Or something like that. Some Sundays, we arrive late, and find everyone standing around seriously thinking, possibly about playing some music, although it is hard to tell. This Sunday was one such, but if anyone was seriously contemplating playing music, they fortunately came to their senses and we had a regular jam session instead. They were all there, other than the Captain, Colonel T of the Fourth Light Punjab Cavalry, Ivan on his electric bass (5 string, natch) Mike Hirsch, Bob and meself, and I am struggling to remember who else. Paige turned up for a late entry, and played real smooth bass, because he can.
Spent most of the afternoon gossipng, trying to persuade the recalcitrant to get up and play or sing, chatting to some Italians from Napoli, exchanging idle banter with the Leinster Arms 8 Ball extra 3B reserves team, listening to Sonia, enjoying the music and quaffing the occsional refreshing beverage, as you do.
There may well be other ways of winding down from a hard week’s work, but they escape me.
I notice Madge has been remarkably quiet of late, but she did let slip that she had her purse stolen by a young and handsome mountebank last week. Chased him from one end of Altona West to the other (it only has two ends, and its other dimensions pale into insignificance once Madge gets her dander up.) The said charlatn was eventually apprehended by a passing bicycle salesman of Italian parentage, who handed back her purse with a flourish
Whereupon Madge looked him over but once, gave a supercilious snort, passed the purse back to the theif and gave chase all over again.
It’s an old and well worn purse, but he was quite handsome….
Ifd you do come to the jam next week, stick to the black notes, they are cheaper.