It wasn’t the finest specimen of Nelmes that picked up the enormous estate car from the hire company. I was pale, fevered and coughing like a Rottweiler on capstan full strength. I’d been ill for days and I suspect that the physiognomy was showing the strain too. The car hire people were very efficient and in no time I was driving northwards to pick up Julia and her ethnic drum collection. I left my electric guitar at Brennan Villas for want of boot space. The car was a joy and we rolled up to the Priory only about 20 minutes late. The pile of catering supplies was pretty impressive and in the end we had to leave Gareth behind (well something has to give) for Verity to collect.
The journey is something of a Day Nurse haze but with Major calling the shots we found the manor with remarkable ease; pulling in just before sundown. The lady running the place was a little eccentric but we were soon settled in.
The manor has a dilapidated regency charm makes up for the lack of gothic horror. The views over the rolling farmland of west Wales also added light and charm in place of the brooding menace of Maesycrugiau.
The early arrivals (Jackie, Rich, Me, Verity, Julia B, Duncan, J Whippers, Chris and Prior) tucked into a Gareth special mushroom chilli and we got down to some plank spanking. Almost from ‘the off’ the shakey egg proved a favourite. I’ve never really experienced the power of the egg before but it has remarkable rhythmic potential and exerts a powerful influence over the user. We almost had to prise it from Madge’s dead hand by the end of the evening.
Even on this first evening the music was outstripping the first HIM gathering. Duncan wasn’t engaged with the ‘big white telephone’ and Verity and Julia egged each other on considerably on the vocal front.
The strengthening of the cohort continued during a Saturday I spent mainly in bed. Beccy, Nina and a truck load of supplies arrived. Roo and Sue popped up from somewhere and we were quite quorate. I managed to pep myself up sufficiently to drive people into Newcastle Emlyn to procure towels (that is pronounced TaoWells by the way) before popping off for a tactical nap before dinner. Gareth was Chef de Cuisine for the evening and also managed to help me out with the blasted bow tie. Rich and Jackie were doing his bidding and our resident law enforcement officer wafted in and out in a Jeeves piny throughout.
The session was planned around a couple of Neil Young songs but in practice we worked our way through most of the HIM book. To increasingly inebriated cries of ‘make your music’ and ‘bring us your tunes’ Duncan ‘guitar monkey’ Humphrey was whipped mercilessly through most of the popular canon. Chris shook eggs, Whippers and bass apprentice Roo boomed. I thrashed rhythmically and Duncan twiddled without shame. Verity and Julia, who were looking increasingly rock and roll glam, sang, giggled and drank (copiously) as the whole thing reached a crescendo of alcohol fuelled creativity.
When I retired at about 2am it was at the point where Julia and Verity were singing unconnected snippets of unrelated songs at Duncan who kept saying ‘I can’t get it from that’. Believe me; nobody could have got it from that.
When I staggered downstairs at 11am Verity was emerging from the lounge-ballroom still in her evening dress with a tray of glasses. She dropped the lot with a CRASH and a little intoxicated grin. If I’ve seen a greater spectacle of rock n roll decadence I don’t recall it.
Sunday featured the Welsh Slurry Walk. The sun was bright and Roo and Sue led us on a walk over varied and beautiful terrain to a pub with the sign of a hanged man with someone on his shoulders. Some of the countryside was so attractive that we covered it twice – getting slightly lost on some horsey type’s land. Still the old Nelmes charm did the trick and the owner led us to safely away from her randy stallion.
Beccy was Chef de Cuisine and she provided us with what Julia would probably refer to as a Mighty Meaty Bastard of a meal. I don’t think anyone really spoke during dinner and I assume that the heads-down-shovelling was meant as a heart felt sign of appreciation.
Music continued with a full woodwind version of Hey Hey My My and a Bottle Orchestra rendition of In the Bleak Midwinter. I reigned supreme at marbles and the conkers tournament fizzled out in the face of the unrelenting booze.
As the week progressed the numbers dwindled and chairs were drawn closer to the fire. The pace slowed and the incidence of literary discussion increased. I actually enjoy the latter part of the week. We started to fall into a pattern of running in the morning and wiffling the day away on music and reading. Soups and breads, a veggie curry night and a little time to reflect seemed perfectly to meet my requirements before; all too soon, it was time to return to real life
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