FOSSILS FLIP BOOK

FOSSILS
Viagra, Snuff and Rock’n’roll
Robert A Webster
Copyright © 2013 Robert A Webster
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STORMWRITER

-Prologue-
Great Britain is in the throes of a musical evolution. A new and
exciting band emerges with a unique brand of music that captures
the hearts and imaginations of the nation.
Although it has been only weeks since the pop sensations burst onto
the music scene, they swept through the airwaves with a fresh sound
that attracted old and young listeners alike. Already dubbed the new
Beatles, they are taking the music world by storm and putting
British music back on the map. The media name their unique sound
tenor-rock, and everyone knows the band as...Fossils.
Fossils had won a national competition several weeks earlier,
bringing them to the attention of a major broadcasting company that
propelled them into the nation’s spotlight.
Their successful debut album, 'HOPE,' makes a refreshing change
from the usual chart-topping humdrum. The media hyped up the
band, giving the British population a focus in these dismal days.
The country becomes gripped in Fossils fever.
There is, however, one problem; the Fossils have never been seen
and, apart from their manager, nobody knows anything about the
reclusive four-man band. However, he has no intention of revealing
anything about them.
This adds to the band’s allure, with the press playing off of the
elusiveness and offering rewards for information.
Fossil’s sound is distinctive, ranging from soft ballads to thumping
rock songs. They perform ballads with melodic haunting sounds,

and play their rock numbers with gusto, making them the total
package. The lead vocalist has a strange, yet unique voice, with
perfect pitch and tone. Their mature sound leads many to believe
this is an older band, but the media assures the nation that they are a
young vibrant pop group.
Fossil's success surpasses everybody's expectations. The record
company gives out enough information to keep the country’s
interest, but never divulges too much about the band, because they
themselves know very little.
Rumours and speculation abounds for several days about the band
making an appearance. Finally, the media announces that a press
conference is to be held.
On the day of the broadcast, everyone is glued to their radios and
televisions; the nation eagerly waits for the conference to begin.
* In Appendix

-Track One-
Several months earlier
It was a warm summer afternoon. A removal van arrived and
unloaded a Steinway Parlour grand piano into the recreation room.
Throughout the day, the elderly residents came and admired the
piano, inquisitive about who was due to move into Albert’s old
room. Three in particular were excited by the arrival of this fine
instrument, and couldn’t wait to meet its owner.
The following day, a BMW came up the driveway. A middle-aged
couple got out, accompanying a slender, well-groomed elderly man.
They went into the residence, and then along to the warden's office.
The curtains twitched as the excited old folks looked at their new
neighbour.
John and Lorraine spent an hour with Mrs. Chew, the warden, while
she explained the rules and regulations to Charles. Charles paid
scant attention, as his mind was wandering elsewhere.
Mrs. Chew took the small group to a room on the ground floor,
already laid out with Charles's belongings: his old armchair, and
other small mementos. Mrs.Chew then advised that John and
Lorraine leave him to settle in. They said their farewells and left
Charles deep in thought, staring out of the window at immaculately
manicured lawns. His room smelled like the rest of the place. For
Charles it wasn’t a homely aroma; it was the eggy, musty smell,
usually associated with old people’s homes. His thoughts wandered
back in time, and he reflected on his memories.
****

Charles reminisced about his childhood, and growing up around the
entertainment business. His mother was an opera singer and he'd
acquired a love for the piano at an early age. His father,
disappointed by his son’s chosen interest, had expected him to
follow him into the military.
Charles was ten when his father died, but he and his mother were
well provided for. Charles pursued a music career and, although he
loved the piano, his true passion was singing. He had a perfect tenor
pitch, but unfortunately deformed vocal chords that were untreatable
at the time. This condition gave his voice a gravelly sound,
unsuitable for opera or any other classical music. The Liverpool
Philharmonic Orchestra employed him as a pianist after he left
university.
Charles was twenty-two when he first met Mary. She auditioned for
a violinist position in the orchestra and, though she did not have any
academic musical qualifications, she was a natural violin player.
He'd noticed the pretty, young blonde as she played Paganini's
Caprice No.24 in A minor. He could tell that Joseph Fletcher, the
orchestra leader, was impressed and with slight prompting, he
employed Mary. Charles chased Mary from day one, and after a
short courtship, they married.
Mary hailed from Cleethorpes, where they decided to buy property
for their future together. They chose a piece of land on the outskirts
of the seaside town and had a large five-bedroom house built.
Charles got his big break and was offered a position in the
prestigious London Philharmonic Orchestra. Realising Charles
would be touring a great deal. Mary decided to leave the Liverpool
Philharmonic and tour with him. However, she became pregnant
shortly after their first tour, and had their first child, John.

Charles spent the next few years touring alone, while Mary
remained at their Cleethorpes home. She gave birth to two more
children, first Lorraine and then, a year later, Peter.
The years passed and Charles was constantly away on tour. He and
Mary decided that, although the money that he earned kept the
family comfortable, Charles did not want to be like his father and
miss his children’s important years, so he got a job at Cleethorpes
Grammar School teaching music.
He remained there for many years, until he decided it was time to
retire. He and Mary planned to live the rest of their lives together,
watching their family grow in the tranquillity of their home.
Their children had families of their own and life was idyllic for
Charles and Mary. They would spend their days either in each
other’s company, or with family members. The evenings were spent
with Charles playing his piano and Mary on her violin. They led a
serene and happy life, until the scourge of leukaemia took Mary.
Charles’s world fell apart.
****
Mrs. Chew knocked on the door, interrupting Charles’s thoughts.
She informed him that the afternoon meal would be ready at 6pm.
Charles didn’t feel hungry, so he ignored her, relaxed back into his
chair, and recalled the events of the past few days.
****
It was a warm summer’s day in the Lincolnshire countryside.
Charles sat in the front row of the crematorium’s small chapel,
surrounded by his children, grandchildren, other family members,
and friends. There was silence as the coffin slowly moved down the

conveyor into the furnace. The vicar gave his sermon for the safe
journey for Mary’s soul, and then it was over.
Charles was devastated and, although surrounded by his loving
family, felt alone.
During the wake at Charles’s house, John put his arm around his
father and said, “Dad, remember what Mum told you about what
you should do when this day came?”
Charles looked at his son and replied.
“Not now John. Let me just grieve for your mother before we
discuss anything.”
John sighed and went over to talk to his sister; he wanted to get the
subject of his father’s relocation out of the way, so they could get
the family house on the market and sold.
Lorraine, John, and Peter, along with Mary, had arranged for
Charles to move into Fossdyke residential home in Cleethorpes as
soon as Mary passed away. They'd organised for Charles’s piano to
be allowed into the home, so he would feel comfortable. The family
organised everything without involving Charles, who, although
angry, said nothing, as he didn’t want to accept the inevitable.
After Mary's wake, the families and friends left Charles's house.
Lorraine offered to stay with him, but he declined. The families
arranged to come around the next morning to help him move.
Charles felt numb, confused, and angry with his children for their
rush to dump him into an old folks' home. He poured himself a
whisky and went over to his old Steinway. Slamming the whisky
glass down on top of the piano, he lifted the lid and started to play

tunes that brought back fond memories of him and Mary. He
recalled Mary's last words.
“Life is too short to be sad.”
With that thought in mind, Charles drank whisky and played
vigorously, until he dozed off into a drunken stupor, slumped over
his piano.
John arrived mid-morning and went over to his father. Noticing the
empty whisky bottle and knocked over glass, he shook his father
awake and said,
“I’ll make a cup of tea, Dad. Why don’t you go to bed and I will
bring one up for you.”
Charles got unsteadily to his feet, went upstairs, and got into bed,
where he remained for the rest of the day. Family members turned
up throughout the day to help with the move. With only a few
personal items allowed into the residential home, the rest of Charles
and Mary’s belongings and furniture were sold, with the proceeds
divided among the families. While a removal company took his
piano and cleared the house, Charles remained in his bedroom.
Several hours later, the house was bare apart from Charles's
bedroom furniture. Lorraine’s family brought food for Charles
throughout the day, and offered to stay the night on a camp bed.
Charles refused, and that night again drank himself into a stupor,
gazing around his empty home and wanting desperately to join his
beloved Mary.
John and Lorraine arrive the following morning to take Charles to
the residential home. They led him out of the house and got into
John’s car, for the forty-minute drive to the seaside and his new
residence.

