Little Drummer Boy...

Parrumpa-pum-pum... A newborn gift... Oh you are so lucky that you cannot hear me. It was one of the first singles bought by my parents who in their modern way were moving away from the stack of 78s they had amassed.
But this weekend... Well, frankly, I wasn't, when it came down to it, as keen on the idea as I had been when my dearest husband booked way back in September. Firstly, I still am encumbered by untrendy surgical boot which ridicules any attempt to look half way decent in an evening outfit and when dressed-down I simply look like an escapee from A&E. Dearest had got us tickets for Ronnie Scott's Jazz club in London. I've always wanted to go but when I learnt that the doors opened at 10.30pm I quailed inwardly at the prospect of having to stay out SO LATE.
So I had to quell inner turbulence with liquor and good company. Indeed, I  found myself quite fortified by our arrival at 10.45, a time that normally finds my good god-fearing self curled up in a duvet.
Ray Gelato and the Giants were playing. Oh, my kind of music. Brought up, as I was, on bands  and crooners I could almost smell the brown paper covers of those 78s.
It was an hour and a half of sheer pleasure. But for me the surprise of the evening was a young lad, Ed Richardson, whose drum solo was a virtuoso performance.
Forget the parrumpa pum pums and see if you can find him on Youtube. Prepare to be amazed.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhw1rtjq33U