Friday September 18th 2020.

It’s back to JS blogging this week as I’ve to get to grips with a new WordPress editor. As always with me, it’s nothing but the bare facts.

The first “turn” was a celebration of tone deafness, ham-fisted guitar work and general musical ineptitude ie. I started.

Moving swiftly on to T Gwyn. His electrical stuff was now working, so we could hear him with some clarity, although the pick up in the guitar Alun sold him (off-loaded is probably the word I’m looking for) was still a bit iffy.

T Gwyn

Folk music’s answer to Delia Smith, Gaffer, made pease puddin’. It actually seemed to take the 9 days. This was followed by the full version of the song about various creatures urinating on us from a wall. It was much more entertaining than it sounds.

New Faces! Lisa and Steve joined us last night and what a joy they were. Playing banjo and Autoharp (I originally called it a zither but was fortunately corrected as I can’t spell zither). Their Zoom sound quality wasn’t, to be honest, the best. Two main problems – Lisa let Steve have the best mic and foolishly took Alun’s advice and lowered her mic toward the banjo. Zoom defaults to the loudest sound and a banjo is always going to win. They were great fun and I hope they’ll be back next week.

Glenys bored the arse off us with a photo of her just born grandson, who’s name she was unable to pronounce. We all love you to bits, Glenys and could see you were ecstatic with the new arrival. xxxx. Time to give up work?

Lesley (outside our back door)

Lesley read a Scots piece about seagulls the worse for the drink; it was originally a song but she ditched the tune and the chorus, the latter being particularly crap.

Mike was predictably note perfect. Sadly he won’t be this side of the turf much longer if he persists in taking the pee out of the Jocks. We now have a significant Scots presence (Lesley, Lisa and, it turns out, Ian). Despite their outwardly gentle demeanour, they are genetically programmed to be violent.

Carl turns up every week and we know him to be a member of Trelawnyd Male Voice Choir. I’d spotted him with a guitar and we got him to sing “My love is like a red, red, rose”. I’ve often thought about doing this one myself, but my voice is hopelessly inadequate. Carl’s isn’t. Lovely. Hopefully there will be more next week.

Ian (now in Kent), was born in Glasgow, but moved South to warmer, less violent climes at an early age. I don’t know what surprises me more. The fact that his father was a lion tamer or that I believe him. Even in the cold light of Saturday morning. This goes against Shepherd’s rules for life :-

  1. Believe nothing.
  2. Trust no one.
  3. Deny everything.
  4. Pass the buck.

Bee had some strong political stuff tonight. I don’t think she’s a fan of Boris and his mates, even with that lovely Mr Hancock in charge of health (it could be Grayling!!!). To provide balance, Gething is equally useless. Dafydd had something translated by a retired dentist. Nothing to do with me.

Alun and Gordon

Alun had had the Brasso out (other metal polishes are available) and “Gordon” was tuned up, given a shine and treated to a night off the wall. “Lass of Glenshee” to appease the St. Johnston supporters.

End of round 1. More of the same round 2, plus some truly terrible jokes from Adie.

I need to go and smarten up as the police say they want to interview me this morning. I don’t remember applying for a job there , but if the money is ok….

Watch it all again

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