****
Another knock on the door disturbed Charles's thoughts, bringing
him back to reality. Assuming that it was Mrs.Chew again, he
ignored it. A small rotund man, who was as bald as a bell end, then
walked in.
“Charlie boy!” Shouted the jovial geriatric in his gruff voice, and
with a cheery grin he went over to Charles. “I’m Steve. It’s nice to
meet you. Chewy told us you were coming. Come on mate, let's go
eat, and I'll introduce you to everyone.”
“I’m not hungry, but thanks anyway.” Charles said, forcing a smile.
“Come on, just try some. The scran isn’t too bad, and tonight it’s
BBQ rib night, a real treat,” insisted Steve as he put his arm around
Charles shoulder to coax him. He chuckled and joked, "I've been an
inmate here for five years. I'm well known in most of the pubs in the
area."
Charles looked at this comical seventy-year-old, whom he thought
resembled a weeble toy. He quickly realised he was persistent and
would not take no for an answer.
The pair made their way into the dining hall, and Steve led Charles
to two empty seats between other elderly gentlemen.

-Track Two-
Within picturesque grounds on the southern end of the coastal town
of Cleethorpes, Fossdyke Residential Home was built near a large,
shallow, man-made, boating lake with two small islands at its
centre. These served as a sanctuary for the colourful bird
populations inhabiting the area; it was an idyllic, tranquil location.
The residence was modern, and had been recently converted from a
guesthouse into a residential home by the current owners. The main
residence was a two-story-building, with twenty-three single
bedroom units. These studio apartments, four by seven metres in
size, all had en-suite W.C's. The resident would provide their own
furniture and a warden lived permanently on site.
Two other buildings were single story. One was a kitchen and
communal dining area, which provided meals three times a day. The
other served as a recreation room, where the residents could
congregate, organise activities, and watch TV. This communal room
also contained several smaller rooms, where residents could keep
larger personal belongings locked away.
With little happening at the home during the summer months, the
old folks would either stroll along the beach, or relax in the gardens.
It was a serene simple existence, and the residents varied. There
were several married couples, but it was mainly elderly single men
and women; whose relatives had put in the home because they felt
that they couldn’t take care of themselves.
****

The dining room was full of chatter and clatter as the kitchen staff
served the residents BBQ ribs and drinks. Although some struggled
to gnaw through the pork with their false gnashers, it didn’t stop
them from giving the meat a damn good sucking.
Charles sat and surveyed the room and those who were to become
be his new neighbours.
“Charlie, meet Wayne,” said Steve as he sat back and a man leant
over and shook his hand.
Wayne appeared to be a Latino gentleman, with black curly hair and
a boyish demeanour.
“Hi Charlie, I’m Wayne Logan,” he said as he shook Charles’s
hand.
“It’s Charles, not Charlie,” said Charles.
“What?” Wayne asked.
“I said, it’s Charles not Charlie,” repeated Charles, louder.
“What?” Wayne asked again and then said, “I still have all my own
teeth.”
Steve chuckled and said, “He is as deaf as a post, and dyes his hair
black.”
“What?” Wayne repeated as he turned up the volume on his
hearing-aid.
“‘Állo Charles," said the man to his left in a chirpy cockney accent.
“I’m Elvin Stanley, but they call me ‘Chippers’”

Charles introduced himself. He noticed that Elvin had some fingers
missing as he shook his hand. Charles felt uneasy and tried not to
stare. Steve interrupted and told him that he could meet the others
later, but for now, he had met the three friends who would become
the most important part of his new life.
“After we’ve finished eating, we can go along to the recreation
room and see what you can do on the old piano,” announced Steve.
Charles felt a little better as he chomped away on his ribs and
chatted to Steve, Wayne, and Elvin. Steve pointed out several other
individual residents and relayed some of their weird and wonderful
foibles. Such as ‘Andrex’ Ethel, who walked around with toilet
paper sticking out of her knickers and ‘boring Bill’, who people
tended to avoid, as all he ever talked about was pigeons.
Charles was eager to go to see his piano, so after they’d finished
eating, the four went to the recreation room and over to his
Steinway.
“What can you play?” Steve asked.
Charles sat down on the stool, lifted the lid, and started playing the
Sergei Taneyev concerto in E flat.
Several other residents made their way over to the recreation room,
which was usually noisy as they chatted and played games or
watched TV. There was silence. They listened intently as Charles
became engrossed in his music.
Charles finished playing and stared at the piano keys, reminiscing
over the tune, which was one of his and Mary’s favourites. He
languished in his own world, while the recreation room remained
silent. After several minutes, the residents started to applaud. The
room now had a dozen people who'd come to hear him play.

However, his three new friends didn’t appear impressed. Mabel, a
sprightly eighty-two-year-old, started to sing ‘Lily of the
Lamplight’ to herself and anyone who would listen.
Steve then asked,
“Do you know any rock ‘n’ roll?”
Charles looked at the three.
“No, sorry. I only know classical and opera.”
Steve, Wayne, and Elvin looked disappointed and started to talk
amongst themselves. Charles again tinkled on the piano keys and
started to play a short Mozart piece, but stopped when Mabel
interrupted him. She barraged him with requests, so he played
‘White Cliffs of Dover’ with Mabel happily shrieking along.
The three friends finished their discussion among themselves. Steve
put his hand on Charles’s shoulder and, with a mischievous grin,
and through Mabel’s toneless warbles said,
“Don’t worry, Charlie boy, me and the lads still have high hopes for
you.”
Steve, Elvin, and Wayne went over to a room, unlocked the door,
and went inside. Charles watched them, bemused, as he continued
to try to match chords with Mabel’s screeching.
The three emerged from the room several minutes later. First Steve,
who carried a beaten up guitar and a small Marshall speaker/amp,
then Elvin, who held a large double bass, along with a microphone
stand and various wires, and finally Wayne, with a round black box
that containing a snare drum and brass cymbals; part of his Mapex
drum kit.

