Many years ago, this band played a wedding for a couple (whose names now escape me but then we have played one or two since). Being a lot younger and brasher and fancying ourselves to be much too cool for what was deemed to be the cheesy end of the market at the time . . . well, we were a little dubious about it.

And our worst fears were realised after about 20 minutes when the first 'Do you do any Abba?' or 'Can you do some Tamla?' requests started to arrive. Not that there's anything wrong with either, of course, but there was only so much four white males, three guitars ( one acoustic) and some drums could induce from the world of popular music without some emergency surgery or heavy help from the costume department.
Finally, the 'can you turn it down a bit – it's a bit too loud for Uncle Len' came in and as we retreated to resounding indifference made a solemn pledge never to bother with weddings again.

And for a few years, that's how it stayed. Until someone eventually just would not take 'no' for an answer and we were dragged back to the wedding stage, so to speak.

This time we arrived on the understanding of our playing what we play. 'We can't suddenly become an all-girl singing troop or an Irish jiggidy-jig ensemble' message was agreed with bride and groom.

The result was it all went very well. So well, in fact, that since then – and on the same understanding - we've had an absolute ball helping couples celebrate their big day and, hopefully, they all feel the same way.

God knows how many there have been. I know that we've been all over the country, from marquees in the back gardens of millionaires – well, when I say back garden I think it was actually called Berkshire – to those gorgeous, tiny little history-dripping rooms in the many, many country homes scattering our land.

In fact, we've just done back-to-back weddings at Nailcote Hall nearby and hope that Joe and Jo and Adam and Amy had a fine old time. (No, there is no discount if the bride and groom are alliteratively linked).

Of course it's a big commitment. This is a one shot chance, the one day in their lives they want to remember forever and, well, you really take that on board.

Which is why even now, several months later, we are still genuinely annoyed and upset at having to cancel one. As has been mentioned before, a bout of illness which laid low bass man Jamie meant that we were unable to fulfil a date with the summer nuptials in Dunchurch of Mr and Mrs Lee White (and our thanks to good pal and fine troubadour Malc Evans and his troop for stepping in at the last moment and I'm sure saving the day).

It's bugged me all year. It really has. So pay attention everyone, this is important.

I don't know if they are around or free or have something booked but we would love to invite the Whites to come as our guests to the Boxing Night gig at The Standard Triumph. In fact, tell you what – any of the lovely, lovely (and you have all been so lovely this year) couples whose weddings we have played and wish to come as well, get in touch with Simon by e-mail or dropping us a message on Facebook. Tickets will be our pleasure. (And Boxing Night is always a cracker).

But the guests of honour will be the Whites and we have something in mind which, I hope, will in some little way make up for the unforgiveable lapse of a cancelled gig.

All the other couples will possibly know the moment I'm talking about. And it's only right the Whites should have that too.

Get in touch guys – and let us make it up to you. Or at least try.

Greetings from Ibiza where the debate rumbles on- is it fantastic or is it phoney?

The question is brought to mind over this weekend as we found ourselves paying a food and drinks bill which could have opened a new hospital wing for essentially eating in a botanical garden in the middle of nowhere otherwise known as Aura, the hot new biscuit of Ibiza's groovy scene. Ibiza has turned this experience into  an art form taking a redundant piece of land, throwing down a slab of decking , fairy lights and reclaimed boat sails and rebranding it with a funky name and charging 6 euros for a beer available for 30 cents in a supermarket down the road. But still we fall for it- and have a great time in the process it must be admitted. It is the dining equivalent of punters paying a 60 euro cover to watch someone plug in their laptop and deliver a night of pre-recorded "tunes" which appears to be the high art otherwise known as "Deejaying".

Ah well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So in the spirit of Ibiza we have decided to make some alterations to our forthcoming gig on bank holiday Saturday August 27th. For a start calling it a Swains night simply isn't good enough. The Party is being renamed "Last of the Summer - but don't whine!" The venue name, The Standard Triumph, simply won't do either. It needs something more dramatic, more evocative.  But as Space, Amnesia, Privilege, Pacha, Ushuaia and Aura have all been taken we've gone for Vedra (in tribute to the mystical rock the dominates our favourite Ibizan beach).

