I forgot to mention - the time I went to the Cross Road (it's a railway as anal bluesists will know; odd how there's never any canal cross roads?). Anyway, some guy was sat crying over his guitar. As I got near, I saw it was my old adversary-come-mate Frank White. We had a love-hate understanding ever since he gave me a slot in his show - I didn't blow my amp up on purpose but it worked magic. I digress. I sat in the gutter and asked what was wrong. "I met him" said Frank. You mean, himself, I asked. "Yep" he replied "and he spoke to me". What'd he say, I queried all agog eyes. "He said, are you Alex Oliver?"
Funny how sometimes one comes to the end of a reading too soon.
I forgot to mention - the time I went to the Cross Road (it's a railway as anal bluesists will know; odd how there's never any canal cross roads?). Anyway, some guy was sat crying over his guitar. As I got near, I saw it was my old adversary-come-mate Frank White. We had a love-hate understanding ever since he gave me a slot in his show - I didn't blow my amp up on purpose but it worked magic. I digress. I sat in the gutter and asked what was wrong. "I met him" said Frank. You mean, himself, I asked. "Yep" he replied "and he spoke to me". What'd he say, I queried all agog eyes. "He said, are you Alex Oliver?"