Monday, March 31, 2014

Being Friday the 28th 0f March, 2014 ...

Berry, in the hot seat, successfully generated combobulation by randomly dotting around the room ...

He sang about kisses on his bottom …

Mave sang about spooning on top of this public conveyance …

Side-by-side with Angela and Paul, we inaugurated an new Olympic sport ... synchronised whistling!
(We'll need to work on that synchronicity!)

Connor remembered Harry Farr, shot at dawn for cowardice during WW1, and pardoned in 2006 …

A Nation’s guilty secret is a generation’s debt.

Ken wanted to see bright lights and dancing ...

The bus for Thursdays Night Club leaves the Cathedral at 23.15 hours.
Mave wouldn’t let him go!

Marion took a shine to the bloke who spun her around on this fairground contraption …

More, more!
Faster, faster!

  • Sue sucked …

... under the blossom that hangs from the bough.

  • Lorna blew ...

  • Mick and Marion imbibed ...

Patrick wondered why the toilet seat in a nunnery was often discovered in this position ...

... and why does that Sister have to shave
twice daily?

Mave found something under her bed …

... it couldn’t do any harm!

Regrettably, Nigel, being overcome with lethargy, couldn’t make it.
We talked about the merits of singing, caffeine and illicit substances as possible remedies for neurasthenia.
Nigel had chosen bed!
However, near-miraculously, Nigel's spare guitar managed to come along ...

Many thanks for the loan, Nigel, but a handsome
instrument doesn't make an accomplished guitarist!

For some obscure reason, Berry and Paul perambulated ...

Ken appeared intimidated.

In closing, Berry invited us all meet again in the Promised Land ...

... but we packed up and went home instead.

Monday, March 24, 2014

Being Friday the 21st of March, 2014 ...

Also coinciding with  the vernal equinox ...

Here is the news …

An asteroid around two-thirds of a mile wide (1.2km) could hit the earth on March 21, 2014 and has been classified as "an event meriting careful monitoring" by astronomers.

This long foretold cataclysm did not happen.
We were spared ...
We remained calm ...

No tears were shed.

Paul, perhaps unaware of approaching Armageddon, sensitively encouraged us to get on with business-as-usual at The City Folk Club.

Was it that an impending global catastrophe prompted Elayne to demonstrate her rock-chick credentials?
Clearly, there is more to one musically-accomplished astro-physicist, Meatloaf and Elayne than meets the eye or ear ...

We shed icicles instead of tears.

Suddenly, folk music and song acquired, embraced and welcomed a whole new perspective.

We might have a shot at 'Bohemian Rhapsody' another time?

12 charitable requests were fulfilled.
(Only 74 still to go.)

Roger rolled-on dreaming of a lover who died with a gold chain round her neck.
The other reported deaths were too many to count ...

It was better to die 'neath an Irish sky ...

Lynda sang about an airborne creature over a cradle.

A bomber above her ...

Nigel couldn’t help falling in love with Brenda ...

A sentiment we widely share.

Berry, (out of jealousy?) implored us to love him.
(It’s OK, Berry, you have always been in our hearts!)

At some point Angela observed that one participant appeared to be falling asleep.
“No, no ... worry not.” said Dogsbody,
“Nigel is simply imbibing wonderful music through the pores of his very soul!”

Meanwhile, Mike had been imbibing a traditional Irish beverage before he performed something about a fearsome weather phenomenon …

(Painting , 'Sorely Tried', by John Chancellor, (1925-84.))
"Permission to shorten sail, Cap'n?" shouts an anxious First Mate.

"No ... it's only a squall
... have another one of these!"

Mike's self-penned number, 'Squall', was a first-time-out
... of supreme quality.

Mike, in a song, made only one tangential allusion to illicit earnings.
(Such can be the unsavoury nature of folk-song.)
Apart from the correct amount of cash being subscribed to the pot, (that's a first!) no money was exchanged for favours.
Modesty was undefiled.

Geoff ... good to see/hear you again!
We were invited to wonder about this enigmatic countenance ...

Painting by some Italian bloke, (1452-1519.)

After two failed attempts at finding an accessible key, we embarked homeward humming this melody …

"I've told you before, Nigel, we can't sing in the key of E!"

  • We looked to the skies ...
  • No dangerously-approaching extra-terrestrial bodies were perceived through the clouds.
  • Perhaps, if we are spared, we'll do the same again next Friday.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Being the feast-day of Saint Patrick ... well it was on Monday.

I make no apologies to any theo-christo-sceptic individuals who might be among us.
You don't need to be a person of faith to appreciate this glorious music ...

