Newt Beer Festival, Somerset

YeeeHarr! Eight thousand sweaty, swivel-eyed drunks in a huge marquee, a proper-job stage at one end, and a dazzling array of over a hundred different beers ranging from the sublime (Coopers WPA, 3.5%) to the ridiculous (Old Freddy Walker, 7.3% - old Freddy fall over, more like) at the other.
My idea of heaven, and quite a few other peoples by the look of it. We were meant to take the stage at 6 p.m., but swapped our slot with the next band. This worked out rather well, as I then had time for more beer (Village Idiot, 4.1%)
Suitably refreshed, we played from 7 - 8 and went down a storm, if I say so myself. It's always a good sign if an audience who doesn't know your songs bellows along with the choruses! Like the idiots we are, we forgot to bring some CDs to put on the merchandising tent, but hopefully we'll sell a few after via the website (http://www.billyinthelowground.com/ since you ask!), as I reminded everyone what our name was after practically every song...
By the time we'd finished, the place was a heaving mass of horrendously inebriatoxified humanity, which it took me a good quarter of a hour to fight my way through for more beer (Son of a Bitch, 6.0%)
Ruth & Chris poured me out of the van later that evening, taking care not to disturb my nice foamy head...

(pic by Mike Lang, www.imagery.org.uk)

Mr Wolfs, Bristol

First time for us on Saturday at this venue in Bristol city centre, and hopefully we'll be back, 'cause it was great fun, and reminded us why exactly it is that we do this in the first place - a very helpful stage manager, decent P.A., free beers & food and a big, lively crowd of well-lubricated punters - what more do you need? (Chris poked at his veggie noodles suspiciously for a while, but was unable to eat them as they contained vegetables, and indeed noodles, neither of which are compatible with his entirely meat-based diet)
Bit of a problem in the soundcheck, as my bass amp decided to go on strike for the night - luckily the P.A. was big enough to handle it though. I'm now waiting to hear what the prognosis is on my poor stricken Laney...
Support was provided by Shaico, an acoustic 4 piece with a John Martyn-ish feel to them; incidentally it said in the venue's website that we look like ZZ Top, which upset Ruth a little as she shaved her beard off ages ago.
A mainly young crowd (well, everyone looks young to us now) started to filter in from 10ish onwards, and by the time we'd done a few songs the place was hot, sweaty, rammed & jumping, which is always gratifying, apart from getting a microphone in the teeth at one point. When we'd finished a DJ took over, and the merrily bouncing crowd promptly spilled onto the stage, necessitating a speedy pack-up & withdrawal on hands and knees - quite tricky in the dark with people treading on you. Ah, the glamour of Rock 'n' Roll...

Father's Day - Punk's Not Dead!

Yes! A set of Sex Pistols fridge magnets!
Not only will they brighten up the fridge, but they're educational too - just watch your kids' vocabulary expand.
I was dead chuffed with these...
Hello, what's that noise? Is it the manic cackling of Malcolm McClaren as he stuffs more cash into his coffers, or is it the whirring, high-speed rotation of the corpse of Sid Vicious..?

Congratulations to Ian & Nicola!

...on their wedding this Saturday at Cricket St Thomas, near Chard.

Ian's a lucky bloke - Nicola's lovely, and is obviously very good for him, as he looks happier than I can ever remember seeing him.
Nicola's looking a tad worried in this shot though, as well she might be..!

Everything went off like clockwork on the day, apart from a perfect comically timed vocal interruption from little Rossa just after the "if anyone here present knows of any reason..." bit in the ceremony.

Later on, we were treated to the sight of Ian dancing - a rare thing indeed, and who would have guessed he knew all the actions to YMCA? Unfortunately, that picture didn't come out. Much drinking was done, and the mongooses (or is it mongeese?) and parrots in the courtyard of the pub were suitably startled.

These nuptials are obviously catching, as Grayboots & Lorelei are at it in 3 weeks time - well done, that man!

New pictures

... from our holiday in France, here:
http://www.byphotos.com/album/1334810
Here's a weird and wonderful beasty; a nice fat antlion we found on the beach at Plage de Veillon.
These vicious looking critters lurk just below the sand and leap out to grab passing ants - when you dig one out, it immediately burrows backwards into the sand again - hours of fun.

Eriick's stag do, 3/6/06

Yes, I know it was a week ago, but I was waiting to see if anyone sent me some pictures - they haven't yet, so here's a stock shot courtesy of http://www.pembrokeshire.net/
Fantastic blistering hot day, right on the western tip of Pembrokeshire at Newgale beach, down the road from Ian's new house. Haven't been to this bit of Wales before, but I'll definitely go again - huge sandy beach, campsite, good pub and a pretty decent cafe as well - good call, Ian! It's a 3 hour drive from Bristol, but due to a momentary lapse in my normally unerring sense of direction, I ended up going completely the wrong way and ended up in a different county, turning it into a 5 & a half hour one...
By the time I got there, everybody else had tired of surfing, swimming & kayaking and was ready for some serious drinking, which suited me fine. An excellent barby, a lot of wood and some meths were involved somewhere as well, though the details are all a little hazy now...
Great to see Ian again, it's been quite a few years now - ditto Grayboots, Paul, Steve & everybody else.
Woke up the next morning with the sun beating on the tent and a small army of dwarves with mallets beating on my head.
A bloody good night, but you can tell we're all getting old - there was still beer left over the next day...

The George, Bradford on Avon

3pm on a sunny Sunday afternoon? Who wants to sit in a dark pub drinking beer at a time like that? Well me, obviously; but as I had to drive to this one, I had to just watch everybody else...
Some gigs everything goes just right - no major cock-ups, no broken strings, Chris even remembered the words to his own songs, and hardly insulted anyone. We played pretty well too, even though I say so myself.
One small fly in the ointment was the distinct lack of audience, but hey, that's never stopped us before. The worst night I can remember was in Germany at a club called Poison, in the middle of a godforsaken industrial estate somewhere near Reutlingen - an enormous P.A., a dazzling lighting rig, and we played to the barstaff. Apparently they didn't usually open on a Wednesday night...
Still, there was a small but sturdy band of the sort of ne'er-do-wells who usually come & see us there, and they did us proud, all except the large alsation who slunk off next door with his ears flat & his hackles up...
To cap it all, the extremely charming Landlord offered us a drink when we'd finished - that's free drink! Which I had to turn down! AAaaghh!