We have become groupies, that is if you can be groupies at our age or is that a preserve of the young. But never-the-less we have just been to our second gig in a month of the Doghouse Skiffle Group(DSG).





For anyone less than retirement age Skiffle is a type of music genre that existed before genres were invented, starting around the mid fifties and driven by Lonnie Donnegan. The musical requirements are simple, a guitar, a washboard and a tea chest bass and that is the set up for the Doghouse Skiffle Group as you can see.


Absolutely brilliant three and a half hours of hand clapping, foot stamping, singing along and laughing and that’s just Christine. Mind you the rest of us enjoyed it as well. And how skiffle turned into Bohemian Rhapsody or Bits and Pieces is as surprising as is why the audience sang Living Doll right through after three notes on the guitar.


They must be on their 2006 European Tour filling such world renown theatres as The South Dalton village hall as well as the village hall at Cherry Burton which just happen to be the two venues we caught them at. If they visit your area make the effort they are very good, in fact as they say quite often “the more you drink the better we get”.


That’s all well and good but what I really wanted to talk about was the compares, the local guy who runs the village hall and organises the concerts and gives up loads of his time so that we can enjoy ourselves. He is an essential in village life, without him these events would not take place but why then does he suddenly want to become part of the show spending more time on the microphone than the group.


He’s up there recapping previous events, the last do probably had ten people and a dog, now it’s a sell out waiting for the DSG, no ones interested get the group on.


Future events next, who cares unless it’s the DSG we wont be here, get the group on.


Next it’s health and safety, where are the fire exits, these are small village halls the fire exit is probably under the sign that says ‘fire exit’, get the group on.


Hold it there is a problem, there is not a clear path to the fire door, someone has put a table in the way and unfortunately it’s us.


We now have to lose the table which at this point is covered with bottles of beers and wine as well as crisps, nuts the odd bar of chocolate, maybe a couple of sausage rolls mine of course as this was a bring your own refreshments do. So eight of us are now tripping over each other trying to dismantle the table and get it out the room which seems to be causing more chaos than a fire could ever do. Christine gets a table leg straight on top of her new Jaeger sandals for which someone will suffer, probably me. Gwen can’t help for laughing and Pat normally very practical carries on drinking his pint and goes out for a smoke. But finally the table is out and we all still sit around as if the table was there with our glasses and bottles on the floor in the middle of us ready to be kicked over and broken but that appears not to be an issue. Get the group on.


Not yet, we need to be told where the toilets are, again there is a sign that says ‘Toilets’ maybe this is a clue. So now we are ready the organiser announces the group, no not the DSG, a warm up singer.


He leaves the stage reluctantly handing the mike to the singer and sits in front of the door marked fire exit. Is it me, have I missed something.


Warm up singers. Now I have nothing against warm up singers or anyone trying to entertain us I know it’s not easy. I also appreciate that they are all singer songwriters and they want to sing their own songs but we are not here for culture all we are here for is to sing along with the DSG so maybe a song that we all know might not go amiss. But who am I to suggest I know better, I’m just the paying public or am I back to being Victor Meldrew again. Get the group on.


But then they are on, the DSG and Warbash Cannonball, Midnight Special, Tom Dooley and dozens of other songs that suddenly come back to you. It’s amazing I cannot remember what I was doing last week yet I know every word to every song (maybe a very slight exaggeration) although it’s probably fifty years since I last heard some of them. But just to show that it's not just me I bet if I said 'in 1814 we took a little trip' every one of pensionable age can tell me the next line.


It’s midnight and they have just finished, Christine is two hours past her bedtime, her hands ache from clapping and she has a sore throat from singing and I am not sure her new Jaeger sandals have stood up very well to the foot stomping not to mention the table leg but she is still smiling having enjoyed another great night with the Doghouse Skiffle Group. Must see where they are on next.