Jen and I had spent the week in Barnoldswick, primarily so that we could see a couple of shows from a Mott the Hoople tribute band. I know. I rarely bother with tribute acts other than when Sea Power do their Modern Ovens homage to Jonathan Richman, but I’m coming to terms with the fact that if I want to see certain songs played live, then it isn’t going to be by the original artists anymore. Nobody complains that Bach isn’t present in person at Last Night of the Proms, so maybe I’ve been unfairly maligning tribute bands over the years.
This band had Zak Starkey on drums and a guitarist called Bucket who has stood in for and played with Mick Ralphs at Bad Company. Tributes tend to stand or fall on the quality of the frontman though and Johnny Barracuda of the Soho Dukes captured the essence and voice of Ian Hunter well enough for it to work out ok.
The venue only holds sixty, so it’s unlikely that anyone was making much money from the shows, but they looked as if they were enjoying it. Perhaps they will try and tour it in bigger venues.
On a different evening we went back to the same venue to see a couple of folk singers. I’m ok with folk if it’s the kind of folk that Withered Hand or Boo Hewerdine does. This was more traditional with most of the non-original songs being about yonder maidens in the morn and such like. The two singers were undoubtedly talented, but I found it all a bit ‘hey nonny nonny’.
I’d planned to take in a game on the Wednesday night but it was just too cold for me to be outside. That meant Saturday provided my first option with a tenth tier North West Counties League Division One North fixture at nearby Colne.
It was seven quid in at the Holt House Ground. There was covered seating down one side and covered standing behind the goal at the top of the sloped hill. A few picnic tables provided options for days when the weather was nicer. A cabin was selling Haffner’s Pies, which are presumably well-known in these parts. I tried one, but it wasn’t as good as the ones I’d been getting from a shop in Barnoldswick that sells out its entire stock by around midday.
Woolton had the advantage of kicking down the slope in the first half and made the most of it, going in three up at the break. It reminded me of playing for Freddy Natt juniors and our belief that if we were kicking uphill in the first half and could keep the deficit to two goals at half-time, then we were likely to come out on top by the end. I’ve no idea how often those circumstances ever occurred, but it’s the sort of nonsense that ten-year-olds trotted out as gospel in those days.
Maybe the Colne players had a similar belief as they came out fully fired up. They scored twice in the first three minutes and had another effort disallowed soon after. The momentum was certainly with them in a game that Woolton probably thought had been already won.
Colne had to wait until the eighty-seventh minute for the elusive third goal. It came after a visiting player was dismissed for a second yellow. The miscreant had barely reached the dressing room before the resulting free kick was floated into the box and scrambled home.
The hosts pressed for a winner, but the ten men held on for a point that seemed fair to me.
Trail of the Lion King 