When I was a youngster, I nurtured a unrealistic desire to be a musician and belonged to a skiffle group. It was a rather flexible affair and consisted of anything from four to seven or eight depending on the direction of the wind. We had two singers, one sang like Nancy whiskey, and was last heard of (some twenty or thirty years ago) living with an old farmer in Somerset and pickled in Cider, the other actually made a living for a while in the entertainment industry, but not as a performer, even though he managed a quite camp Act that he performed local Workingman's Clubs. For my part, I had a guitar, and could play at least four chords, but unfortunately did not know when or where to use them.
It is a blessing, to the world in general and me in particular, that no photographs exist of our attempt to find fame. If they had, feel that I would have had to expose them to the derision of my colleagues in the wider Bloggery. As they don't exist I feel free to use this pictures I took on one of my sojourns to the North of England.