Being one day after the 18th of June, 200 years on ...

We lamented ...

No, Mr Carthy, MBE, wasn't there, but Roger done it good.

On a happier note, Angela encouraged us to join in a song to wish a certain senior participant further years of mortal toil ...

How old are you now?
we sang.

Berry couldn't remember his age, but he gave us this clue:

"I must have been born soon after the Dambuster's raid on Germany."

So work that out.

... and there was cake!

Berry claims to have made it himself.

Dogsbody, who achieved only a D for O-Level French, was confused by Phil's reference to sans pantalon.

Now, should that be 'pantalon' or 'pantalons'?

Why do pants always come in pairs?
Why is 'brassiere' a singular noun?

Mike P. had a theory about bridges ...

Bridges are meant for burning!

Continuing the war-like theme, Tony sang of mutilation ...

 "By God, sir, I've lost my leg!", exclaims Lord Uxbridge.
Wellington replies, "By God, sir, so you have!"

We went northwards with Paul ...

... remember a holiday ...

Welcome back, Elayne. We've missed you ...

Elayne's offering was unkindly described as soppy, sentimental ...

 and utterly charming!
Dogsbody apologised later ... see earlier post for explanation.

Mave's boyfriend had difficulty with a motor vehicle ...

So Mave boarded the last train from
a Lancashire mill town.

Then, in Debbie's company, we reverted to Napoleonic times ...

... and we went home very peacefully.

Folk at the Chapel, 06/06 ...

Some of you have kindly asked, "How did it go?"

Well, here we are ...

"This evening's lesson is written in The Penguin Book of English Folk Songs!"

How did it go?

... Who am I to judge?

Our very serious countenances in this photo are simply indicative of intense concentration.
Actually, we were truly enjoying ourselves!
(The photographer apologises for not including Lucy in the above image. Where was she?)

Many thanks to Angela, Paul, Roger, Mick and Lucy for your cooperation, encouragement, advice and support.
I really appreciate the time and effort you all put in for this venture.
It was a genuine privilege for me to be counted among such accomplished musicians.

Thanks also to Stuart and Jan for inviting us, and to all who came along.
... and to the photographer!

Being Friday the Twelfth of June, 2015 ...

Paul, (in the chair of facilitation,) in company with Angela, took us to a magnificent topographical feature of North America ...

Brian wore a different hat this evening ...

Could you fancy ...
sang he.
Sorry, Brian: no takers!

Several offerings referred to atmospheric precipitation ...

Believe me, it certainly rained that evening.

Ken anticipated some local celebration ...

Sussex Day, 16th June.

Ken's song, (credited to Valmai Goodyear,) recounts an interesting legend about the regrettable loss of one particular church bell in Bosham.
Said tenor-bell is reputed to lie in the depths of this harbour ...

For reliable disinformation, click this link.

John, (welcome again!) both generously and appropriately, agreed to pose in a yet another hat that we had discovered on the widow-sill ...

There's a million ways ...

We visited a Snowdonian mountain ...

Cadair Idris

Hearts were broken by abandonment and lost love ...

... and her father didn't like me, anyway!
sang Paul.

Now ... what else happened?

• A fair maid avoided getting a wet bum by declining to sit on the dewy grass, so green.
• We attended a gathering in a North Yorkshire coastal resort ...

Remember me ...
(Yes, I was sick!)

• The marriage between a knight and a shepherd's daughter was a reluctant union on his part ...

... but money was involved!

• Any deaths were purely anticipatory of glorious resurrection of body and soul.

So then we all went quietly home in the rain, in hopes for a new sunrise ...

Now, if you thought that was bad ... fear not ... Berry will be here next time!

We hope you will be.

Being Friday the 5th day of June, 2015 ...

Being also the sixth anniversary of our weekly tenancy of the Guide Hall ... Thank you, Ken, for that historical intelligence.

Dogsbody occupied the throne of humility.

Somebody asked, "Why don't we see images of Colin on this blog?"
Well, he is an 'umble being, not readily given to self -aggrandisement.
Here is an image of a glorious field of lavender; you might discern an embarrassed figure ...

... sowing the seeds of love!

Combine the following two images, and you will discover what Ken performed ...

... 't were the best that money could buy.

+

My name is Wallace.

Enlightenment* will be provided at the end of this post.

We observed that Pam moved her lips as Les sang of carbohydrates and protein ...

Now, who drinks RED wine with fish?

Mike P. took the opportunity for a commercial interlude.
He has for sale an electric guitar; "A Yamaha Pacifica," he said.
It might look a little like this ...

Mike didn't say what colour.
Nor did he specify a price.

Should you be interested, kindly email cityfolkclub@gmail.com and I will pass your message on to Mike.
By the way, Mike also has a boat for sale.

A rumour was generated that Berry transports a diminutive metamorphosis  of Brenda and her keyboard in this compact box ...

"No!" declared Berry.

"It is all my own, personal suffering."

Was there sympathy?

Yes, for Brenda!

Lynda sang of these birds ...

That led us into discussion of the Irish significance of 'Wild Geese'.

This metaphor historically refers to 30,000 Irish soldiers who left Ireland for France in 1691 after the treaty of Limerick.

Susequently, England tore up said treaty.

The Irish exiles were dispossessed of their land. 

Irish Catholics were stripped of citizenship.

Oh, history is such a dreadful thing!

It's not fiction, as we might sometimes speculate ... it's real people doing really bad things to real people!

Further unreliable clarification may be found here.

All that had nothing to do with Lynda's very charming song!

Phil could have sent us off to observe the night sky...

... how you suffered for your sanity ...

Ken, however, insisted on singing about a distilled Russian spirit, large pectoral appendages, bondage and death ...

Oooh, Natasha!

*So, what is the pointless answer?

Of course:  No wrecks, and nobody drownded 

... 'n fact nothing to laugh at, at all!

It is indeed true that Stanley Holloway died in 1982 in a nursing home in Littlehampton.

He lies buried at St. Mary's Church in East Preston ...

ADDENDUM ...

Further to Mike's commercial interlude, he has submitted the following images of a package for sale:

YAMAHA PACIFICA

Light natural wood with a black scratchguard, code PAC112MX

Roland Micro-cube amp (great bit of kit)

Zoom programmable effects pedal

£150 the lot = bargain (c£350 new!) All as new!