Another full house rehearsal

Well, everyone was in Shed 3b for another splendid and action-packed rehearsal.

The now-compulsory health checklist included Ian straining his throat trying to sound like Jimmy Somerville, Tod thrilling us with tales of his Hiatus Hernia, and Charlie trying to explain what it feels like when a ladybird takes shelter in your inhaler, and ends up three parts of the way down into your lungs. (It's not nice, and the resultant reflex upthrowing/coughing was fairly painful).

Dave and John seemed healthy enough.

News filtered out during the evening that Ian used to have a 28" waist and a nice sparkly ear-ring. That might explain the Jimmy Somerville impersonation, then. Tod claims to have photographic evidence. It was suggested that hair might have featured, too, but that was dismissed roundly. Despite all these slurs, Ian very kindly brought the remains of his birthday cake. Despite this heart-warming gesture, we all gave him a hail of abuse for having just bought a Mercedes.

There was a bit of proper rehearsal, too, as we polished and honed a few songs until they shone.

I have an odd memory of a discussion about the incredible talent and charisma of Boy George and Culture Club, but I think I'd had too much cake and the blood had drained from my head, and must have imagined it.

The end of the Fingers Crossed Tour

A few pictures from our last gig of 2016, at our home pub, the Thomas Lord in West Meon. I knew we were loud, but apparently the pub had to close for refurbishment just afterwards!

 
 
 




















Charlie showing what he thinks of 'selfies'.

John and Charlie showing what they though of Ian's cry of "smile".

Tod's broad beaming smile shows what he thinks of being alcohol-free for Christmas.

Rehearsals start again

Finally, after a long break of about two months, we had a rehearsal. Just for a change, we avoided discussing the assorted illnesses that come with being in a band of old men, and enjoyed a half-hour list of car breakdowns. There were failing brakes and stubborn immobilisers, cracked engine blocks and Freelanders than had been reversed into effing great tractors.

Mind you, we did touch on one or two health issues. John kindly offered his liver to Tod, who told him to piss off. Ian's claim to be as hairy as Don Henley in the 70's was treated with some derision, and Charlie's flatulence was as bad as ever.

The music was good, though. Apart from Slade. Now that Bob Dylan has been forgiven for inflicting his terrible aural torture on us (thanks to his refusal to accept the Nobel Prize for Literature, finally acknowledging what we all knew), Slade have moved to the bottom of the pile.

A couple of dates have already surfaced for this year's tour, to be know as 'The 'Tour Ten' Tour'. Cos it's out tenth.

The evening ended with a Wombles-based singalong - who'd have thought that we all knew the words to Minuetto Allegretto?

There were plans to add this seventies classic to our repertoire, as well. Although, if we do the long version, we'll need a small orchestra. Internet research later revealed a spooky coincidence: both of these were produced by Mike Batt, of Perin's School, Alresford fame.

And, talking of spooky, as we left, Dave's truck gave up the ghost, and had to left in the mud. Oh, and we tried Tiger Feet briefly.