02 June 2013

LINKED IN - Church Summer Fayre, June 1


Wonderful merry Christian gathering at the church this Saturday June 1.

Baubles and bangles and jams and yams and sweetmeats and marmalades.

I won a ton of booze on the Tombola.

Appallingly ill-attended, an absolute disgrace - where were the 'faithful' who troop in each Sunday and genuflect a good knee and wave and clap with the best? Where were the huggers and muggers and slobbery kissers?

I bought the usual food and faffery - what I did not cough up for (but photographed from every angle with loud explanations for everyone within hearing) was a dinky gift-box of bad-taste tie and cheap cufflinks - almost as cheap as my mother accused my own 40-year collection of being after I'd confronted her over her filch and removal of my most precious possessions to Villa Thefti.

My stolen treasures (posts passim) are in my Will of January 2003, itemised for my two daughters. I had agreed to 'busk' at the Fayre and when I came to the line in Island in the Sun about being 'willed by my father's hand' I thought of my gals and cast a silent but fervent curse from God's garden out to the thieves.      

I liked the idea of even a naff church stall having on offer what I myself no longer possessed, thanks to their purloinment by a very Pillar of the Church in whose garden I was strumming.

Sincere Venom ~ I have a theory about casting ones prayers of spite on the waters. I know Le Bon Dieu is meant to be all about Love and Forgiveness and the rest of it and I'm sure the Tablets had some smallprint about not doing Evil and not asking for bad stuff to happen to people etc etc.

But when you think of all wishy-washy stuff that ascends on high each Sunday from the faithful, the anaemic requests that He has to sit thru each Sabbath, I bet a manly swinging dick of a curse, something with balls, is given just as fair a hearing. He might re-direct it to the Evil One below, but at least He will have considered it and I bet He has a sneaking admiration for anyone who sticks to his guns.

A merry gathering, as I say, and Rob valiantly kept the music going and was generous with his loan and advice of his tip-top gear - professional mic that wraps round the back of the head and clings close to the bouche  like all the top performers. The Echo went wildly out of tune but it was a wonderfully amped tunelessness.

 A dicey moment when a cool ginslinger turned up with Raybans and a decent Squier and proceeded to grope at the strings, but he lost interest after a while and shunted off.

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