The crowd within the recreation room saw the trio and a look of
horror came across their faces. They'd seen this before and, to the
poor old folk, it meant the return of terrifying torture, which they
hoped had been firmly locked away in the past. However, with the
arrival of Charles, it appeared to have resurfaced. The room was
plunged into panic, as Steve, with the devil’s glint in his eye,
snarled,
“Right you old fogeys” He paused for effect as the crowd trembled
and then announced.
“STRAT’S BACK!”
Mabel shrieked. Ethel ran around trailing toilet tissue, boring Bill,
headed for the door and Wally, another resident, made a desperate
plea.
“Somebody go get Chewy...QUICKLY.”
Steve plugged in his guitar. Elvin stood to the side of his large bass
and Wayne set up his drum kit, while the other residents scampered
about in distress. Charles sat at his piano looking confused as Mrs.
Chew rushed into the room, hurrying over to the four.
“You were told not to set up again after the last incident and our
previous conversation,” shouted a perturbed Mrs. Chew.
“Just making our new friend feel at home,” said Steve “and besides,
the rec room’s empty, so we won’t be disturbing anybody.”
"It’s empty because you scared everybody away, same as before,”
Mrs. Chew said, exasperated.

"This time it will be different. We are playing along with Charles’s
classical shit.” said Steve and turned to Charles. “Play 'er some of
your music Charlie boy.”
Charles, dumbfounded, started to play.
Mrs. Chew stood with her hands on her hips and listened to Charles
play a melancholy tune. She knew Steve was manipulating her yet
again, but he was the boss’s father, so she couldn’t say a great deal.
She gave them a stern look and told them, “You have got one hour
and then you must put everything away.” She turned and stormed
out of the recreation room.
“Good, Chewy’s pissed off, so now we can start.” Steve said. He
tapped Charles on the shoulder and announced, “Okay Charlie boy,
you can stop playing that crap and we can get down to playing some
serious music.” With a smile, he growled, “Rock and Roll.”
He started to play and Elvin and Wayne joined in with ‘Johnny 'B'
Good.’ Steve sang and rocked away like a teenager. He shook and
swayed in front of Charles, who silently sat at his piano, while Steve
banged out his rendition of the rock’n’roll classic, Elvin had
difficulty plucking his double bass, because he hadn't put on his
‘little falsies,’ and Wayne thumped out a beat on his drums, which
unfortunately wasn’t for the same song.
Charles listened and thought he could feel his eardrums starting to
bleed. This wasn’t music to his ears; it sounded more like cats being
murdered, but being polite, he let them finish their rendition.
“What do you think Charlie, could you add something to make any
improvements?” Steve asked.
A shotgun came into Charles’s mind. He looked at the smiling faces
of the proud old wrinkled rockers, and recalled what Mary always

told him about there not being good or bad music, only music that
people either liked, or disliked, according to their individual taste.
“Maybe...You just need to all come together a little more with the
harmony. You need a little structure.” He replied.
“Can you ‘elp us with that?” Elvin asked.
Steve interrupted, “Yeah Charlie boy, you can help us and join our
band, and we will give ya a cool stage name.”
Charles considered, while the other three started to discuss their
song; he thought about this proposal and his new life. Charles knew
this would be a challenge, but having something to keep him
interested with this motley band of geriatrics, could be fun.
“Okay,” said Charles, “I think I can help you, but please don’t call
me Charlie.”
“What do you want us to call you then?” Steve asked.
“My name is Charles, so how about you just call me, Charles”
“I’m ‘Strat’, Elvin's ‘Chippers’ and deaf boy over there is ‘Sticks,’
so we can’t just call you boring old Charles” announced Steve,
smiling
“Nobby,” interrupted Elvin.
“What?” Steve, Charles, and Wayne asked.
“Nobby, repeated Elvin, and went on to explain, “In the military,
anyone with the surname, ‘Clark,’ was always called ‘*Nobby
Clark.’”

Charles remembered his childhood and how he'd heard people refer
to his father as Brigadier ‘Nobby’ Clark, although at the time he had
been unsure why.
“Okay” said Charles as he looked into the smiling faces of the
elderly men, “Nobby it is then.”
Charles looked at Elvin, who was now fitting what looked like
homemade prosthetics to his finger stumps.
“I will sound better playing with these on,” said Elvin, waving his
small Edward Scissorhands-esque attachments. One had an index
finger and a thumb-shaped object set at various angles, which
Charles noticed was the perfect shape and design for plucking the
strings of the double bass. His left hand prosthetic was just one
small tube, which looked ideal for covering the fret strings at the
neck of the instrument. 'Ingenious,' thought Charles.
Elvin noticed his interest. “These are me little falsies. I made a few
of these for different occasions. I call these my ‘bass falsies’. I also
have me 'eating falsies,' 'card playing falsies,' 'lady pleasing falsies,’
and many more, which I will show you in the fullness of time,” said
Elvin in his cheery cockney twang.
Charles looked at Elvin’s tatty old instrument and asked, “That’s a
Flores, isn't it?”
Elvin was impressed by Charles knowledge and announced,
“Yeah, a Flores Midnight double bass, which I bought many years
ago when I saw it advertised for sale. Although it was in dilapidated
condition and apparently being 'eld together by woodworm holding
hands, I fell in love with the tatty old instrument, so I got it restored.
I always loved playing the double bass and learned to play years

ago, before I lost me fingers.” He again held up his hands displaying
his falsies and proudly announced. “And fanks to these I still can.”
Charles winced and hoped that Elvin wasn’t going to play again.
****
The four old musicians stood by the side of Charles’s piano and
Steve said, “Well lads, we have one hour, so what shall we play?”
“Perhaps Nobby could suggest somefing,” Elvin replied.
Charles cringed. He looked at the eager trio and suggested. “I
suppose our first step would be to find something that we can all
play together. I don’t know any rock music and I don’t imagine any
of you have any sheet music for me to follow, so maybe we start
with the basics.”
“Sheet music.” laughed Steve. "I don’t reckon that any of us can
even read sheet music."
“I can,” chipped in Elvin.
“Me too,” added Wayne from behind his drum kit.
Steve looked shocked, especially at Wayne, and not just because he
had heard him, as Steve knew he was only selectively deaf. What
shocked him was that though he had known Wayne for almost two
years and knew he could beat out a good rhythm, he had never
suspected that this old Canadian had any musical education. Wayne
smiled and added,
“I have also written a few songs, but I’ve never had anyone to sing
or perform them with.”

“You’re a dark horse, Logan,” said Steve.
“Perhaps I could take a look at your songs. We may as well learn
them. At least then we will all be on a level playing field,” said
Charles.
“What?” Wayne asked.
Charles repeated his request, but spoke louder.
“Okay,” said Wayne “They are in my room, maybe tomorrow.”
Charles wanted to find out more about his new friends, partly
because he was interested, but more importantly, because he wanted
to fill in an hour to stop them playing more awful, eardrum-bleeding
noise.
“Are any of you married?” Charles enquired.
“No,” said Elvin “my wife passed away four years ago.”
“I'm single. I got divorced years ago and played the field,” Steve
announced.
Charles missed Mary, so he continued with the conversation to take
his mind off his beloved wife.
“How about you Wayne, are you married?”
“Wayne unfortunately lost his wife 20 years-ago,” Steve said and
shouted at Wayne. “Didn’t you mate?”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that Wayne, what did she die from?”
Charles shouted.

