The sun has packed and gone away
And tempests toss the restless waves

So who thought it would be a nice idea to pop up the coast to Bridlington then Eh? On a Sunday in November? Once again the logic-defying processes of the Blyth Junta hurled our gallant few into a freezing windswept confrontation with the North Sea, while honest folks were safe at home in bed. All except the goths mind you, who take great delight in haunting the North Yorkshire coast in all kinds of unfriendly weather.
As with most of TDL's plans, it seemed a good idea at the time, and the prospect of getting paid on a Sunday was too good to miss. Perversely we stayed at home on the Friday and Saturday, but as The Loop in Bridlington is one of those establishments is one of those late-licenced establishments that caters for passing tourists, it made sense to go and scare them.
Imagine the collective surprise when the band ended up playing to an audience that was reminiscent of an ornithologist's outing to The Loft in Hollyoaks. Make of that what you will, but do come next time, as it will be June, and a much nicer time of the year to be beside the seaside.
The following night, Monday 11th, was a date at The New Roscoe in Leeds that had been added at extremely short notice to help Mr Keenan out with a cancellation. Naturally most honest folk were out selling poppies, so a quiet night was anticipated, which all things considered was pretty much what happened. Still, two lengthy sets ensured that those present had ample opportunity for Mr Porter's endless reminiscenses of the time his elder brother wet himself in Castle Cary church after an Armistice Day parade.

Not content with going to Bridlington in the bleak midwinter, the power's that be had decided to compound things and send the band to Doncaster on the following Friday, for a one-off in that town where winter actually comes three times a year, and where the locomotive sheds are off-limits even to train drivers. The legendary inexplicable fastness of Doncaster Carr is invariably a topic of conversation when Blyth come to town, and tonight was no exception. Chief among the collective memories of this night's work - at The Leopard of course - was the nasty fire escape up which the equipment has to be lugged. There was a fine disco, though, and TDL salvaged yet another pair of knackered drumsticks from under the stage. There were some noble and magnificent people present that night.

You will note that this episode is unfolding in a series of short sharp paragraphs. This is deliberately designed to give an actual impression of how events actually happened, and is in fact a cunning literary device. November and December consisted of a series of one-offs up and down the land, as opposed to the customary long weekends away. Thus we come to Thursday 21st November, which found our heroes meeting in London for a night out at The Verge in Kentish Town.

Here's another short sharp paragraph, just to emphasise the effect.

Good stuff eh? I bet you're all on the edge of your seats wondering how things worked out. Well, to understand the way events turned out today you have to realise that Nimbus, the old Roman god of meandering, has two dice, both with thirty faces (don't quibble. He's an immortal and can have as many as he wants). One of these numbers the days of the month, and the other has the names of thirty random towns upon it. Thus when Nimbus threw 21 with one dice, and London with the other, Blyth's date with the capital was set.
Ordinarily this would have been enough mischeif for one day, but being an old stoner, Nimbus forgot he'd thrown the second dice, and so he threw again. This time he threw Reading. And so it was ordained. Blyth Power would play in London in the evening, but in the afternoon, at approximately the time the OBCs are normally filing into this office to do a desultory half a day's work, Mr Porter would deliver a lecture on songwriting to a class of students at Reading College of Music.
Naturally this neccessitated the kind of horribly early start that in the bygone days of yore had seen previous line-ups of the band load Neil Keenan into the van still in his sleepng bag, or others idling for two hours waiting for Jamie Hince to remember that he actually had a gig that day. TDL doesn't normally make it to the corner shop before 13.30, so the idea that he could actually be in Reading by that early hour owes thanks only to Annie, who drove, and of course to Nimbus, whose bloody fool idea it was in the first place.
And of course to Matt, who very kindly arranged for him to come and speak. Office juniors here have found him unbearable ever since he delivered this lecture, and he makes them call him Dr, Porter now.
After this ground breaking hour and a half of guff and hot air was permitted to blight the careers of several young songwriters, it was on to London Town in the hire van, where the Verge was serenaded by Daddy Those Men Scare Me and Giga-0, both of which bands will be appearing at Tallington in July, and both of whom we reccomend wholeheartedly.
Thanks on this occasion are due to Matt again, who brought a field trip up from Reading College to throw buns at the aged dwarf who had been haranguing them in the afternoon.Also to Antoni, one of the fabled 'Greek Planespotters' who held TDL mesmerised with his experiences all night, and prevented him from dropping any PR clangers to prospective customers at the CD stall.

Episode Twenty