So as of last week, Bríd acquired a sister: Ainé. She's a 12" amber coloured goat. I jokingly remarked to my sister that if I manage to come across a drum with a white rim, I can row them up and make a Tri-colour. Up the Republic, indeed. It occurs to me that doing this might be taking things a bit too far.

So. I think Bríd is a bit jealous, but ( Read more... )

That's an odd title for an entry, innit?

Only it's true: the smell of the curing contact cement adhering the neoprene made my head a bit swimmy.

Or in English, Bríd's back home, and I think she'll be alright. She played well tonight, I think. I'm going to mind how I treat her though. I'm still a bit spooked.

So. Here's how it happened: I was in the middle of a gig when a circular patch in my drum's head went slack - never mind that the outer rim of the head surrounding that patch was alarmingly (as in 'take cover, she's going to blow') taut.

I did what any staid and stoic semi pro would do: I panicked. At the break, I raced behind the pub to phone ( Read more... )

... in short spaces of time.

( Drum natter )