Pilton again!

Saturday the 23rd saw us back at the poshest Working Men's Club in the Wessvinglun, after a whistle-stop tour of local garages in search of a needle & thread to correct an unfortunate Wardrobe Malfunction that threatened to reveal to the world a pair of multicoloured leggings that Ruth had wisely elected to hide under a skirt... I still reckon the baling twine in the back of the van would have done the job, but then sartorial elegance was never my strongpoint.
A lot more people this time, though as usual they chose to lurk in the darkness at the back of the room, like wolves circling a campfire. For some reason, people seemed reluctant to respond to Chris's slightly threatening imprecations to "move a little closer", perhaps mindful of what happens when Hannibal Lecter says that...
It was pointed out later that our aging SM58 microphones are now so full of rust, spit, phlegm and beer that no-one could actually hear a word he was saying, which is possibly just as well.
The only ones who came onto the dancefloor were a large posse of small girls, who quickly discovered the 'sliding around' potential, and buffed up the parquet to a lovely shine by the end of the night.
We'll be back on St Patrick's night, so I guess we'd best practise a few jigs 'n' reels by then - and perhaps invest in at least one decent mike, so people can better appreciate the delicate nuances of the lyrics...

Talking of which, I wonder if I'm the only one puzzled by Mitsubishi's decision to advertise their latest planet-killing 4x4 monster truck with a cover of Dylan's 'Hard Rain'..?

http://bobdylan.com/songs/hardrain.html

Pilton Working Mens' Club

A cut above yer average Working Mens' Club, this venue on Saturday - lovely stage, lighting, dance floor, the works. Distinct lack of punters though, as is always the way when everything else is right...
We could have done without one particular punter though - quite the drunkest woman I've ever clapped eyes on (and that's saying something) staggered up to the stage while we were soundchecking to inform us how pissed she was. We'd guessed. I assumed she'd slide quietly beneath a table or be carried out before we started, but no - the lady wanted to dance...
I cocked up several songs due to fits of giggles as she repeatedly bounced off the edge of the stage, fell over on the dancefloor and crawled away on all fours, only to return for more. In between, she made a noise like a baboon with Tourettes' syndrome.
We kind of assumed she was a local 'character' who did this every week, but one of the locals sidled up to Chris in the break and asked: "Is she with you?" No! She isn't! Sure enough, at the end of the night she was poured into a taxi bound for Wells. I hope she had £50 to cover the valeting charge...
We're booked back here on the 23rd, a fortnight's time, so we must have gone down well. Chris had asked someone from the Glastonbury Festival down, but she didn't show this time, so maybe... oh. Oh dear. I really hope it wasn't...

Scallys, WSM

Been looking forward to this one on Friday night for ages, so of course I came down with a cracking dose of man-flu, just so I could enjoy it all the more...
In the tradition of noble self-sacrifice I struggled on regardless, however, and as everyone else gradually melted into sweaty puddles under the lights, I actually started to feel a bit better. Probably the Guinness, which as any doctor will tell you, is Good For You. In fact I stopped sweating, took on a waxy pallor and finally lapsed into rigor mortis, so a good result all round.
(Not as bad as a gig in Portsmouth somewhere about 3 years ago, where I had to run out to the carpark to throw up between sets. Nice. Fell asleep in the drummer's car on the way back, only to be rudely awoken by an undignified screaming & a shower of sparks as the car slid on it's belly across the M32, having left a front wheel embedded in the central reservation. All in all, not a good night.)
Quieter than on Saturdays, when we usually play here, but they still gave us a good reception - special mention to Barry the roadie, who spent all day setting up Status Quo's gear in Bristol before coming to Weston to see us. Wonder if he'd like a job? Unpaid, of course...

He's behind you!

