Well, Sinsull, did you get lost? (Yeah, I know you volunteer at the lighthouse so you were going to be late.)

I HAD the whale (obnoxious bloody thing) with me, too. As a matter of fact, it was the centerpiece on the table. (I have pictures to prove it.) Picture this: the whale tambourine lying on its side amidst pints of Guinness and concertinas, with a beautifully crafted miniature harpoon in its side. (The harpoon was made by a former student of Tom's.)

It generated a lot of comment (which I have on tape).

It was a really nice session -- let's see, Tom, Charlie, Brien, John (Charlie's nephew who turns out to be my young neighbor Druinn's teacher at the Arts charter school), Jeri and I. Dave Halliwell showed up for a few songs -- Alison Freeman stopped by for a few minutes (and one song) in between gigs in Massachusetts and Augusta, Maine, and David Coffin, singer from Gloucester, Massachusetts, was in Portsmouth for about an hour or so because his wife wanted to do some shopping. He sang a couple, with his charming daughter joining in the choruses.

Anyway, back to the whale. It's still on the table with a harpoon stuck between the noisy things. It's on it's side, probably dead. (And at least not clanking if it's not moving.) Nobody spilled Guinness on it, either. It was just lying there, peacefully.

Then came the usual confusion following the last song, and the waitress swooping in with tabs and people telling us how great we sounded (really) and did we do this often and me telling them about the monthly sessions and about the Portsmouth Maritime Folk Festival next weekend and how all the events are free and the exchange of business cards, etcet etcet and me trying to tell Jeri about the cool footstools I snagged at a yardsale this morning (three of 'em -- cast resin so they can prolly live on the deck in the summer -- in the shape of a lobster, a crab and an octopus -- why doesn't anyone make yard squid?!?) as I was packing up the tape recorder, tapes, camera, words to Charlie's song, the small insulated carrier we left at Charlie's party last weekend, Tom was passing out PMFF posters and flyers to be put up in various places this week.

Anywho, next thing I knew, Tom had disappeared out the door and I gathered stuff up (thank goodness they mostly had carrying straps except for the bag of stuff from Paradizo around the corner which is going out of business and having a 50% off sale -- did I tell you about that? -- absolutely THE best place for greeting cards ever and she's decided she's tired of running the shop after 13 years) and ran (well, walked forcefully, weaving through the later Saturday crowd standing in clumps) out the door after him. Caught up with him at the car (I don't think he would have left me . . .), got everything stuffed into the space around my feet and managed to escape the parking place with someone who wanted the spot running interference.

We set off in quest of the map to scan for the PMFF program which I have to get together before Monday night. (Peter's handling the permission to use it again.)

We were almost out of the city when I realized I'd left the whale on the table (or that's where I thought it was since I hadn't put it back in my purse). Turned a u-ie out around Newick's and headed back to town. Swung back down Daniel Street. Tom circled the block while I ran into the Press Room. The place was mobbed and the tables were, of course, put back into pre-session formation. The whale was nowhere in sight -- not on a table, not on the piano. Caught the eye of the waitress as she was coming from the kitchen. She hadn't seen it, but a bunch of tourists from Connecticut had been sitting in the vicinity.

So I think the whale was abducted by aliens -- non-New Hampshirites from Connecticut.

At least I got the harpoon back. It was on the floor next to the piano.

I TRIED to return the whale, but you didn't show up! (You never call, you never write . . .)

Linn (sorry)