aka The Leinster Arms
Ade Ish turned up with a bunch of mates from Sydney and put up a lively set featuring the electronic saxaphone (Adolphe turning in his grave no doubt). The Captain wisely retired hurt at the first opportunity, leaving Sub Lieutenant Kuhn to the mercies of some funky little numbers…
There followed a pleasant afternoon’s ballad mangling in the finest traditions of the Jammers – amongst the mangled bodies that littered the carpet by the end of it, I detected the corpses of Little Sunflower, Mercy Mercy Mercy (that one played so slow it would have sounded better backwards..) and an experimental rendition of Moonlight in Vermont which left both singer (Kev) and musicians (Debonair JC et al) confused, bemused and enthused in equal measure.
There was a good turn-up of musos, (21) with the following pleading guilty, as they should: Colonel T of the Fourth Light Punjab Horse (actually, he played rather well) Bruce, Chrissie, Steve (drums, pretty smooth), Ivan on the hooge double bass, Lisette (p), happy birthday by the way, Carlton (bass) Chico (g), Debbie, Gerald (D and P), meself and Ian (g) on a truly lame version of Song For My Father, cheap at any price, and young Alex (drums) and John (p) rounding out the night. A slightly nervous Keelie got up and sang for the first time in years, and we hope she does it again.
And then we all had Glens Fat Chips and went home, or something.
Meanwhile, avid readers of this august journal will have spotted a missive from the Divine Miss Smith, last seen lurking around sailors in Northern Climes. One can only appreciate her decision not to go swimming in the sea because of sharks – some of those creatures are of a nervous disposition anyway, and this would only make it worse.
The late Miss Smith (well, she has never turned up early) has clearly been drinking too much of the jungle juice as she appears to be under the impression that Hortense is accompanying her – had she been asked, and she may have been, one feels sure that Hortense would have declined on the grounds that she never goes north of Altona – other than the attempted congenial visit with Rotten Ronnie Junior, although that ended badly due to Hortense’s limited understanding of English, and Rotten Ronnie’s unfortunate accident in the Ballarat region.
But I digress: do turn up for a little Jam Session next Sunday, we will all play in tune, bars will not be dropped, the saxaphones will never play more than one chorus, and then only after everyone else has had a dip, we will decline to play Watermelon Man, Autumn Leaves, Summertime, Caravan and, with any luck, the woeful Little Sunflower, and the charts will all be right way up, and… well that might all be an exaggeration, but turn up anyway!