Hold on a cotton-pickin' minute . . .

Any suggestion that I've been miserable in my contributions is an outright lie (and I don't remember Dick being that either, but he can speak for himself).

I've been reading Borfolk since its first publication 30 years ago. It was funny then (as I said), and still is . . . though tinged with poignancy and frustration that the underlying, systemic problems that have existed in English trad music since the revival are, sadly, still there and improving not one wit.

This is because certain elements just don't care about standards, presentation, image and professionalism. That's hardly being miserable, it's speaking the stark, unvarnished truth about how the English as a nation, alone in the world, have been conditioned and educated into despising and being ashamed of their cultural heritage.

This is not solely my analysis, as borne out by liberal quoting and paraphrasing by me from a number of sources, notably The English Acoustic Collective.

But Lawrence Heath, disguised as the hapless Frank, was saying it way back in Southern Rag and he's saying it now (clearly far too gently for some) in the spoof thread.. Unfortunately, some are taking this as "ooh look, aren't we quaint". No, you're letting gold slip through your fingers by not safeguarding and investing it.


Off-topic alert but I didn't raise the points:

One point of correction out of millions: my first major feature was on the Steeleye Span relaunch in 1971 (which was not only for the Morning Star but was extensively syndicated), but obviously I was aware of all its multitudinous components long before Ashley pressganged them.. I used to be Cecilia Sharp, great-niece of Maud Karpeles, doncha know (somebody once wrote to me believing that . . .).

Oh, and did I know Karl Dallas? Yes, of course. He even propositioned me. Twice, IIRC, and he only tried it on with Anne Briggs once.


And yes, Norman. Spot on re the cats.