Saturday, March 19, 2016

Being Friday the Eighteenth Day of March, 2016 ...

Yes, we had in mind the season of Saint Patrick, and there was a distinct Irish flavour to the evening.


This image is free for use.
Dogsbody took the photograph.

We missed you, Conor.

Paul, in the chair, opened with a traditional (!) song because, yes, it is The Week Before Easter.
(Such date being subject to clarification by the ecclesiastic authorities who determine these things.)
Meanwhile, Dogsbody fumbled with his buttons ...

No change there, then!

Sylvia, declining to take life easy, stumbled on little snow-white feet ...

Andrew sang about a train in anticipation of illumination...

We hope that light is not a train coming the other way.

Angela sang in hope of remembrance ...

Send my love ...

Elayne gave account of a sick, (suicidal?) bird ...

Was it something you ate?
Perhaps it was that tough little worm in your inside?

Benign banter led us to consider the meaning of the following terms:
  • Preamble
  • Verse
  • Refrain
  • Repetitive
  • Rececitive
  • Bridge
  • Reprise
  • rallentando
  • al coda

We concluded in ignorance.
It is patently clear that few of us actually know what we are doing
... and Berry, (he who is conversant about such things,) wasn't there to educate us!
Neither was Ken.
(Education invited.)

Lynda recalled the Easter Rising in Dublin in 1916 ...

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

There was a near-domestic incident ...

"This is in the key of D," says Max.
"No, it's in E," argues Sylvia.
"No, your'e wrong ... D!"
"No ... it's E!"
Max eventually concedes the point.

We ended on a mournful note ...

... in that cold, lonely churcyard where she sleeps 'neath the dew.

Emotional continence was rapidly restored, so we went home ...




FEELING HAPPY!


Sunday, March 13, 2016

Being Friday the Eleventh Day of March, 2016 ...

Angela, in the chair, opened with a cheery number ...


It will help us every day,
It will brighten all the way.

Conor reminded us of an historic famine and dreamed of the hills of Donegal ...





"Your Highness, your ways are very strange," sang John ...


But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won ...

Mick, (he of the prehensile fingers,) demonstrated some proper music ...



Then there was mystic Roger, more recently accompanied by Mick, with an embarkation into metaphysical realms ...



Max has invested in a new, very shiny mandolin ...

Unfortunately, it didn't
help him to remember any
lyrics!

Lovely Molly brought her mobile phone ...


Molly didn't need to remember lyrics so we all joined in as her electronic communicator paid tribute to the recently-departed Sir George Martin (RIP) ...



Lynda took us delightfully into Thomas Hardy territory ...



There was an anticipated wedding, followed by a tragic drowning.

THEN WE WENT HOME!

Monday, March 7, 2016

Being Friday the fourth day of March, 2016 ...

We began with the first of two confirmed deaths.
Indeed, t'was a murder most foul ...


... here lies the dearest friend of mine.

Paul created confusion with melodic variations on one of his well-known songs ...



Lead, kindly light ... ?

Elayne performed something lovely ...

Beautiful like a rainbow ...

Mave sang of bread and dripping ...


Please, can you direct me
to The Strand.

Mike sang about precipitation, and said something about a potential candidate for the forthcoming US presidential election ...


The executioner's face is
always well-hidden!

Simon sang of a famous landmark on the South Downs ...


Spirits abroad in a windy cloud.

The original poem by Hilaire Belloc is worth a look.
Given the present state of the mill, HB's words are prophetic ... http://www.poetryatlas.com/poetry/poem/2865/ha%26%23039%3Bnacker-mill.html

Debbie took her mother to a Russian tavern ...


To sing and dance for ever and a day.

Angela and Paul brought tears to our eyes in anticipation of the death of a loved one ...


Please, Mr Conductor,
don't put me off this train.

We remain uncertain exactly what Ken received from Agnes ...




Simon and Debbie went extraterrestrial ...




Then, in hopes for better weather, we rowed home ...



Ply, ply the oar ...

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Being Friday the 26th Day of February, 2016 ...

Berry forgot his harmonica ...





Paul was somewhat disappointed ...


You lose!

Lynda sang of the journey of life ...


... on a ship with tattered sails.

We think that Tony sang of a Breton fisherman ...


A Breton Fisherman
Rodolph Ilhee (1883-1968)

"I find this song very meaningful," announced Roger, "... especially the bits I don't understand!"



"Oh, alright," said Ken ...

... I'll 'ave a cup o' tea!

Mave gave account of a promenade for which she dressed thus ...

Do you think that my dress is a little bit ...
The little bit the boys admire.

We know that Berry likes to present the City Folk Club as a cookery class ...