sometimes have to adjust the number you are doing, as engine drivers are required to signal the crossing as they leave the station. As they rumble past the back wall, the stage gently vibrates.

     Outside there are exhibitions of vintage vehicles , veteran bicycles, and country crafts. Inside,the audiences are made up of families, “Tickers” come to sample the beers, Railway enthusiasts (not an anorak in sight), truck drivers and real larger-than-life Fred Dibnah figures. And people come to eat the Ploughmans' Lunches or less healthy fast food alternatives.

    Mark John opened, right on time, thanks to Phil's efficient sound checks. He bounced into Folsom Prison, and covered everything from Simon and Garfunkel to Mumford and Sons.

Mark John

 Mark' s set  was well received, and  it probably earned him a slot at Atherstone next month.

     John Meechan and his wife Elaine followed. Singing songs about the Collieries we have lost, and Industrial Heritage. Very apt, in this setting, with the evocative smell of steam coal drifting in occasionally. This talented duo played Concertina, accordion and Guitar.

John and Elaine giving it some welly

  We followed with the first of two sets. We were in the four-man format of Mick (mandolin and mandola), Arnold,(steel guitar+12 and 6 string): Dave Parr (guitar) and myself. The first half fairly romped by, with "All Over Now" and "The Odeon" probably highlights. "If I were a Goat" our infamous Beyoncé cover was possibly a little too leftfield for an audience which included men in overalls and Greasetop hats, and several dogs. During "Lakes of Ponchartrain" I became aware of a lot of agitated tinkling and jingling coming from a table down on the floor to my left. What followed was a personal first for me. One of the Morris Dancers shook my arm, during verses four and five,whilst I was in mid-warble,  and said loudly, " Can you announce that The Morris Dancing is about to start outside please."

     It seemed after all my singing efforts, he had still mistaken me for just the M.C. Resisting the urge to plunge from the stage and rush out to see The Anker Morris (back-up section),I finished the song, completed one more and then announced a break. This seemed very kind, at the time. I assumed this would give them time to beat each other over the head with sticks before coming back inside to see us. Actually, I did go out and watch them. They were very good. And very hot.

     Our second half resumed with the Morris routine only half completed. We gave our audience more songs as they ploughed on through the Leatherbritches, the Elliswood and the Church End beers. Our usual mix of Blues, Folk and our own tunes. We called up Mark John for his inauguration into ParrotHood for our Finale-"Folking Liberty." Unable to gain the stage, due to it being so crammed with bodies, he played in troubadour style, from the floor, with a long lead.    

    "Folking " with its convoluted choruses, you have to sing oh so carefully, so as to avoid saying many rude words. It went well until another ruddy train pulled in. This time, as it left, there was a deafening cacophony of whistles and hoots as they thundered by outside a few metres behind us. From this I deduced that our ex-Fiddle player, Eddie Jones was on the footplate. What a card! Like something out of frigging Chuggington it was. It obliterated the final verse so...we did it again.

    Leaving the site afterwards was a bit like lunchtime at The Arc De Triomphe roundabout, if you know it. Somehow the Morris Men decided that this would now be a good place to complete their routine, and so they danced, literally, across the exit road. Hilarious. Exiting Motorhomes, Low loaders, Caravans, Steamrollers, Artics and all sorts of vehicles just well, basically got in each others' way, then rolled to a halt. A bit like a Le Mans start, but with hundreds of tons of iron involved. A grand day out. Hopefully we'll be back again next year.