It's all far too much trouble for the band to play live. All that gear, sound checks that take forever, the potential of a fluffed line here, a bum note there. So the entire two hour plus set will be pre-recorded although the band will be "live" on stage and will occasionally raise their arms to punch the air whilst encouraging the crowd to do likewise. This will of course exclude Mickey who will be tied up with turning the big light switch on and off as fast as his arms will allow to create at truly be psychedelic visual experience for all.

We have also decided to "review" the door charge which clearly does not reflect the exclusivity of this banging party. Consequently pre-ordered tickets will be 120 euros but party lovers can pay on the door if they choose (150 euros). Drinks will be reasonably priced at a flat 27 euros each. An exclusive VIP and smoking area lounge will be available in the snooker room where guests are reminded not to stub out cigarettes on the specially imported Peruvian decking.

A Pre-party set will be provided at "Galleria" (formerly Millsy's) and an after show set of chill out tunes by deejay W.A.Y.N.E at a secret location.

Of course none of this may be true. The Swains will be playing live, it will be £6 to get in, it will go on at the Standard Triumph Club, and Mickey will be far too busy fiddling with his organ to worry about the lights. But do you know something?We think you'll probably have an even better night..see you there,

Martin and Jamie, Live, Cafe Can Llorenc, St, Josep, Ibiza

Now our drummer, like so many other drummers,  is a clever so-and-so. He can bang the kick drum, smack the snare, thrash the toms, all at different times and, wonder of wonders, sing while all that noise is going on.

Which therefore makes you marvel at his inability to write down correctly 11 digits. Not Mandarin, Croatian or Russian digits, mind. English. His mother tongue. Really complicated stuff like, er, 1, 2, or maybe a 6 or a 9.

But write them down wrongly he did when it came to drawing up the posters for our next public gig at the Standard Triumph.
So, lest there be any confusion, here are the four definites to emerge from this particular story:

1. The telephone number for the Standard club where the gig will be staged on Bank Holiday Saturday of August 27 is 02476 675186. That’s 02476 675186.
2. It will be a splendid night
3. All drummers, once removed from their drum kits, are stupid 
4. Our's will be made to sing "Common People" as a result. It's in 4-4 and if we tell him now he can start practising to count it in ( "I-2-3-9 . . . no damn it, let me try again . . . 1-4-7-5 . . . these digits, they're so confusiing".)

Thank you for your understanding in this matter. Remember, it's 02476 675186.

Martin

Anyone been down to Brighton lately? It’s bloody brilliant isn’t it? I was joined by the rhythm section – if Jamie and Simon (or Howard and Hilda as I like to call them) spend more than a day apart they go all out of ‘snyc’ – for a visit to celebrate the Sixth Swain’s birthday the other week.

Stopping at a B&B called Strawberry Fields – well, who wouldn’t stop at a B&B called Strawberry Fields? – we had a thumpingly fantastic couple of days of waistcoats, mod gear, tonic suits, authentic Sixties ‘disco’  at The Dorset and the finest Indian food in the world at the Chilli Pickle before heading home.

There was added cause for consultation with Swain Jnr. I mention he is the “sixth Swain” in that occasionally our lead guitarist Pete is called away. He says it is to go ski-ing although we have long suspected he is embroiled in a secret government project it to remove some ice off  the polar cap with one of his guitar solos.

On those occasions, up steps Paulie to take on the duties which, in a two hour-plus, 30 song-plus set is no easy matter and for which his old man is immensely proud.

And this will be happening again at The Cottage on Good Friday, April 22. It will be, I hope, an immense night during which I trust all the Swainees out there will throw their love and support behind “me boy.” It also means you will get to hear “Yellow” because, well,  because he plays the bollocks out of it.

See you there!