South Hill Park, Bracknell
2 Feb, 2008
Jake has a cold.
I forget my suit but manage to organise a panic-stricken reunion. Couldn’t play without it.
And so this is Bracknell. What have we done.
We hang out in the Haversham Room with a mad old lady in a moth-eaten wedding-dress.
Down in the basement bar, the ceiling’s so low that Jake and I have to abandon our customary stand-up routine (that’s the stand-up-straight routine. Jim does the comedy one).
Jake plays a largely acoustic gig – no mean feat given our give-it-large decibel rating. The man must have chops of steel.
Clive finds an odd shaped brush in one of his bags. Jim offers it as a prize to anyone who can guess what’s supposed to be brushed with it. Noone dares.
Find myself looking at dead chairs and rivets during some prominent trumpet sections. Seems to work.
Nobody leaves. Think we win them over.
Kristen from Candid joins us for the second set and does a solo on T-shirt and 7” vinyl.
Jake’s cold is all blown out. Bleach oatcakes anyone?
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