Aye, Alan, the Woodstock breeks, shirt, & clogs belong thegither, I'll gie ye that. But ne'er on a waxwork Alvin in Mme. Tussaud's hoose o' horrors! That'd gie me the willies, mon, wi'oot ony doobt! Luv'n'stuff, a Semi-Gourlay Grrl in the Colonies ;-)
Been to a few HRC places around the world.
Always look for Alvin material.
Always blank.
Mabye the closest you can get was me getting his red coloured stage towel from Glasgow,Scotland show few years ago.
Show finished and just took a chance!
Had it on my golf bag up until 2 years ago.
Lost the lot in a fire.
Anyway as long as the Positive Vibrations keep coming.
This is the most important thing.
I'm sorry you lost Alvin's red towel in a fire, Richard! But... I've got a white stage towel of his in the case of my favorite guitar. :-)
Our Jane got Alvin's towel when we were in Paris, courtesy of Pieter, he stole it - I saw him - I have witnesses, yes of course I'll testify, when do you want me to attend officer?
LOL! Well, I didn't steal mine. ;-)
Some of those waxworks are a tad creepy I'll admit Laurie, but to my mind it would the lesser of two evils.
- and yes I remember you're blessed with Gourlay genes, that's GOUR-lay, and not gour-LAY.
Creepy doesn't begin to cover it, Alan! Sorry, wax dummies are one of my bugaboos, heh. When I was a wee babby in the early '50s, my parents left me with a sitter and went to the movies to see Vincent Price (that's ab Rhys, of course) in "House of Wax", the first 3-D flick. They had special "glasses" and everything. Wowee. Later on, when my little bro Robbie and I were kiddies, Dad used to make a funny-scary face to make us laugh with his cheeks sucked in, his mouth pursed, and his eyes crossed, called the "House of Wax" face. We always scream-giggled with delight, or at least emitted a stray semi-shriek or two. I know, it's a silly reason not to want to see Alvin as a wax dummy. So I'm a compulsive anecdotalist! Or anecdotist, I forget which. The REAL reason is, wax dummies just plain give me the creeps, Vincent Price or no Vincent Price. They look dead, or kinda like over-sized Chucky dolls, tee hee. And don't worry, I do know it's GOUR-lay. Kinda like Gurley, only spelled different. One of my dad's bros always said Gour-LAY, cringe, when referring to the name, but you can bet ole Aquarius Know-It-All me set him straight, heh heh. It was the maiden name of my dad's dad's mum, born in Edinburgh. She married an Englishman, my dad's dad's dad, natch, who, when they came over here, ended up as a restorer of paintings at the Metropolitan Art Museum in NYC. Groovy, huh. By the way, there were documentably two, count 'em, two of the American Gourlays in the cast of the play at Ford's Theatre in DC the night Pres. Lincoln was shot! One just never knows where Gourlays and their kin'll end up, eh? ;-)
Steve the sound engineer gave me the towel after a french stage hand refused my request. He trew me the towel when i told him it was for Jane. The towel was lying near the drum platform. How could i reach that Alan ???
please considder you alligation my friend..
Aw, Pieter, I'm pretty sure Alan was teasing you! ;-)
please considder you alligation my friend..thank you always pieter....
i still have it...in a safe place
and when i hold it
i think of that wonderful time in paris
alvin in olympia....
with lovely friends and eric...
red coat and all....
lots of love
jane
xxxxx
Allegation??? Allegation????
That's a bit strong!!!!!
Of course you were handed it, the stage was too high for you to reach, and like the gentleman you are you passed it to Jane.
Back in your box, Alan.
Thanks ..No problem Alan . Soon when there is a concert in the UK ill buy you your favorite J.D.C on the rocks and we have fun and Rock and Roll my dear friend .No box for you ..
Wagstaff has a large piece of the Woodstock watermelon in a bottle full of rather ominous looking liquid. He claims it is Alvin's Woodstock Watermelon Rind Wine and he is saving it for a special occasion. Personally, I wouldn't drink it on a dsre or a bet
A desiccated piece of Alvin's Woodstock watermelon rind, oddly fashioned in the shape of a guitar pick (sort of), has made its way to the Midwest, and is now an object of reverence at the Annual Watermelon Days of Stanhope, Iowa...lovingly ensconced on a big red guitar-shaped platter in the old gazebo of the town park. A loudspeaker blasts "I'm Going Home" continuously until all attendees do, in fact, go home. :-)