Panto season is nearly upon us, so it must be time for Motorhead's annual visit to these parts...
On the guestlist courtesy of Robin (cheers mate!), so we got there in time to see the support acts as well: Crucified Barbara were a rather lovely Swedish all-girl metal act who struck all the requisite poses & rocked pretty convincingly, despite being hampered by a somewhat muffled front of house PA that made them sound like they were playing under a duvet. Hmm, there's a thought...
Next up were Clutch, a US outfit fronted by a rather scary gentleman who seemed to have just come from a particularly energetic Revivalist meeting - interesting stuff, though.
A couple of pints of the Colston Hall's overpriced Stella later and it was time for the Man Himself... now in his 60's, the grizzled figure of Lemmy still commands the stage, and the boys always put on a good show. It does sort of feel a bit like a panto, though - you know there'll be a 5 minute drum solo (just enough time for the Lemster to nip off stage for a little, er, pick-me-up. Or perhaps to get the lasses from Crucified Barbara to polish his Nazi memorabilia), Ace of Spades will be played for the kids, and Overkill to finish. Everybody knows what to expect and they don't disappoint - as the man says: "We're Motorhead, and we play Rock'n'Roll!"
On the way out, I pick up a leaflet informing me that Steven Seagal, the 'actor' so wooden he makes Pinnocchio look realistic, is touring with his wonderfully named band Thunderbox!
He poses with his guitar, one plank holding another- somehow I doubt he'll still be doing it in 30 years time...

http://www.crucifiedbarbara.com/

http://www.pro-rock.com/v6/main.html

Email to Gmail - never lose a message again

No, wait! This is actually useful, especially if you're an email pack-rat like me; I hate throwing anything out, just on the off-chance...
The great thing about Google's gmail is the enormous online storage capacity, coupled with the ability to search your 'store' & retrieve any message. This puts an end to Outlook Express multiple-folder misery - you don't need to organise your archive, just throw it all in there secure in the knowledge you'll be able to find it if you ever need to (which you won't, let's face it).
Of course, some people are wary of Google looking after their personal messages for them - see here for further info: http://www.google-watch.org/gmail.html
Personally I couldn't give a toss, YMMV.
So, to archive all your OE message folders into gmail (other email clients than OE work as well), follow the instructions here:
http://www.wikihow.com/Import-Archived-Outlook-Email-Into-GMail-Using-GML
Obviously you'll need a gmail account if you haven't already (you haven't? Look here: http://tinyurl.com/mdhv4 ) but basically this uses a neat little programme called gmail loader, the link to it is on the wikihow page above, but here it is anyhow: http://www.marklyon.org/gmail/

The whole process is very easy, and when you've shifted your archive to Google you can junk all those files on your PC, freeing up lots of lovely disc space...
Incidentally, don't forget to set up a rule in OE to forward all messages on to your gmail account, so you'll only have to do this archiving once.

Kings Arms, Stratton on the Fosse

This pub is Nigel's local, and very nice it is too, albeit perhaps a little on the small side!
When I was about 15, the band I was in used to practise in various people's front rooms, which invariably involved sweeping a load of family photos off the mantelpiece with the neck of your guitar, treading on the cat and stopping the drummer from dribbling on the soft furnishings. Occasionally someone's mum would poke their head round the door with a tray of custard creams...
By the time we'd got all our gear set up in the back room of this pub, said room was completely full, which meant we were essentially playing to an open door through which the odd bemused punter would peer as if observing a cage full of badly behaved monkeys.
Convention dictates that playing to a solid wall is acoustically a Bad Thing, so we were pleasantly suprised to find that it didn't actually sound too bad, and the 29 punters (yes, we counted them) seemed to have a good time, as did the incredibly cheerful landlord. At least, he didn't set his Rottweilers on us.

YouTube

As part of my continuing quest to move my entire life online, where it will be cheaper and won't take up so much space, may I present slylittleitv!
You can get to my YouTube channel via the link over there -->
All I need now is a camera. And something to point it at.

This is my lil' brother Gavin's bus, by the way - cheers to Steve for the film.