Being 29th April 2011 …

Twenty-one jolly people turned off their TV sets and attended The City Folk Club.
Several accepted the challenge of wearing something in keeping with the celebratory atmosphere of the day.
Here they are …

(The fact that individuals willingly posed for these images assumes consent for publication of these photos, courtesy of Mr. Beresford Greene.)

The absence of the usual MC was much lamented, and Bill took the chair with considerable aplomb.
Here’s what we did …

Master of the Revels: Bill
Clementine (Cwm Rhondda): Colin
You Do Something to Me: Brenda & Berry
White Dress: Ken
The Last Train From Bacup: Mave
Fall in Love: Berry
Flying Cloud: Roland
Yes, Sir, That’s my Baby: Angela
Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying: Jane 1.2 & Colin 1.2
I Must Get Married Today: Jane 1.2 & Colin 1.2
Lavender’s Blue: Yvonne
Please Don’t Call Me Louise: Mike
False Bride: Lynda
The Bold Fisherman: Jane R.
Love is Come Again: Duncan
Dancing With You: Eddie
Going Nowhere: Mick
Bay of Biscay: Roger
Maggie Watson’s Polka: Bill
On One April Morning: Colin, Ken & Bill
Standing in the Church: Mave
It Had to be You: Brenda & Berry
All I Want is You: Angela & Roland
Bushes and Briars: Jane 1.2
Blame it on the Moon: Jane 1.2 & Colin 1.2
Don’t You be Foolish, Pray: Ken
I Want to Marry a Lighthouse Keeper: Yvonne
Butterflies: Mike & Yvonne
Peggy Gordon: Lynda
If No One Ever Marries Me: Jane R.
The Water is Wide: Duncan
Next Time Around: Eddie
Some observations about all things patriotic, royal and theological: Berry
(This offering was deemed to be an incontinent display of naked emotion. It was quickly interrupted by our astute MC. Poor Berry! Perhaps he can be persuaded to complete his dissertation in a blog post?)
Rambling Pitchfork: Mick
Farther Along: Roger
Come Write Me Down: Bill & Colin

The Last Train from Bacup

Before I embark on the song list for 29th April, I am inclined to say how moved I was by Mave’s song about those last trains in the Rossendale Valley.

Oh, those sounds of loose shunting, the rattle of three-link couplings, the screech of wheels as decaying wagons traversed impossible bends, the exhaust of steam from tired shunters: these are such fond memories of my childhood in Bacup.

Those were proper trains!
By night they brought raw cotton for the mills, and coal to power their machinery. They took away the finished products of a local workforce who had no hope of more gainful employment.

The sounds of those trains were a reassurance.
They were good noises in the night that echoed around the valley.
"All is well in the world!" they said.
They were pure lullabies that could be heard through every bedroom window.
Children would sleep and dream of owning a Hornby Dublo train set.

In those days we believed in Father Christmas.
All I wanted was that little pick-up goods train hauled by an ex-LMS Fowler 3F 060T, on a small-radius oval of track, but times were hard then.

Thanks for that delightful memory, Mave.

'Diddly-dum!'

Memoirs of a Folk-Song Collector

Miss Letitia Vormal de Hyde has been song-collecting, and having adventures in and around Lingham Peveril, Somersetshire. Her activities have attracted some criticism from some of the local womenfolk.

Not long after my return to my lodgings, I determined to leave Lingham Peveril and return to my home. The shouting in the street below my window, and the several stones thrown through the casement caused me to doubt that I was welcome in the village. As Old Trouser conveyed my baggages down to the waiting carriage, (I had decided that I would not endure the doubtful comforts of the dog-cart again), who should appear but young Digby Charlesworth, apparently desirous of knowledge of my intended movements. Digby insisted in accompanying me in my carriage to the railway station. During the journey, the track proving equally uneven as on my way up to the village, Digby was thrown across the carriage and thereby became sprawled across my muff. It took him several minutes to remove himself, only to be thrown into me again, he being forced to use his hands to save himself from being jettisoned to the floor. Naturally, I seized hold of him, fearing he might sustain an injury.

We arrived at the railway station all too soon, for I had scarcely time to smooth my habiliment, and Digby to adjust his hose, before the door of the carriage was thrown open. I stepped down, and turned to wave goodbye to my tired but happy travelling companion, who could raise but a finger as a parting gesture. As I boarded the train, my thoughts were full of Lingham Peveril, Digby, and the semi-destitute but lusty fellows I had encountered, until my eyes fell on a dandy of a man, all silks and lace cuffs, who was occupying my compartment. “Good day, sir”, I remarked, remembering to cast my eyes modestly downwards, (although this was of little avail, for the gentleman’s nether garments were so fine and well-tailored as to leave nothing to a young lady’s imagination). “How far are you going, sir?”, I enquired. “Madam”, he said, with what I imagined was something resembling a twinkle in his eye, “I will, God willing, go all the way”. “Why, my dear sir”, I whispered, “I am going that way myself. Do you perchance know any songs?”.

Greetings from Budapest

Now, just because Dogsbody is away tomorrow doesn't mean you can misbehave.

My mobile phone has given up the ghost, so I can't send a text message to Lynda to remind her to count people, collect money and turn the central heating back to 'auto' before vacating the hall.
Perhaps someone will be kind enough to remind her.

Jane and I marginally enjoyed an evening cruise with dinner on the Danube yesterday evening.
Believe me, our club's canal trip will be much more fun. Our own sandwiches will be better and the entire exercise will be far more economic.
Only four spaces left!

(Apologies for any spelling mistakes. This Hungarian machine fails to recognise any words I have written, and declines to close brackets!(% ... ) THERE!