“What?” Asked Wayne looking confused, and then replied, “My
wife didn’t die.”
Elvin and Steve chortled.
“She didn’t die,” said Elvin. “He just lost 'er.”
“What?” Wayne asked, again fiddling with his hearing-aid.
****
Wayne was popular among the female residents of Fossdyke. When
he'd first moved in, they flocked around him like a Liverpool
postman on giro day. Even Mrs. Chew had a crush on old Wayne,
even though she was married and 20 years his junior.
Wayne told Charles that he'd resided at Fossdyke now for two
years. Originally from Ontario, Canada, he had settled in
Cleethorpes 15 years ago, after spending many years trying to trace
his long lost love, Julie.
He explained that his family originated from Sicily and owned an
Italian restaurant chain in Canada. His sights were set on becoming
a musician. He left the family home on his 16th birthday and joined
‘The Alex Gilroy Band,’ a seven-piece swing band. He'd studied
music at school, and although he could play keyboard instruments,
his forte, and love, was for the drums. He was given the nickname
‘Sticks,’ as he always carried around a set of drumsticks, which he
tapped at anything that he felt could offer a beat: bottles, cans,
peoples’ heads. He had toured as the band’s drummer throughout
Canada. Wayne remained with them for several years, until the rock
’n’ roll revolution hit America in the late fifties. He relocated to the
U.S. where he joined 'Johnny and the Jeepsters,' a rock ’n’ roll and
skiffle band. Throughout the sixties and seventies, he moved around
with various bands.

During the 1980’s, various other forms of music pushed out the old
rock ’n’ roll, so he decided to try his hand at rock music. Although
he was aging, he teamed up with a rock band named ‘Smoking
Heads’ and dropped his nickname ‘Sticks’ as he felt it was no
longer cool, and didn’t belong in the rock and pop era. The band
never became famous to any great degree, but had a small fan base.
They performed many gigs around the world, touring several
countries. Loud music started to take its toll on Wayne’s hearing,
becoming increasingly difficult to hear the music as each tour went
on. The group did a tour of the U.K. in the mid 1980’s. They
decided to get rid of Wayne, whom, due to his age, no longer fitted
in with their hard rocker image. They played a gig at the Sheffield
Arena, and it was there where he met and fell in love with Julie, an
attractive 30 year-old woman from Cleethorpes. Wayne usually
prided himself on never having any emotional attachment towards
women. However, he became besotted with Julie and invited her to
the United States, so they could be together. Julie readily accepted
and she moved to the U.S. Their life was great at first. Wayne found
work as a session musician and started to write and sell some of his
songs.
As his deafness became progressively worse, his work sessions got
shorter. He became miserable and angry, taking out his anger on
Julie. He had turned into a violent drunkard and Julie felt dejected.
One night he came home spannered; Julie and her belongings were
gone
Over the next few days, he remained sober, while trying to figure
out what happened to Julie. He'd phoned their friends and
acquaintances, to no avail. Julie simply vanished without a trace;
taking a chunk of money from their joint account and using their
credit card to purchase a flight to Manchester, England.
He had inherited 25% of the family's business and received an
annual dividend, so with money being of no concern, he decided to

search for Julie. He didn’t know much about her, he never bothered
with that side of their relationship, all he knew that her name was
Julie Croft and she was from Cleethorpes.
He arrived in Cleethorpes in the winter of 1991 and spent the next
few months trying to track down the Croft family. He came across
many people with the same surname, but none knew, or had ever
heard of, Julie Croft. Now in his late 50’s, his hearing had become
seriously impaired and he could only hear clearly on sporadic
occasions. His only lead came early in 2002 when he read an
obituary in the Grimsby Evening Telegraph, of a Mr Ronald Croft-
Baker who had passed away. It listed those who attended the
funeral. Wayne noticed the daughter’s name was Mrs. Julie
Braithwaite, and for some reason, Wayne knew that it was his Julie.
He tracked down the only relative who remained in Cleethorpes
from the Croft-Baker family, which was Ronald’s elderly sister. She
confirmed Julie Croft-Baker was indeed her niece and spent time in
America, but she never returned to Cleethorpes. All the old woman
could tell him was that she had seen Julie at the funeral along with
her husband, but that was the first time in many years that she’d had
any contact with her. She told him that Julie only came, paid her
respects, and then left. She had no other information. He was
confused as to why Julie told him her name was Croft, and wished
he'd paid more attention to the details when they were together. He
bought a house and lived alone until the latter part of 2008. He'd
bought a set of drums and a small Yamaha keyboard to entertain
himself. He also composed a few songs, although he had trouble
performing them. Although he wore a hearing-aid, he still couldn’t
hear the lyrics clearly. His deafness became a burden and he'd been
robbed several times, as word spread that a deaf old man lived
alone. He became afraid to stay at home and felt too old to return to
Canada or the States. Cleethorpes became his home and he still had
a flicker of hope that he would find Julie.

He sold his house and decided to move into a residential home, He'd
searched around the area and stumbled upon Fossdyke.
Wayne finished his tale. Charles, recalling some of Wayne's story,
asked,
“I thought you dropped the name Sticks. So how come they call you
Sticks now?”
Wayne looked at Steve and frowned.
“It’s that slap-heads fault,” he said.
He told Charles that he’d kept a few mementos from his past days
as a musician. One of these was a tatty old framed poster from his
days with 'Johnny and the Jeepsters,' which hung in his room. Steve
giggled as the story was about to unfold.
Wayne then told Charles,
“One day as I was getting ready to go the recreation room to
rehearse; Steve, knocked, walked into my room, and noticed the
faded yellow poster. He went over, looked at the picture, and asked
about the band. Steve had heard of them and was impressed that I
had actually played with the ‘Jeepsters’.”
Wayne looks at Steve chuckling and continues,
“I hadn't previously divulged too much information about his past,
so I mumbled; Yeah, I played with them for a short while. Steve
continued asking more questions, so I fiddled with my hearing-aid,
feigning deafness. Steve saw the poster, read the band’s line up, and
chuckled, Wayne ‘Sticks’ Logan. I cursed under my breath as I
realised that Steve had found out my nickname, and ‘Sticks’ was
reborn.”

The four didn’t play anymore as they listened to Wayne’s tale,
much to the relief of Charles. After their hour was up, Wayne,
Steve, and Elvin packed away their instruments. Steve suggested
they should take a walk to the Pavilion, which was the closest pub.
Charles wasn’t in the mood, but after the three persisted, and
wanting to hear more about his new friends, he agreed, and they
headed for the pub.
The Pavilion was a large public house set back from the boating
lake, on a small patch of land surrounded by several trees. It was a
popular watering hole during the warm summer months. With the
lake in full view, the outside seating area was very picturesque.
While the four sat and enjoyed their beer, Charles asked Steve how
he came to be at Fossdyke. Elvin and Wayne looked dismal as they
knew what Steve’s story would lead to, and they prepared
accordingly as Steve related his tale.
****
Steve told Charles that he originally came from Scunthorpe. He had
decided that he wanted to be a musician during the 1960’s, so he
bought an acoustic guitar and learned to play. Saving his wages, he
upgraded to an electric Fender Stratocaster. Steve and two of his
friends formed ‘Strat and the Steelers’, performing in several pubs
and clubs throughout the Lincolnshire area. Steve held high
aspirations of being a rock star, but because the Steelers were crap,
and he’d met and married Jayne, he decided to settle down. The
couple had a daughter, Lucy, and Steve became a happy and
contented family man for many years, until Jayne had an affair with
one of his friends. They divorced when Lucy was 19. When Steve
and Jayne split, Lucy was at university, studying to become a
doctor.

