Watching the wonderful Mick sinking slowly into terra-less than-firma brought back the vivid picture of yours truly pitching ever so slowly back into a glowing fireplace at the Tudor House (live folk music nitely!)

The leg on my stool had broken, and I quickly realised that your life DOESN"T pass before your eyes as you plunge to uncertainty or worse. All I could think of (and this isn't a joke) was:

A. What an embarrasing way to end my career (let alone my life)

B. If I hold my Custom Larrivee (with the ivory bridge and "Tree of Life" inlay) over my head, will someone grab it before I immolate?

C. What would Joan of Arc do at a time like this? (well, that part's not true)

D. At least now I don't ever have to sing "Heart of Gold" again!

...Well, using super-human strength, I managed to save the guitar, roll sideways, and WILL the fire-place to be 8 feet behind me, instead of 2. Oh, and I still had 27 renditions of "Heart of Gold" to go before I got out of bars and opted for poverty.

Funny thing, Tony Burns also plunged into the plants (and he's bigger than Mick) but he hardly got a laugh. It's the "originators" that get the ink!

Rick