Being Friday the Eighteenth of February, 2016 ...

Being also a near-anniversary.
(Ken knows the precise date.)
Yes, the City Folk Folk, having survived such challenges as hypothermia, potential flooding, near-conflagration, interpersonal abuse, toys being thrown out of prams, long words like 'discombobulation' and several other minor tribulations ...

We're twelve years old!

... and we're still friends.

Importantly, the music has just kept on getting better and better.

Did we celebrate?

Well, not particularly.

All we needed to do was get on, under Paul's benign direction, with what we do to the best of our ability.

Paul rocked his soul in the bosom of a patriarch ...

"Do not lay a hand on the boy,” he said.
“Do not do anything to him ... "
It's this way to Birmingham.

Angela considered the meaning of life in a jar ...

We're captive in ...

Elayne educated the company regarding a rustic euphemism about the song of the nightingale ...

How was it for you, sweetheart?
Did the earth move?

Then we considered the metaphor of the cuckoo's nest.

Bob's music-stand illumination was likened to some extra-terrestrial beastie ...

Mick nobly accepted an earlier challenge ...

Here's your prize, Mick ...

Cut, paste and print
it yourself!

Roger contributed to the death-count ...

Our masts and our rigging they were all shot away ...

Elayne went into remembrance mode ...

Do the angels cry like me?

Debbie sang of the months of the year so far and ...

... one more broken heart.

Dogsbody was joined in optimism about possibilities for the morrow ...

(OK, this video is archaic, but you'll get the idea.)

There followed much clambering about on chairs in order to retrieve our lighting.

Tables were cleared and returned to the cupboard.

Lights were extinguished. toilets inspected, doors locked and heating turned off.

Everybody said thank you to everybody, friendly kisses were exchanged and we departed in peace.

Being Friday, the twelfth day of February, 2016 ...

A select company gathered ...

Yes, we adopted that cosy arrangement of tables.

What's your name? ...

Hello, my name is Roland.

Maggie came along ... but there was no cake!
No matter ...  only Roland departed in great disappointment.

We pondered ... 
Why, on Earth, did that guy who sailed stormy Atlantic waters have to be named WILLIE?
(Or should that be WILLY?)

It is widely believed that Ken and Mave are enduring dehydration in Ethiopia.
We send sincere wishes in hopes for their survival.

Being Friday the 5th of February, 2016 ...

We are reminded once more ...

Is that clear, now?

We were forewarned of some unpredictability of the central heating.
All was well, however, and only two usual suspects departed at half time.
No, not because they were cold.
Maybe they had better offers?
That still left a goodly number to afford the rent.

Paul, who enjoys a wonderful life, embarked ...

Here I go, out to sea again ...
(The Embarkation of the Queen of Sheba
Claude Lorraine)

Lynda anticipated Armageddon ...

Why does my heart go on beating?

Roger chose not to worry ...

There should be sunshine after rain.

We are always truly blessed when Stuart joins us because ...

He's gonna build a chapel!

Ken sang of the recent inundation of a Westmorland town ...

Speaking of Ken ... 
Must we?
Would you recognise this follicularly-challenged, near-clean-shaven individual now?

Ken went on to offer a near-melodic obscurity about an oriental cooking-vessel that he'd misplaced in N'Orleans ...

 

You left your wok behind!
You might be forgiven for thinking these people are related.

Dogsbody stumbled over a few verses in remembrance of a sadly missed celebrity ...

Here a sheer hulk lies ...

Lynda cheered up after the interval.
Here she is with Paul singing of her delight in the pastime of breathing air ...

Mave sang of a rustic occupation ...

Ten shillings a rood is the rate,

Stuart blessed us all again and sent us home in celestial peace ...

... may moonbeams guide your feet.

Yes ...
and we turned off the central heating!

An Instrumentalist's Challenge ...

There am I on a Sunday afternoon idly exploring radio channels.
I accidentally discover a Radio 3 programme about folk music.

I become engaged by a melody.
"That was Packington's Pound," declares the announcer.

I explore the wonderful web-thing.

Here is that same tune performed by Julian Bream ...

Here's some sheet music ...

http://www.scoreexchange.com/scores/90493.html

So .. who is up for a challenge?

I offer a prize of one groat to anyone who recognisably performs this piece at The City Folk Club ...

(I feel a new badge coming on!)

Now, what did I do with that bowed psaltery?!