The split affected Steve badly, and he spent the next few years
skipping work and getting drunk.
In his forties, his life seemed to be going nowhere. Being constantly
depressed, he decided to change his lifestyle. One day he awoke,
withdrew his savings, went to a travel agent, and booked a flight to
Australia. He took with him a few items of clothing and his old
Fender Stratocaster. He told no one and severed all ties. Steve spent
the next 20 years in Australia. He moved from town to town, city to
city, and job to job. He occasionally played in local bars for drinks
and food. He lived the carefree life he had always wanted, with no
ties.
Steve, now approaching sixty, decided to find a female companion
to take care of him in his old age. He knew that if he stayed in
Australia or returned to U.K. he would be alone. Being a short, fat,
bald, sixty-year-old, who smoked 3-packs of cigarettes a day, would
not be a western woman’s idea of a great catch. Besides he did not
fancy being lumbered with an old troll, so he decided to try the
Philippines.
Wayne and Elvin knew what was about to come next, they had
heard this many times before as a prelude to one of Steve’s repeated
tales. Wayne turned off his hearing-aid, and Elvin sighed as Steve
said
“When I was in the Philippines...”
While Wayne and Elvin cringed, Steve continued with his story.
It was shortly after he arrived in Manila that Steve felt his biggest
regret; he wished that he’d come sooner, as the Southeast Asian
adventure instantly made his head spin. This fabulous new culture
and lifestyle drew Steve into a magical existence. He settled in
Angeles City, a raucous, sex-filled, sin city in the Philippines. He

worked in a few live music venues and, although receiving little
pay, he reaped the other benefits of being a western musician. Steve
lived and partied in a carefree existence. His desire to find and settle
down with a woman diminished, as there were too many to choose
from. Steve spent several years in this blissful existence, until one
day he developed a severe pain in the left side of his abdomen. Not
having much money, the woman he was with at the time, took him
along to the local quack, who performed an emergency hernia repair
operation on Steve.
His condition improved, but made him realise, that although a
hernia is not life threatening, what would happen if he developed
something more serious? Who could he turn to, and who would look
after him, having no money? He therefore decided to contact his
daughter, Lucy, who he’d had no contact with for over 20 years. He
contacted the U.K. embassy in Manila to assist him.
Steve continued with his wild and carefree life for several months,
until the embassy contacted him and informed him they had tracked
down his daughter. Dr. Lucy Fossdyke M.D., a general practitioner
with a practice in Cleethorpes.
Lucy and her husband, Bernard, an accountant, visited Steve in
Angeles. After a tearful reunion, Lucy became concerned and
wanted her father to return to the U.K. Steve refused at first, until
several weeks after Lucy returned to England, he was rushed into a
local hospital. The hospital was poorly equipped with archaic
medical facilities, but they still found a large mass in Steve’s
abdomen, which the Filipino doctors suspected was a malignant
tumour.
The U.K. embassy contacted Lucy, who became distraught. She
arranged and paid for her father’s medivac to England. Steve was
rushed in to undergo emergency surgery upon his arrival. The
operation was a success and the surgeons’ removed a filthy old J-

cloth from Steve’s abdominal cavity that had been left there,
festering from his back-street hernia operation.
Steve recovered, but was left with an irritable and uncontrollable
bowel, which gave him moments of embarrassment. It produced a
pungent smelling gas, which would escape at the most inappropriate
moments, usually when he was nervous or excited. He was eager to
return to the Philippines, but after several long conversations with
his exasperated daughter, who told him to grow up, he eventually
heeded her advice, and decided to stay in England. Lucy and
Bernard were successful in their respective fields and acquired a fair
bit of prime property, which included a guesthouse in Cleethorpes.
They developed this into Fossdyke residential home and told Steve
that he could stay there for as long as he wanted.
Steve almost finished his tale. Wayne and Elvin thought this time
they got away lightly, as Steve hadn’t mentioned all his Filipina
sexual encounters, like he usually did.
Steve then told Charles that his roaming, carefree days, were over
and he settled into his tranquil life in Fossdyke. However, he
yearned to return to the Philippines and, although his wild days
were behind him; when he’d first moved in, he occasionally
thrashed out the odd rock tune on his beat-up old Fender, to annoy
the other wrinklies and Mrs. Chew. He told Charles that his dreary
life took a turn for the better when Elvin moved into the home.
Elvin, seizing upon the moment to interject, said, “Yes, that was
both memorable and amusing.” He chuckled.
****
Elvin was the eldest of the four, at seventy-five-years-old. He was a
small solidly built man who remained fit and active throughout his
life. He had resided in Fossdyke since his wife passed away. He

used to have long tufts of grey hair at the side of his head, which he
combed over his scalp, like his old football hero, Bobby Charlton,
but being around Steve, who constantly called him a twat, he’d
decided to go al-fresco and shave his head completely. Elvin's dry
sense of humour could make people laugh, with a witty off-the-cuff
remark.
Elvin liked Fossdyke immediately. It was ideal; close to the sea,
with a well-equipped leisure centre and swimming pool nearby, and
other seaside amenities within walking distance. Fossdyke itself
appeared clean, efficient, and well-run. He arranged an interview
with Mrs. Chew, who told him that there was a room available and
showed him around. The pair went around the residential quarters
and Mrs. Chew showed him the available room, which he liked. She
then showed him the dining area. As they walked around the
kitchen, a woman pulled Mrs. Chew over to one side and spoke to
her.
Mrs. Chew apologised, saying that she needed to sort out a problem,
and directed Elvin to the recreation room, suggesting that he should
go to check it out. Elvin went along to the room and, as he
approached, heard a guitar playing and someone singing an Eric
Clapton, blues number. He went into the room and the man stopped
singing.
“Are you lost?” Steve asked.
“No.” said Elvin in his cheery cockney twang. “Just ‘aving a
gander.”
“A gander,” said Steve and continued to mimic Elvin’s cockney
accent, “Wot part of London are you from then, me old cock
sparra?”
“The Grimsby part,” chuckled Elvin.

Steve laughed, unplugged his Stratocaster from the amp, walked
over to Elvin, and introduced himself.
“Steve Baker...Or you can just call me, ‘Strat.’
They shook hands and Elvin announced.
“I’m Elvin Stanley....Or you can just call me, Elvin Stanley.” he
chuckled and continued “County Jail Blues, that’s a great song.”
Elvin paused and told him, “I can play that.”
“You play rhythm guitar?” Steve asked, excitedly.
“No...But I am a dab hand on the old double bass.” replied Elvin.
Steve couldn’t take his eyes off Elvin's comb over, so he said,
“You look a right twat with that hair-do.” He then rubbed his bald
head and said, “Me and my trusty old electric Braun hair clippers
will give you a solar panel for a sex machine.” He laughed, rubbed
his head again, and continued, “Elvin, that’s a stupid name for a
rock star.”
Elvin looked confused, but was amused by this old timer and said,
“I am not a rock star... I'm a geriatric.”
“We need to liven this place up, so we will tell everyone that you
were a rock star. That’ll give old Elsie an orgasm; her tubes won't
have been lubed since her old man snuffed it. She's probably got
moss growing out of her flaps." Steve chortled.
Elvin laughed and looked at this brash old fart, who announced,
“Chippers!”

