Yes yes yes its my autumn almanac

Well, its been a bracing start to the Autumn campaign. indeed, with the first snows still lingering in the Blackdowns, and the Christmas Single (available on iTunes and Amazon) being dusted off yet again, it's time for another stovepipe.

We kicked off with another stonking trip to the Racehorse - and one that nearly never happened. in five years ofmgigging, only once have we ever had to cancel. But we cam perilously close this time. Only with the support of industrial doses of Imodium and a prescription of Port with a Brandy mixer was poor Harry able to make it through a typically manic night out in Tonetown. Fancy New Year's Eve? Get your free tickets now, they're disappearing fast and you can't come in without them!

No sooner had Harry trodden on his first duck without dropping a pebble, than we were off to Tiverton for a 70th birthday. The theme was 'music through the Ages', and we do like to hit the dressing up box. Whtndid we learn? That 70 year olds aren't what they used to be. Especially if you're in Tivvy. With more pep than a Naga Viper, and more energy than a fast breeder, our host put the majority of attendees a third of her age to shame. She got the moves.



With all this gigging activity, we kind of gave up rehearsing so used our time up Jon Mann's back alley at the Exeter to do some recording. With professor Gleeson back at the controls, the fruits of a couple of hours guerrilla recording are free for you to download to enjoy at your leisure. We recommend you listen naked.

With our mojo rising, it was back to where it all started, the Thorverton Arms, for a bit of a homecoming. The surprise Friday Night party had a James Bond theme, which although no-one told us of, we were able to contribute to by muddling our way through a passable stab at 'Live and Let Die'.



With a quick stop at the Bowling Green, which we love, allowing us to press the flesh with the good folk of the big city, we were on a roll. So much that we were playing at an alarming pace and had to pull 40 minutes material out of our stovepipes as we'd played 43 songs by twenty past eleven. Sometimes, the extent of our knowledge of inappropriate party songs surprises even us. It's that limited.

So with our danders up, it was time once again for the Bradninch Halloween Party. This gets bigger every year. It was our third time in a row, and there will definitely be a fourth. The best performance of a straight run of seven in a row, it was inspired by the smell of greasepaint, regular doses of the spirit of jazz and clear sight of a range of devilish corsetry. What a combination. We loved it, we love Bradninch, and we'd like to come play your festival this summer. Can we be your Friday night lovers?



So, that's Autumn. And when winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

Next stop the Black Horse, then back to the bat cave for a rub down and a strategy session. What we need is a Manifesto.

Love you you lovely lovers.
Byeeeeee!
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