I may have mentioned before.

Knott End Working Men's Club. The aforesaid girlfriend worked for a community group and each year filled the WMC on a weekday afternoon with elderly people from care homes and those they helped to live at home etc for a concert.

I got roped into it and I was up on stage doing me bit as it were, and I noticed, as well as the stage lighting allowed, a commotion near a door at the rear of the concert hall. I plodded on and finished my turn.

To this day, I feel guilty that the last thing one lady ever heard in her life was me stood there with a banjo, singing about my little bimbo out on a bamboo isle, or possibly Goodnight Irene (luckily that wasn't her name...) or even a Marriot Edgar monologue.

Any road, don't tell Backwoodsman, BanjoyRay or the rookery I have a banjo. I keep telling them it is purely for research purposes.

(That said, we all went to watch Martin Simpson last night. He could easily alter my position re banjos. Ray knows I love them really.)