“What?" Elvin asked, surprised.
“I will call you, Chippers,” said Steve, explaining, “I can name you
after that bloody annoying chipmunk on T.V. Its name is Alvin,
which is similar, and it’s supposed to be musical, so Chippers
sounds good.”
Elvin couldn’t figure out this amusing character, but liked him
nonetheless. He was about to engage in more conversation, when a
flustered Mrs. Chew rushed into the recreation room. She gave
Steve a filthy look and pulled Elvin away, as if she was on a rescue
mission. Mrs. Chew guided Elvin back to her office, apologised for
Steve, and hoped that he hadn’t been put off the home. She assured
him the other old residents were far more relaxed. Elvin’s meeting
with Steve was quite to the contrary, and he immediately accepted
the room in Fossdyke. Several days later, he and his old double bass
moved in. Unbeknownst to Chewy and the residents, there would be
hell over the next few months for the sedate residential home,
especially when Wayne arrived.
Steve and Elvin had seen Wayne's drum kit and his small Yamaha
keyboard being stowed away into the recreation room store
cupboard by the removal men. They had been strumming and
plucking away together ever since Elvin moved in. They spent most
of their days in the recreation room, but were becoming bored, as
they lacked a rhythmic beat, so Wayne moving in was a godsend for
them. The happy duo, were now a trio.
****
The four, now relaxed, ordered another round of drinks, and as they
sat and drank, Elvin asked Charles,
"I suppose you want to know what happened to my fingers and me
little falsies and 'ow a cockney ended up in Cleeforpes.”

Charles had been wondering about Elvin’s lack out of digits since
they initially met, but he’d felt too embarrassed to ask, but now that
Elvin had offered to disclose the fact, he wanted to know.
"I lost these many years ago, when I was a stoker in the Royal
Navy. I was selected to join the Portsmouth *Field gun crew and
spent the next few years shore-based at H.M.S. Nelson in
Portsmouth. I was training for the royal tournament at Earls’ court;
but during one training session, a run with the 12 pounder, one of
the guns wheels slipped as we tried to lift it over the wall. I made a
grave error of judgment and ignored the warnings from me training,
and grabbed the wheel to stop it slipping." He held up his hands. "I
trapped me bloody hands underneath and it cut me fingers clean off.
"Elvin sighed and looked sullen. “That was the end of me service
career."
He then chuckled and continued,
"Never mind; it all worked out for the best. I got pensioned out at
thirty-five, so came to Grimsby. I got a job on the fishing trawlers
and met me missus, Anna, and we have three great kids. When they
laid me off from the trawlers in the 80's, I built a workshop on a
large piece of land at the back of our house, which I kitted out with
tools and machinery. I started to make medical prosfetics, starting
with me own, ‘little falsies.’ Then I started making some for the
prosfetics department at the general 'ospital. I turned me little 'obby
into a lucrative and fulfilling business."
The four old timers started to feel merrily spannered, Charles now
felt at ease and comfortable being around these three miscreants.
However, something that Mrs. Chew mentioned had been bothering
him, so he asked,
“What did Mrs. Chew mean about the incident before?”

The three looked uncomfortable and Charles thought that he hit a
raw nerve, but after a moment of awkward silence, Steve said,
“You tell him deaf boy. After all, it was your fault.”
“What?” Wayne asked, feigning deafness and fiddling with his
hearing-aid.
Steve sniggered and said, “Okay, I'll tell him.”
Steve took a drink of beer and continued,
“At the time, deaf boy there, hadn’t told us his full story, and
became selectively deaf when we questioned him about his previous
life. Although strangely enough, when we are in a pub, his hearing
suddenly becomes clear when offered a pint of beer.” Steve and
Elvin chuckled.
Wayne took over telling the story, which happened almost a year
ago.
"Toward the end of my first year at Fossdyke, I started to notice
slight spots of grey hair."
"Slight!" Steve interrupted, "you're a lying twat, Logan."
Wayne glared at Steve.
"Anyhow," said Wayne, ignoring Steve. "I was applying a dab of
black hair dye to a small patch that looked lighter than the rest...And
those two," he pointed at the giggling Steve and Elvin. "Knocked on
my door, wanting me to go to the rec room to rehearse. They kept
banging, so I slipped the small plastic hair dye bottle into my pocket
and answered the door. Steve pestered me to hurry, so in my haste I
forgot about the bottle."

He took a slurp of beer and continued,
"We did a quick sound check as Elvin fitted his little falsies, and we
started to play. I was too engrossed in beating out a rhythm, so
didn’t notice the bottle of hair dye slip out of my pocket, and lodge
under the foot pedal of my bass drum. I stamped on the pedal and
the top of the bottle popped off."
"Yeah, and I saw a stream of black hair dye spurt over the creamcoloured,
shag-pile carpet," interrupted Steve, still chortling, "and
the worse thing is; old deaf boy didn't see it and carried on stomping
on the pedal....You should have seen his face when he realised what
happened and picked up the empty bottle."
Elvin sniggered as he recalled he event, and remembered how Steve
warned Wayne about Chewy, who would crush his knackers, unless
he serviced her.
"Well you made matters worse," announced Wayne.
Steve looked embarrassed as Wayne continued.
"Old ripey there started farting."
"All the laughing was too much for my uncontrollable,
dysfunctional bowel and it belched out foul smelling puffs of gas,"
Explained Steve.
"Foul smelling puffs of gas. That's a bloody understatement; It was
like a rat crawled up your ass and died," said Wayne, now smiling.
Charles was enjoying every moment of this light-hearted banter, as
Wayne told him,

"Chewy walked into the rec room. She saw the carpet and smelt the
pungent air around old ripey. She thought we'd let of a stink-bomb
and thrown paint over the shag pile."
"She was livid," said Elvin "Stood there glaring, with 'er 'ands on 'er
'ips."
"She said it was as a wilful act of vandalism and went to call the
boss.” He pointed at Steve. “His daughter," said Wayne.
"And her crush on old deaf was over," chuckled Steve.
"We felt like scolded schoolboys, when the furious doctor and Mrs.
Chew came into the rec room and bollocked us. We tried
unsuccessfully to scrub the black dye off the carpet, but only
succeeded in spreading the stain around," said Elvin. "And they
threatened to kick me and Wayne out."
"They banned us from playing our music in the recreation room."
Wayne told him.
Steve chuckled and said,
"But now that you're here Charley boy, I'm sure that I can persuade
Lucy to let us start rehearsing again."
****
The four, now spannered, decided that it was time they headed
home. They staggered the short distance back to Fossdyke.

-Track Three-
Steve, Wayne, Elvin, and Charles sat around Charles' piano. Several
other residents milled around, but knew they were relatively safe for
now as their nemesis chatted.
Wayne brought along his briefcase, producing sheet music. He went
through it with Charles, who read the music to one song and started
playing the tune as the others listened. Steve and Elvin were
impressed, as was Charles, as he played the melancholy ballad,
which Wayne entitled ‘Vulnerable.’ Charles finished playing and
they looked at Wayne.
“That sounded good mate,” said Steve. “Can I have a try at the
vocals?”
“Sure,” said Wayne, “be my guest,” and he produced a separate
sheet of paper with the vocals scribbled on it.
Charles played the song again and Steve sang. Halfway through,
Charles stopped playing, much to the relief of Elvin and Wayne, as
Steve was out of key. Unable to read music, Steve couldn't keep the
tempo and his gruffly voice made the ballad sound terrible.
“Sorry lads,” said Steve, “it’s a bit slow for me, but I can think of a
guitar riff, which would go great with this song.”
“What about the vocals?” Asked Elvin and added. “I can’t sing and
Wayne can hardly hear, so we can't do them.”
“How about you Nobby?” Steve asked.

