No one played a bum note all afternoon, the Bistro was its usual busy self, the sun shone, we all had a good time…
Probably, I wouldn’t know, I was away. Calamatta put in a half hearted effort, turning round about halfway there.
All of this made possible by the fact that there was no jam session, what with the Captain leading the Wangaratta mob, and me transporting the PA to Portland and back for a fine wedding on a farm in Narrawong.
We’ll be back with a vengeance this Sunday, with Bolivian nose floots, bagpipes and a rough assemblage of soxollip hones, Geetars, drums, pianolistic keynotes, tall tales and true and quite possibly a bass player or two.
Should be rather fun…
Correspondence received from Bendigo Towers…
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TW