We’re baaaaaaack! And what a night it was to kick it all back off for us. With the naff raffle (naffle) - Raising the Rafters really is a home from home for us. If you look very carefully in the background of some of our videos filmed in The Nook, you may spot a pink, plastic, light up flamingo: that was won courtesy of the last naffle over 18 months ago! This time around we won again. Most people would cry ‘it’s a fix!’ But most just breathed a sigh of relief that they weren’t going home with a slimy slug (actual naffle prize) or a Charles and Di mug (with complementary photo of Charles and Camilla, for longevities sake). This time round we actually bagged a not so naffle prize of an excellent memoir of Whitby Folk Week written by Gordon Tyrrall.
The nerves soon set in as we wondered what post-COVID gigs looked and felt like. Turns out, in this case, blummin’ lovely. We got to have a lovely natter with friends we have never met and discuss music with those we had.
Number one fan (Mum, AKA The Jude) soon made a phone call to the lead singer.
‘Where the buggery chuff am I?’
‘I don’t know, Mum, but we’re at the church.’
‘I’m at the Church!’
‘Which Church?’
‘St Nicholas.’
‘That’s Santa, there is no St Nick Church in Wath, it’s St James - Ironically the patron saint of the lost.’
‘Really?’
‘No. He is actually the Patron Saint of Spain - can you hear maracas?’
The Jude did arrive eventually.
‘It took ages, sorry, I was startled by a strange man who started asking me who I was and why I was there.’
‘Ah! No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.’
We had to follow some very talented floor spots and Dean very nervously lent over and quietly whispered in my ear ‘I don’t remember any chords.’ To which my reply was ‘Just try and remember the three we use’.
After losing my voice to COVID, the thought of singing unplugged for an hour was harrowing to say the least, but adrenaline seemed to pull us through, and we were finally back in that place where the world just melted away and it was just us and a load of lovely folk, listening and playing some music, together.
For any that are apprehensive about getting back out there, I would recommend you start at Raising the Rafters, it’s well spaced out, you bring your own beverages and you have the added bonus of raising money for charity and knowing that, in your small part, have made a difference.
So maybe we forgot some chords, some keys, some words, what year it was, our names, to go to the toilet before we set off, or even where this sentence was going. We even forgot the between songs banter.
‘Dean, tell them a joke while I get the mandolin.’
‘Errr, er, does anyone like Nicholas Cage?’’
*The Jude gets PTSDesque flash backs of the non-existent St Nick church, three ladies in the front row proceed to have a half an hour chat with Dean about their favourite Nick Cage films. Help.*
Macmillan, as always, set up a lovely stall and had lots of chats about the services they offer. It costs about £29,000 for them to place a nurse community worker in Rotherham and they are funded entirely by charity. We were very happy to find out after from Andrew that with the raffle, the £5 a ticket, and the donation buckets (minus £15 to keep a roof over the rafters ) the night raised an amazing £279 for the Rotherham branch of Macmillan.
We love that the donation bucket had £79 in it. Those kind of odd numbers always raise questions - did someone cut the corner off a tenner? Drop in 10 Euros and with the current exchange rate Macmillan very kindly worked it out for us? Did a dad just empty out that back jean’s pocket that all dads seem to have that is just full of random change, and if they’re lucky, a stick of gum? Did someone drop in a fiver and then realise they needed a quid for the locker because they were going swimming tomorrow? Wild.
P.S. Turns out - if you stick some soft felt pads under a stomp tambourine (that you made from some spare wood and a scaffold board) you can very nearly do the splits, mid-song, as it slowly slides further and further away.
Thank you all so much for one of the best nights ever! We love you all, Kootchies