Losehill Hall and the dancing dervish (but he didn't last long!)

Long time no blog....thought I had better break my silence and mention our recent gig in the wilds of Derbyshire (the best county in the UK, of course!) in Castleton or thereabouts. It brought back memories for me as I remember going on a train to Hope station as a child with my parents and my brother to experience camping and walking and other healthy outdoor pursuits. I can almost feel the bracing air in my lungs....

We went past the station to get to Losehill Hall on Saturday night, dodging road works and random car drivers. Very grand it is too, though in the pouring rain it had a gothic quality, carved from the dark night sky. We were given pie and peas, crumble and a bed for the night, as well as a slap up breakfast, so the events organisers were generous and hospitable.

Only problem was no-one wanted to listen to a rock band - they wanted to talk, and who can blame them? We even tried luring them in with an acoustic set, leaving the door of the strangely detached room we were playing in open, and we threw out every possible cover we could, for a range of ages. The result was a group of non-plussed looking people, most of whom were rangers, standing as if embossed to the walls and kind of staring but not joining in, except for one guy who threw himself momentarily on the dance floor when we started in to Johnny Be Goode, and then just as quickly gave up. It was like an appearance of the Tasmanian devil!

Nothing really worked so, in the end, we started to play our last set pretty much for ourselves, at which point some guys appeared who were keen to hear something loud and exciting and even with only a tiny, but appreciative audience, I had some of the best fun I've had singing for a while. We played well, enjoyed ourselves and then sat imbibing in the bar for ages, before retiring to beds bedecked in emerald green covers....

It was a far cry from the RV!!