Blog Sabbatical ...

Owing to Dogsbody’s domestic distraction, this blog might become dormant for the next few weeks.

Only sleeping.

Worry not; the club will continue with business as usual every Friday evening throughout June and July.

Only essential information will be published here for the time-being.
However, the informative blog will be updated as necessary.

Being Friday the 14th of June, 2013 ...

Geoff arrived very early while Dogsbody was still setting things up.
"I can't understand why you don't start at 8 o'clock," remarked Geoff.
"Because there's only you and me here," responded Dogsbody.

OK, let's not go on about prompt starts again!


A strange instrument with a tinkly-bell-sound was struck.
"Hello," said someone, "My name is Paul."
"Hello!" we all said, whereafter Paul went on to explain the proceedings of The City Folk Club.

Then we got on.

Some found it strange that Paul started off by singing a song that appeared to be bidding everyone farewell ...

Goodbye, my Love.

Nobody took any notice of this invitation to depart.
We all stayed.
This was just one of several challenges to Mr Paul's authority, all of which he handled with his customary diplomacy and sensitivity.



"Don't tell anybody I'm on this train,"  pleaded Angela.

Suzanne cleverly and spontaneously generated a tune to accompany a ballad about conflict, murder-most-foul and life-threatening grief.

Is this what you were looking for?




Les watched this big 707 take off in the rain without him.

Mike used this hexasyllabic word: 'disconvovulated'.
We don't know why he said that, nor what it means, and it's not in OED.

On the right you see Mrs Tiverton as she dances
with Joyce at a ladies-only ballroom dancing class.

England shall bide ...

While antipodeans ...

CONCLUSION

23.07 hrs. 33secs, precisely, whereupon we all went home in absolute silence ...



... underneath the stars.

QED.


ADDENDUM

Owing to some imminent domestic disruption, Dogsbody, (AKA Mr. Colin,) needs to take a short sabbatical, commencing 28^th June.

Panic not ...
(There are those who might express relief!)

Arrangements are being left with Lynda and Angela, and I am sure that all will proceed smoothly.

The club will continue to operate normally every Friday throughout June and July.

Lynda and Angela will welcome any kindly souls, (vertically-augmented ones, particularly!) who would care to volunteer to help with setting up the hall.

My phone and internet access might be compromised for a while, so I undertake to check my mobile phone for messages on a daily basis.
The number is 07798 517523.
Angela has also kindly offered to have her mobile number published as an alternative contact: 07964 317215. 
 

... all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well!

(Julian of Norwich, 1342-1416.)

Being Friday the 7th of June, 2013 ...

A good turn-out this evening.
Perhaps it was because Angela was in charge.

We were pleased to welcome Geoff, all the way from Australia via Lancing ...



The fine figure on the right is Geoff.

We learned that the mining disaster of 1947 in New York was a fabrication by conspiracy theorists.
Berry questioned the validity of everything we do.
Paul named Angela's ukulele 'Minnie'.
We proclaimed that the noun 'garden' rhymes with the verb 'parden'.
Paul whistled 'on the cusp of total disaster'.
Mike whacked a goat, and Mick scraped cat-gut.



Angela takes her chances with this beast.

 

Tony thinks someone
waits for him.

The ancient art of
goat-whackery.

Dogsbody got into trouble with the PC Police ...



'... the fox jumped in ...'

Be assured that only one dead man was discovered in that ditch where there was no water, and no foxes nor hounds, polar bears, goats nor cats were harmed in this production.

Angela finished off with a charming song about peace, so we all went home feeling very much better.

More about Buying Bricks ...

WHOOPS!
Dogsbody has created a misunderstanding.
Last week he was heard to say: “Because the Guides have so much money …”
Actually, the Guides do not have loads of cash.
What he thought he was saying, (and intended,) was: “Because the Guides are spending so much money …”

Let's be clear now …

The Guide Hall refurbishment is to be postponed until next year, primarily because their original timetable would coincide and interfere with some neighbouring work.
This delay will allow the Guides to attract more funds so they can do something more ambitious than was initially proposed.

We, of CFC, still want to support the Guides' enterprise, but there is now less urgency.

So, here’s the plan ...

We will put our brick-fund collecting pot 'on hold' for the time being.

Then, one evening, later in the year, we will hold a special event dedicated to buying bricks.
Representatives of the local Guide movement can be invited to say a few words ...
(and/or sing ‘Ging-Gang-Gooley’.)
Our usual subscription pot for that evening becomes a donation to the Guides’ Brick Fund.

Of course, you can still make personal, individual donations by following instructions adjoining this sign in the hall ...

Lynda still has some forms for you to gift-aid your donation.

More about Evershed Arts Centre ...

Some of us journeyed to Billingshurst on Saturday to witness a live performance by BeHeld.

 

BeHeld comprises our erstwhile genial host, David, (ukuleles and vocals,) Roger, (guitar, mandolin, harmonica and vocals,) Mick, (a guitar called Elsie and fiddle,) and Jane, (vocals.)

They performed a supremely polished set of original material.

 

Well done, you guys!

 

Les Elvin was pretty good, too.

 

Now, see this ...

 

You can find the original by clicking here.

OK, this scanned document isn't terribly clear, but note the entry for 6th July:

Paul and Mick will be Evershed's special guests.
Stuart has written very affirmative things about them.

Shall we all go to offer our support?

Being Friday the 31st of May, 2013 ...



Clearly, it was not that Dogsbody was MC this evening that encouraged so many enthusiastic musicians to turn out on this warm evening that might be a portent of summer.
We didn't need the central heating!

We were privileged to welcome Jo and Graham, all the way from Lancing ...



The Trotters are here!

They were particularly good.

Jan and John came for their first visit.
Rosie from Yapton came back, so we must be getting something right.
Ken and Mave have returned from yet another exotic holiday.

For once we managed to kick off with music before 8.30pm.

Dogsbody quickly realised that his instrumental skills, (if ever he possessed any!) are seriously compromised.




Awaiting surgery.

We opened with a navigational exercise …

 

 

Q. Assuming a force-3 Sou-westerly
breeze, how long will it take to arrive
in Portsmouth?
A. About 45 minutes on the 700 bus!

Berry asked, "How far is a league?"
There is no universally agreed answer, but one definition states that one league is the distance to the horizon, as viewed on a clear day, by a person of average height on board ship. This is estimated to be about 3 nautical miles, but it will be different for the vertically-challenged.

We warmed …

... but I'm warm, through and through.

 

Roger declared that Randy Crawford sounded like an oversexed biscuit!

… and so it went on …



Here: borrow my sable cape
that someone lost at The Astor.

Jan found her Demon Lover.

My needle and my thimble
to the winds I'll throw.

 

 

Jo & Graham sang about
a fast train

It didn't stop here ...

"...'tween waking and sleeping."

Adrian sang an hypnotic song about a river. He wrote that himself: rapturous applause!

Jan sang about celestial bodies ...



"Oh, you don't know it!" she observed.

Graham and Jo sent us home on the last train …




Whoopsie!