A Bit Of A Turn-On

A busy weekend saw me out in the cold, on a street corner, in a coat that I am obviously allergic to, blowing into my horned instrument. Yes, it was time for the delights of the ceremonial Fordingbridge Christmas lights switch on. From what I could see through my streaming eyes and rapidly blurring vision it was the same old, same old carols and child-greedfest. I couldn't rely on my hearing, as whatever sounds were emerging from the crowd bore little resemblance to any recognisable tunes. What I could hear was the numerous double-entendres about the lights being "turned-on" coming out of the mouth of the barmy compere, as he nudged Santa suggestively. He really should stick to his day job, which is, in fact, burying the dead.

The next day was the, now traditional, December outing to a Levellers gig. This time at the Southampton Guildhall. The evening culminated in not getting lost, an absence of unbridled t-shirt purchasing, lots of boozy pogoing, lisping violinists, sneaky fags and a journey home sing-along to the freebie CD, hoorah!