Sunday Jam

Rob arrived first. It was a tradition, but he knew the rest of the group would not be far behind.

RBB was the principal fiddle player. He entered through the side glass panel door.

RJ was the next to arrive and they all went down stairs to meet and greet. As they stood chatting a late model Peugeot glided up the drive. "That's electric" said Rob, "can't wait to see under the bonnet". C the driver obliged and they all stood around ogling the engine. For all intents and purposes it looked like a four cylinder petrol motor.  But a closer inspection revealed that those leads on the side were not for sparking plugs. This was a front wheel electric configuration. Rob whistled through his teeth "What a beaut" he said. 

Over coffee and cake they discussed Peter. He lived up north and had sadly passed on to his reward. A paratrooper and fireman he was the father of D's wife F. They all had fond recollections of him. 

Then it was down to business.

Rob was mostly on percussion. They played everything from 'She'll be coming round mountain' to Beatles, blues, and Wagon Wheel by the Old Crow Medicine Show.

It rapped up about 4 pm with everyone having had a great time.