Charles told them about his vocal chord problem, and although he
didn’t have the voice for classical music or opera, he would try with
the ballad. He started to play and sing as the three listened.
Charles finished to a stunned silence.
“That sounded different,” said Steve.
“It sounded great!” Elvin exclaimed, "You may not have the voice
for opera, but it was perfect for this ballad. Yer gravelly twang
made you sound like a cross between Andrea Bocelli and Joe
Cocker."
Wayne, Elvin, and Steve started to set up their instruments, and
while the other residents scampered away, Charles played
Vulnerable again. He tried to figure out how he could incorporate
electric guitar, double bass, and drum beat. He jotted down notes as
the others set up.
They spent the day rehearsing the song, carrying on after supper and
well into the evening. Steve, Elvin, and Wayne felt a renewed
vigour for music, thanks to Charles, who tutored and directed them.
‘Vulnerable.’ started to take shape over the course of the next few
days, as the four came together as a band.
Charles and Wayne tweaked the song to incorporate all their
instruments and, by the end of the fourth day, they managed to
perform an excellent rendition.
“That sounded fantastic, lads,” said Steve, as they finished playing.
“I agree,” said Charles and continued, “It is a lovely song, well
done Wayne.”
Wayne smiled.

“Shall we go to the boozer and celebrate? It’s only 8 o'clock.” Elvin
suggested.
“Great idea Chippers,” said Steve
“I agree,” said Wayne, “great idea.”
“I’ll get my hat,” said Charles.
Elvin, Steve, and Wayne packed away their instruments, and
Charles went to fetch his trilby hat from his room before they
headed to the Pavilion.
The four sat on a bench outside the Pavilion and chatted, while
enjoying their beers.
“It looks as if we have formed a band.” Elvin chuckled. "What are
we going to call ourselves?"
“The Four Old Fogey’s,” laughed Steve and continued, “The Four
Fossdyke Old Fogeys.”
“That’s a bit of a mouthful,” said Elvin.
They laughed and Charles said. “We are ancient old fossils, so how
about, The Fossdyke Fossils?’
They considered Charles's suggestion.
“How about just, The Fossils?” Elvin suggested.
They considered the name, which sounded ideal.

“Although with the ‘The’ added, it sounded like a throwback to the
60’s,” Charles pointed out and then suggested. “How about just,
Fossils?”
They considered this name and Steve said, “I like it.”
He raised his glass to propose a toast. "To Fossils,” he said.
The four chinked their glasses and repeated aloud.
“Fossils!”
“We have ‘Vulnerable’ almost cracked, so we can start to learn
another one of Wayne's songs," said Charles.
“I’ve got one,” Steve chuckled, and started to warble.
“Mary, Mary your fanny’s hairy. Your tits are heading south; I’ve
something here that tastes of beer, so shove it in your m...”
"That’s enough!” shouted Charles, interrupting Steve, who then
remembered that Charles’ wife named Mary and, realising that he'd
unintentionally upset Charles, he became embarrassed and
apologised.
“Sorry Charles, I forgot your wife’s name was Mary. I was only
joking,” He extended his hand.
Charles shook it, laughed, and said,
“So how did you know her fanny was hairy?”
Steve looked at the smiling face of Charles and realised that he
wasn’t as stuck-up as originally seemed, and obviously had a sense
of humour.

“It was a fine old bush before it turned grey and wispy,” Charles
joked, and stated that he once thought he saw Dr. Livingstone
wandering around lost in there.
They laughed, as the topic of conversation turned to the females of
Fossdyke and their pubic hair, or the lack thereof. The four
continued to laugh and joke on their way back to Fossdyke and their
rooms. Charles again spoke to Mary before drifting off to sleep.
Over the next few weeks, the Fossils rehearsed and played songs
from Wayne’s repertoire. The music varied from ballads and soft
rock, to up-tempo rock ’n’ roll and heavy rock. Charles and Wayne
spent time alone as they jiggled the songs, incorporating or
changing notes, lyrics, and melodies to suit the newly formed band.
The finished product, with Charles’s voice and the other three
harmonising, sounded different from any new or previously tried
music; its closest classification would be classical, tenor-rock-blues.
Their sound was unique.
They practiced for long hours in the recreation room and were left
alone, as their previous reputation kept the old residents scurrying
out of the room, when Steve, Elvin, and Wayne went to set up. Mrs.
Chew was still angry with Lucy Fossdyke's decision to allow them
to rehearse again, fearing it to be still a noisy racket.
The four, pleased and surprised, by the way they all came together
so well under Charles tuition, started to figure out the next stage in
the band’s development.
They finished rehearsing ‘Life is Too Short to Be Sad,’ a melody
written by Wayne with no title or lyrics. Charles had the title in his
head from what Mary used to say. Between them, they expanded the
tune. Wayne then adding lyrics based on the title. It was a fast
tempo, catchy song with several parts, needing all four to sing in
harmony. It also had a solo tenor crescendo in the chorus, sung by

Charles. It was a rocky, gravelly song with serious and thoughtprovoking
lyrics. This was their favourite song from the repertoire.
One evening, after they'd finished rehearsing, they packed away
their instruments and were about to head along to the Pavilion for
their evening libation, when Steve came up with a suggestion.
“How about going to The Wellow for a change? They have live
music on tonight.”
“It’s too noisy in there,” said Wayne, much to the amusement of
Steve.
“Why do you care? You’re deaf!” shouted Steve.
“Not all the time,” smirked Wayne.
The four walked along the beach road and, after Steve badgered
them to try the Wellow; they reluctantly agreed and headed for the
pub.
****
The Wellow public house, situated close to the town’s small
bowling alley, was only a short walk along the main beach road
from Fossdyke. Although slightly smaller than the Pavilion, it
attracted the younger crowd, making it a lot more raucous. The
Wellow’s landlord, a middle–aged man named David Corrigan, was
an unmarried, stocky individual, with a friendly disposition. He was
more commonly known as Cosmo, because he resembled English
comedian Benny Hill's character, Cosmo Smallpiece. Cosmo ran the
successful brewery owned public house for 15 years and he was not
adverse to the occasional dodgy deal. Although he prided himself
on never actually breaking the law, some of his associates certainly
bent it to a splinter point.

The pub was full of people, and as Wayne, Charles and Elvin found
a table, Steve struggled through the crowd to get to the bar to get
them drinks.
Eventually being served, he jostled his way back to the other three.
They saw the band’s equipment set up and waited for them to play.
The Wellow had live music every weekend and that night's
entertainer was, ‘Tony S.’
Only seeing a guitar and electronic equipment, Charles said, “It
must be just one man with a guitar.”
Tony S. went onto the small stage and fiddled with buttons and
knobs. The Stevie Wonder tune, ‘I Just Called to Say I Love you’,
started playing as Tony S, started to strum and sing.
“It’s the same as a bloody Karaoke!” Steve shouted above the din.
“Not good Karaoke either,” said Elvin.
“Bloody awful,” Charles agreed.
Wayne just thought, ‘I told you so,’ and switched off his hearingaid.
The four sat through the painful set of Tony S, feeling relieved
when he finished and took his break.
“Let’s go and have a beer in the Pavilion,” said Elvin, stating, “At
least we can hear ourselves think, without that bloody awful racket.”
“Agreed.” said Wayne, after switching back on his hearing-aid.

