ROTFLMAO I don't know what that means cos I'm thick. I thought it was sort of like "Roll me over lay me down and do it again"Cat have you got to keep your mouth shut still-it dribbles out? I don't understand this choice bit. Spit or swallow?
Anyway. When I see that Terry Silver again, he's dead, because I remeber he sung a terrible song, picked at infamously fast speed (How he got his name-he tells us!)Concerning my rubbish, plywood, Japanese guitar. I'll have your strings for that my son. Very funny it was too.
Where did I get too? Ah, I remember. The landlady of the fidler's bought us a drink on Saturday night if we'd shut up and stop playing, but we fooled her, by drinking it quickly between tunes and carried on playing-she didn't do that again!Frank (The landlord)tried on Sunday, but it didn't work either. We aren't so easily shut up, we can out perform anyone with terrible playing. In fact we got a gig there booked already as torture for American tourists!
Everyone we met was really great, both inside and out. The local musicians who let us crash their sessions, and put up with my playing, the people, who'd chat to you in the street. Fib's parents. The honour of meeting John and Philipa with their incredible knowledge.
There are many events and little annecdotes (That's what skip call me-his little antidote) and I forget many. Jude's son Robert-who scored and wasn't ever seen again! Jude's partner Paul, who owes me £10.00 for fixing the tele so he could watch the footie.Jude, who never platted my pony tail and so owes me a plat, at least-though I got a 3D hug.
Sunday-When the light finally shone through the window, about an hour (it seemed) after we'd got to bed. I awoke, which was luck or else I'd have been dead and not writing (Don't start!)There was this terrible sound like a steam train rushing through a tunnl backwards, like the thunder and crashing, snorting of a thousand horses, but it was only Alanww. He was also mumbling in his sleep. "Why do you reject me skip?" I think he was asleep or was he recalling some other earlier experince that I misssed as I slept the sleep of the just-I'll never find out as I promised I'd never tell anyone!
Breakfast!! A sort of hush fell over the assemblage and the eyes were the same as before, only worse and much redder. Cllr couldn't face his again and left 11/12th of it. Noreen couldn't eat much of hers, many people left theirs or bits of theirs. I eat all of mine, as did Micca, who claimed that he'd just worked up a grand appetite. Cat was full of it and couldn't chew in case she dribbled. (I always knew she was clever, because she can read dots on bits of paper and make music from them) and had a grin like a cheshire-cat that is not cheese! Skipjack lay in bed, despite me telling him he'd be late for school.To which he replied, "leave me alone mum, I feel sick". He then had the bloody nerve to turn over and aask me to write him a note.Eventually he fell downstairs and declared that he'd lost his memory (not mammary) and didn't know where he was.His cake, which he had prepared and worn the day before, was still sitting festering in the kitchen waiting to be cooked.After breakfast, many of us got free rides on the ferry to the other side-I'm told that they wanted us to pay over £100.00 to be taken back, as the locals had bribed the captain to get rid of us.But in the gloriously warm sunlight, with the blue sky and clear blue water we were having none of that, and upon the threat of singing,were taken back for free as well. (It might have had something to do with the people of Strangford standing there with shotguns threatening to, "kill the bloody bastard on the ferry if you leave that lot on our side".) So, some of us packed our bags. Some of us dissapeared for a while-well Skipjack did, when I finally found him, he said he'd been for a shower. he didn't look much better and I told him he was a bloody shower. To which he replied "Burp". So that had the desired effect.He put his bun in the oven and it came out with a cloacha! He said he'd put some icing on that-I told him not to be disgusting!
We went to the Fiddler's and started to play. The pub emptied in 2 minutes flat-a new record!!!!We took photo's, drew raffles, won prizes, played tunes, drunk coffee-The alcoholics amongst us, who were staying and not driving put more filthy liquor down their throttles.(Evil disgusting people-you know who you are.)Noreen finally met Gargoyle, but swoped him for some mysterious white powder to smuggle back through customs! I don't know where she put it, and I don't think it meant anything when she asked skip if he had any condoms! Skipjack held an "Icing on the cake workshop" He told me that he often out the icing on the cake, but I didn't know what he meant by that and let it slip, it slipped onto the floor, but Richard picked it up and put it back in his mouth.Everyone was foolish enough to eat a bit of his cake- I don't think it impressed the locals him standing there saying, "You eat of my body" and then with a pint of Guinnes saying "you drink of my blood". Nor did it go down well when he wanted to play the "Irish march set", but as his fingers wern't working again, he didn't, so it was alright.
It was time for us to go. So we went. After the photo's and causing a traffic jam and going all the way to Drumergadie (or somewhere, sounds ike that) to look at the sea. We finally arrived at the airport. Skip spent the last hour snoring in the back (sounded like a big bore exhaust) Noreen re-met her masculine side and navigated-"go down this road" she said. We got the car back in time, got on the plane and came home.
Litle things. Fib, I am so glad you have cess pools in the road-very handy! Frank- you owe Skip a couple of pints-very silly! We'll be back to collect them!!!
To everyone who stayed back-Me, Skip and Noreen hate you all!!!!!!!
It was the most wonderful time.
Thankyou to everyone who made it such fun.
I should like to apologise to anyone who I have upset, caused pain and suffering to in this narrative. BUT I WONT!!!!!- You can get even in Groningen!!!! In May-yes... can't wait.
PS;Richard-you still owe me them DADGAD thingies, love to Pat and Hannah.
Goodnight.