That's Rita Connolly, performing an ancient anthem otherwise known as 'St. Patrick's Breastplate'.
(Just skip the adverts if they appear on video!)

It's from the album by Shaun Davey entitled: 'The Pilgrim'.
There's some particularly good stuff on that.
Anyone interested in Irish/Celtic history, as portrayed in music, would be well advised to look at Shaun Davey's work.

The lyrics, translated for this from 'old Irish' by Kuno Meyer, are traditionally attributed to Saint Patrick, during his Irish ministry of the 5th Century.
Other authorities claim it was written later.
Shaun Davey, credited with the music, writes in the sleeve notes: "Anon. 8th Century."

"Is that folk music?" I hear people ask.
Does that matter?

A badge, (or badges,) might be awarded to any individual, (or collaboration,) who undertakes to perform this triumphant piece at the club.

Then we'll all be saved!

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Being Friday the 14th of March, 2014 ...

Someone should have advised Mike H. not to put his instrument in the dishwasher ...

"Actually, it's a guitulele," said Mike.

It was a balmy evening in comparison with the recent weather.
High pressure prevailed.

I mean, of course, that Angela was in charge!

Angela began by entertaining us with an anecdote about a little boy in a shed.
Many understood not.

"Is this a folk club?" someone asked.

There followed an amusing explanation, accompanied by much frivolous banter.

"Stop that, now, boys!" cried our MC.

Then we got on with the folk-musical business of the day ..
  • Loss of life was minimal.
  • There were no severed limbs.
  • Female virtue was preserved.
"Is this really a folk music club?" another someone asked!

"Settle down, now!" commanded our MC.
"This is a family show!"

In anticipation of an important Saint's day, some of the musical offerings had an Irish flavour ...

Get you gone, you snakes!

Mike and Yvonne sang about this purveyor of sea-food ...

Sadly, the lady on the right died of a fever.

Connor took us to Ireland's Atlantic shore ...

This is Achill Head, the most westerly point of co.Mayo.
Look carefully at the horizon ... you might observe the Statue of Liberty
... when the mist clears!
Saw summer sunsets ... asked for more.

By contrast, Mick delightfully and instrumentally transported us to Cornwall ...

'Carrick Roads' is a new composition from Mick. Well done, Mick. It was charming.

Molly took us on a train journey from track 29 of Pennsylvania Station to a city in Tennessee ...

Melissa engaged us with a very creditable debut-performance of a song about precious-metal somnolence ...

... smiles awake when you rise.

A badge was awarded!

Somebody remembered this Socialist grandee ...

I like a man who can smoke a pipe.

Paul experienced only a little difficulty in recalling the lyrics of a song that he and Angela are preparing for a forthcoming gig at a care-home for sufferers of Alzheimer's disease ...

"Does 6 O'clock in the morning exist?"
enquired Paul.

Did you know that slip-jigs are in 9/8 tempo?
Such is the quality of intelligence that we share at The City Folk Club.

We are assured of occupancy of the Guide Hall on Fridays throughout the rest of March and April, (including Good Friday, 18th,) so please keep coming along to share and enjoy music in our good company.

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Remembering Cicely ...

Haven't we all joined in the chorus of Home Lad Home?

That's a poem by Cicely Fox Smith, (1882-1954,) adapted and set to a tune by Sarah Morgan who sadly died last year.

Ken has kindly passed on this invitation to share in a celebration of Cicely's life and work.
Below are the flyers ...

Some of you will recognise the names of several of the musical contributors.
You can find more about Miss Smith and the event at

You can find the original poem entitled, 'Homeward', with an informative commentary by clicking here.

Monday, March 3, 2014

Being Friday the 28th of February, 2014 ...

Well, there we were … all feeling just a little older.
Berry wondered ... 

“What am I doing here?”

Brenda lovingly reminded him that we was MC as they sat for a sound-check with ‘control’ ...

Here is the control panel.
With one of these you, too, can explore extraterrestrial realms.

As the evening proceeded Berry won the exposure-contest with a total of five performances including collaborations.

Dogsbody gave account of only five deaths, two severed limbs and narrowly avoided cannibalism ... 

Tom, the cabin-boy, (who usually said nothing,)
pleaded: "Daddy, don't let them eat me!"

Mave danced ‘bust-to-bust’ again with a stately galleon ...

Mike invited Paul to join in …

What tobacco do you use? Is it legal?

Ken remembered Madiba …

We were all unusually nice to each other … thank you!

Now, this is important.
Please don't forget ...
We won't be at the Guide Hall next Friday, 7th March, because the Guides need the hall for a jamboree.

Otherwise, we will continue to meet on all the following Fridays throughout March.