Happy Track Days...

People are often asking "What's it like to be presented with a mile-long straight and an Aston Martin to drive on it?" Impossible to describe, but this is what it looked like:

Golden 'Arvest

Or not, as the case may be.

Potential bookings

I have reluctantly turned down two enquiries since our triumph at the Kilmeston Mega-Ditch Arena.

The first was for a Christening in the middle of August - too much farming going on, I thought.

The second was for a local church afternoon barbeque. Sounds lovely, but they were looking for a jazz band. Mind you, it would be fun to sit down and do three hours of free jazz. Hmmmmm. Nice.

Like this (copy'n'paste):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ml_BetwQ84I&feature=related

Dig that cat on the violin.

Like, groooovy

Bad acid trip at Rose Bowl....Jesse asking Charlie why he has only one finger on his left hand and about seven on his right...explains the quality of his solos, though.

Saturday's Gig

So, finally, after almost exactly two glorious years of touring, during which the Thomas Lord Old Gits have travelled, ooh, it must be tens of miles, and visited venues as far away as Chichester, King's Worthy and, er, Bramdean, we rounded off our hectic schedule of dates almost as close to Shed 3b as we have ever played: Kilmeston.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit concerned when I first saw our performance area. A less-than-robust and somewhat undercapacious gazebo was placed with its back to the busy Cheriton-Corhampton highway. It would have been just our luck to have coincided with the Annual Slow Ride of the Hampshire Harley Davidson Owners Club. In front of the stage was an ominous ditch, and the floor was littered with wobbly table tops. Early reports had also suggested less-than-voluminous ticket sales....

Still, being the professionals that we are, we got on with setting up - having first got rid of the table tops. Well, most of us got on with setting up - two-thirds of the guitar section leant on the trailer and discussed girls with big boobs.

But by eight o'clock, the seating area outside the village hall was packed, the hog roast was dripping, the sun came out, the wind dropped, and we set off with setlist no. 23a/vii/12[as amended 17/7/10].



Hurrah for the good folk of Kilmeston! They turned out in huge numbers, they sang, they danced, they clapped - most stayed until the very end and demanded more! Special mention to Davina Warr's blonde companion who went arse-over-tit into the ditch, surfacing triumphantly - cigarette and drink intact. Special mention to Tod, who was fully psyched up and on the point of launching into another banging tune, when an elegantly mustachioed gentleman appeared stage left, tapped him on the shoulder, and asked if he wanted to buy raffle tickets.

Another frequent stage invader kept arriving mid-song to hand out morsels of advise in a somewhat slurred style. Being the good-natured folk that we are, we nodded kindly at him. It was only when he started toying with a very expensive guitar during the interval that words were exchanged. It was pointed out that death by anal insertion of headstock is not a nice way to go - even with the combined medical skills of Messrs. Young and Cresswell close by. He got the hint.

So now we reach a pause in our performances. Harvest looms, even for Charlie, and key band members will be vanishing in the Autumn to assorted colleges and universities.

Who knows when we eight, we jolly eight, will once again whip out our huge organs, strap on our Gordon Smiths, polish up our Peaveys and smack those skins again?

We eight; we jolly eight.

Last Night's Gig

Down to the bleak flatlands of Chichester for a gig that shall henceforth for ever be known as 'The Night of the Random Setlist.' Some say that Tod had cut up the old setlist, put all those well banging tunes into a hat and was drawing them out at random. Other say that that's rubbish, and he had simply made photocopies of a very old setlist by mistake. Of course, we sensible ones hadn't lost our copies of the last setlist, but paid for our diligence with bewilderment. It was only by good fortune that we avoided launching into two songs simultaneously. 'Born to be Caroline' would have been an interesting one. As would 'Don't look back in 69'.

Anyway, the gig went well, the barn was fantastic, the stage and the accoustics (Good work, Simon) were great, and, as befits the occasion that could well have been the last gathering of all eight of us, we all played very well.


Nom nom nom nom nom....

Monday's Rehearsal

Another informal gathering on Monday. Tessa slightly under the weather, John looking like he'd spent too long staring at a combine cutterbar (he had), and Dan somewhere in Scotland, I think, and Matt...not sure where he was.

Yet more controversy about River Deep, mainly about counting in "1,2,3,4", when as any fule kno, the first two bars of the intro are in fact in 3/4 time, although the first note of the intro is the last quaver of the first bar, the rest of that first bar being rests. Couldn't be simpler.

Charlie very upset that his brand new £120,000 combine harvester, parked outside Shed 3b, was comprehensively upstaged by the arrival in the shed of a manky old sofa.

Another highlight of the evening was the keyboard player's first go on the drums, an event described by The Guardian's music critic as "Like an elephant with epilepsy".