2017 was put to bed with the bands usual joie de vie; high octane fun coupled to poor taste jumpers and a Santa Mankini. It all looked like a jolly time from my hotel room in Lisburn.Tweedy kept up a steady stream of once seen never forgotten photographs and some of the newer members of the band were actively seeking Blog nicknames. A Blog nickname is given after a time of carefully observing the foibles and habits of a bandsman, a particularly noteworthy idiotic action (ask Scooby) or in Wee Rubber’s case divulging too much personal history. Anyone who says, “I think I should be called X,” is likely to be known as Needy.
There is scant information on the kids Christmas party, I’m assuming it was the usual sugar fuelled mayhem, all zooming about and party games. As for the adults Christmas party, there seems to be a news blackout although the interference pattern on Ecks tank top managed to make it through. Pipey departed and left Brian in charge, Brian is Chief Instigator and shouldn’t be let out unsupervised.
This year there was a push for some sort of new year get together as senior players had no gigs. James the Hat as ever proposed a suitable venue and notices were posted. He even discovered a sound system that only needed the aux wire off my telly to work. Result. The disco lights were awful and most people failed to notice them. We had no idea if anyone would turn up but DJ Andrew the Mighty threw the switch at 8 and heralded in our first new year party with his Maws playlist. There were 9 of us and it was looking grim but soon the doors opened and the KPB crew arrived shortly followed by the Boolers and the Aunties. We danced the Gay Gordon’s to The Corries and boogied, shimmied and foxtrotted through to the Bells. Our mini band played The Heilan Grannie with a 6.5 pace roll and drunken honks. It all settled down and sounded good after the initial hiccups. I played Auld Lang Syne, apparently I’m the only one who knows it. In the we wee small hours I approached Pipey to say the key holder had to go home, we both looked at the sad broken marionette that was James the Hat and the party was over.
2018 has proven to be a lot less fun, the new training regime is moving us to where Pipey wants but it’s only 2 months to Sanquhar.