During a conversation with the Major from our WARTS walking group – to protect the guilty and for the purpose of this ramble, a gentleman whom we will name Pater – he suggested that I should write a ramble about the significant birthday parties I had every ten years following and including my 40th in June 1987.
Pater suggested this probably because he was a significant influential figure in three of my birthday parties and hasn’t been mentioned in my rambles for weeks!
Our musical collaborations at my birthday parties have been eventful, partly due to the fact that he is a very good guitarist but thinks he isn’t, whereas I am not but I don’t care.
A joint 40th/18thbirthday bash with daughter Rachel
The first big do was a fairly standard affair for the time with a buffet supper and a disco. Me and Rachel had a joint 40th and 18th at the Golcar Conservative Club with approximately 100 friends and family attending.
As the photo shows, Rachel was well into her Goth phase, and I was re-entering my beer drinking phase following my near abstinence during my sporting years (see ramble ‘This sporting life’). The photo on the right is of Dave Hill clearly capturing my undivided attention while he was probably telling me how easy it was to persuade people to part with lots and lots of their money, which he did by the barra load.
A rock and roll gig for my 50th
My 50th was at the Colne Valley Choir rehearsal rooms at the Conservative Club in Slaithwaite. This was the first that Pater was involved with.
We had played together a little for friends and familyalready and I persuaded him to join me on stage for my party. We decided on an upbeat rock and roll set including the Rolling Stones and Status Quo. We rehearsed for weeks in the staff room of the local doctor’s surgery, which we were able to secretly use because Pater knew where the key was kept.
Just one of the early problems stemmed from Pater insisting that I play lead on one of the songs. Dancing up and down the fret board and playing one string or a series of notes at any one time had never been what my big, callused builder’s knuckles had ever been persuaded to do previously.
If I was expected to play a particular song that just included the chords E, A and B7, or perhaps another with the occasional C, C7 or D, I was more than happy. Unfortunately playing lead meant that most of my practice and rehearsal time was taken up with this one bloody song –Caroline by Status Quo.
Doubts creep in about the drummer
The choir was also invited to this one and knowing that a member of the choir played in a dance band, I asked him if he could provide a few members to play early on in the evening. Pater thought it would be a spiffing idea if we could ask the bass player and drummer to play along with us, the drumming being an important driving force behind all rock and roll songs. I therefore took steps to pre-arrange this spiffing idea.
The evening started off very well. I left a very expensive (£75) bottle of whisky with my sister to guard, so I could sneak a couple of beer chasers throughout the evening. A hundred and fifty people consumed the buffet lovingly provided and prepared by Moi, much alcohol was quaffed, and all were having a jolly good time.
However, Pater noticed that when the dance band played, the drummer was only required to play in one style throughout all of their songs, using just his drum brushes. This sounded a bit liketchchch tat tattchchch tat tattchchch tat tattchchch – obviously ideal for dance and jazz bands, but, given our rather more energetic genre, Pater became a little concerned. Still, we optimistically decided it would surely be all right.
Fears well founded but whisky helps to see the funny side
Unfortunately, I had consumed several beer chasers and, having noticed that my sister was getting quite drunk on my expensive whisky, I didn’t want her to drink it all before I had my share. It was too late for the both of us because by the time Pater and I got on stage, I was as happy as could be and didn’t care, and Rhondda was as drunk as her husband John had ever seen her in their eventual 60 years of marriage. It was very nice whisky though.
Pater and I had given the set to the band and particularly asked the drummer if he was familiar with the songs, which he assured us he was. Our first song to get the crowd buzzing, if I remember correctly, was Brown Sugar and our previous fears became immediately justified: behind us with the ‘driving force’ that could only be provided by a dance band drummer came tchchch tat tattchchch tat tattchchch tat tattchchch.
When we finished that song, Pater and I turned to each other and laughed; luckily even Pater saw the funny side to it. Of course, we could do nothing at that stage but make the most of it and all of the six songs we played were driven ruthlessly forward by tchchchtattattchchch tat tattchchch tat tattchchchfrom behind us.
A rockstar reception – but the band splits
Probably the most entertaining few seconds of that evening was when a pair of knickers flew through the air and landed on my microphone right in front of my face. It was a hell of a shot, which I later discovered came from David, one of the choir members, who had borrowed a clean (I think) pair from the club stewardess. And what do you do when full of alcohol and a pair of knickers lands on your microphone? I put them on my head of course; surely it would be rude not to.
I was drunk, my playing was rubbish, but everybody had a great time, except perhaps Pater. Another 20 years passed before I could persuade him to do it again.
During the evening my friend, and immediate neighbour, Gary, got up and recited an excellent monologue that he wrote, in which he expressed his heartfelt desire that he wouldn’t have to hear about that bloody Caroline through the walls anymore.
Reliving our youth at my 60th
My 60th, again, took place at the Golcar Conservative Club. Readers may think at this stage that I have some sympathies with the Conservative Party, which is not necessarily the case.The Conservative club in Golcar has a very affordable concert room that holds many happy memories of attending dances there in my youth (see ‘Norky’s ramblings: when rock and roll came here to stay’). The Slaithwaite Con Club happens to be where the choir rehearsed.
I was at this time playing with Antique Gold, who I was instrumental in re-forming along with my brother-in-law John playing bass. I was again only expected to play my customary five to ten chords. Pater formed a one-off separate band with individuals we both knew.
I decided this was to be a fancy-dress party with people dressing as they did when they were 18. Included in my dress code was a pair of winkle pickers from a fancy-dress shop in Leeds and they crippled me. I haven’t worn them since; in fact, I haven’t seen them since – I probably burnt them. Many guests made an excellent effort though.
The food was a ‘sop supper’ (beef and pickled onion teacakes) provided by our local butcher, the late Michael Thewlis. Vegans and vegetarians were provided with a teacake, and gluten-free hadn’t been invented yet.
70th birthday: the band reforms (temporarily)
To even out my political sympathies slightly, my 70th took place in the Golcar Liberal Club, another local club very much associated with my youth. The snap was a pie and pea supper, organised and served up very ably by my little brother Nick and his family, with pies from Bolster Moor Farm Shop.
The entertainment was provided by a local ladies’ quartet singing mainly 40s songs. Then I got up and did a little solo turn, soon joined by Pater on lead, Pater’s brother Steve on bass, Moi’s brother Stu on proper rock and roll drums, and Phil on keyboard. I did a further set of six songs with them and was then kicked off the stage while they carried on, naming themselves Bash Street Kids. I had promised to stay completely sober until I had finished playing and not a drop of alcohol passed my lips, but during one song I still got a simple chord sequence wrong.
It coincided with the moment I noticed ‘The Colonel’ (another WARTS member) dancing, at least I think that was what she was doing.She appeared to be summoning the rain gods or jiggling the dance of St. Vitus. There was a large space around her, and she periodically told anyone who would listen what a great time she was having. I have to say that she did look like she was having a great time, and she didn’t at all appear to be under the influence of anything. Perhaps that’s how Colonels act when they’re having a great time.
I have assured Pater that if I’m still around for my 80th, I won’t have the energy to do anything like this again. He seems relieved, although I’m not sure exactly which aspect of that he’s relieved about.