They quickly finished their drinks and as they were about to leave,
Steve said, “You go on ahead, I will join you later. I just saw
somebody that I need to have a quick word with.”
Elvin, Charles, and Wayne walked the short distance to the Pavilion
and sat outside at their regular spot.
They waited for Steve, who still had not showed up by 11 p.m., so
the three thought that he must have still been chatting with his
friend. They decided to head back to Fossdyke and catch up with
him the following day.
Steve grinned like a Cheshire cat all the way through breakfast.
They went into the recreation room to set up their equipment.
Wayne counted them in, and they started to play ‘Consider Me
Gone,’ which was another of Wayne's songs that he and Charles
wanted to try.
They finished and, as usual, Wayne and Charles got together to iron
out the wrinkles, while Elvin and Steve, plucked, strummed, and
chatted.
“Why don’t you try an electric bass, mate?” Steve asked.
“I like my old double bass,” said Elvin. “I tried an electric one
several years ago. It was easy, but I much prefer old faithful,”
continued Elvin as he beat out a fast tempo solo rock piece to
demonstrate”
“How about you, Nobby?” Steve asked, interrupting Charles and
Wayne’s train of thought. “Can you play a small electronic organ?
Wayne has a smart Yamaha keyboard that does everything; it has all
the bells and whistles.”

“I know. Wayne and I use it occasionally to revamp the songs,
while you're down the pub.”
“So you can play it then?” Steve asked.
“Yes,” said Charles and, becoming suspicious, asked, “Why?”
Steve smiled and practised a rapid riff; he could feel the other three
staring at him, so he stopped. Now that he had their attention, he
said.
“I spoke to Cosmo, the Gaffer at the Wellow last night. We're
performing there.”
He nonchalantly recommenced with his riff.
“What?" Elvin asked, surprised.
“Fossils are playing live at the Wellow a week on Friday.” Steve
coolly announced.
“Hang on Steven,” Charles said, taken aback. “Who mentioned
anything about us being a performing band?”
“Why not?” said Steve, and pointed out. “Why do we rehearse?
Surely we all want to feel the enjoyment of a live performance?”
The other three fell silent and glared at Steve.
Wayne broke the silence.
“I suppose he is right,” he paused, “it does make sense.”
“We're too old and knackered to hump around gear at our age and
too droopy to be sex symbols,” said Elvin, chortling.

“It’s only ten minutes away,” said Steve. “I will get the gear moved
and set up, I have some young mates with a van, so all we have to
do is stroll along and play; they will bring our stuff back the next
day.”
“I’m up for it,” said Wayne, excitedly.
Charles and Elvin pondered for a while, and then Elvin said, “I will
have to dig out my electric bass little falsies” he smiled.
All eyes turned to Charles, who was a little nervous, but as he
looked upon his band members’ happy, hopeful faces, said,
“Fossils live at the Wellow in Cleethorpes, next stop the Royal
Albert Hall!”
They all smiled nervously at one another. Charles and Wayne went
to the store cupboard, brought out Wayne’s Yamaha PSR-180
electronic piano keyboard and set it up.
Elvin and Steve caught a bus into Grimsby and went along to their
regular musical equipment supply shop, where Elvin bought a new
Fender electric bass guitar. He knew it would be easier than lugging
around his old Flores, and thought the smaller electric version
looked cooler.
The band continued to learn and rehearse Wayne's songs. They
decided that instead of trying any new tunes, they would spend the
remaining days until the gig perfecting the original five songs
already mastered, plus a few well known rock 'n' roll classics, which
Steve could sing. They came up with a play-list, which they
feverishly rehearsed, and over the next few days, their play-list
began to come together.

With several days still to go before their debut at the Wellow, they
rehearsed all the songs in their routine. Now it was just a case of
practice and more practice. They wanted an outside opinion, so
Steve suggested Elvin and Charles ask their families to come along
to make up an audience. Steve asked Lucy and her husband Bernard
to come along to the home and listen, Lucy was astonished when
Steve told her that they had a gig at the Wellow, and she readily
accepted his invitation to be part of his trial audience. She had never
heard her father perform, and from the reports that she’d previously
heard from Mrs. Chew, was glad that she hadn’t. However, Steve
was insistent that she came along, telling her that she was in for a
big surprise.
Lucy called Mrs. Chew, who eagerly informed her that the band
was still just a noisy, raucous, bunch of old louts, whom the
residents constantly complained about and still avoided the
recreation room. Lucy decided to go along with Bernard to watch
the band. She knew Mrs. Chew was still angry with her for allowing
them to rehearse. She decided that this would be a good opportunity
to appease Mrs. Chew, and gave her father the benefit of the doubt.
She thought that if the band was as noisy and terrible as Mrs. Chew
inferred, she would then have an excuse to stop them playing once
and for all.
Elvin knew his children always made excuses that they were too
busy to come, they seldom visited. Usually if they did, the visits
were always short. Charles also knew his children and
grandchildren wouldn’t attend, so neither Elvin, nor Charles
contacted their families to invite them, or told them about the bands
existence, deciding to avoid embarrassment, for both them and their
family members. Steve felt delighted that his daughter would be
there, and he knew that she had a good sense of humour. After all,
she had married boring Bernard, so he proudly announced,

“Right lads, my daughter will be coming to see us later today, so
let’s put on a good show.”
They started their morning rehearsal.
During the morning, a man showed up bringing vinyl letters for
Wayne’s bass drum. After 30 minutes, ‘FOSSILS’ arched in black
Vinyl letters was displayed around the top of the bass drum skin.
They carried on with their rehearsals, and Mrs. Chew came into the
recreation room. They stopped playing as she walked over to the
four and with a stern look, announced,
“Mr and Mrs. Fossdyke will be here at 7pm. Mr. Chew and I will
come to watch you make fools of yourselves, and then we can stop
this music nonsense and get everyone’s recreation room back.”
She then looked at Wayne’s drum and read out the vinyl print,
“Fossils,” she groaned, and sneered, “Dopey Old Codgers would be
more fitting.”
She turned, strode out of the recreation room, and went into her
office.
Arthur Chew, her husband, who worked at the local council offices,
finished work early and waited for his wife in her office.
Although the Chews resided at Fossdyke, Mr. Chew was seldom
seen. If he wasn’t at work, he usually frequented the local pubs and
working men’s clubs. He was an avid domino player. He popped
into Fossdyke to get money from his wife, as he was skint and
wanted an afternoon session at the British Legion club. Mrs. Chew
told him that he had to be back by 6:30pm, because she wanted him
to be there to witness the Fossils when they flopped. Mr. Chew
agreed, telling her that flyers and posters were put up around town,

about the Fossils playing at the Wellow, but nobody had ever heard
of them. He could not believe it was the Fossdyke codgers.
The four decided not to perform their full playlist, and chose four of
their songs. They would begin with ‘Life is Too Short to Be Sad,’
which they classified as a soft rock. This would be followed by
‘Vulnerable’ and ‘Cry Alone,’ their two ballads. They would finish
with, ‘Rolling Thunder’ a danceable rock tune.
The band finished the evening meal and went along to the
recreation room. Bernard and Lucy Fossdyke arrived at 7pm and
went into the room, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Chew. Lucy and
Bernard went over to the four. She kissed her dad and said hello to
the others.
Several other residents, noticing the arrival of the Fossdyke’s and
seeing them and the Chew’s disappear into the recreation room,
decided to take the risk and go in. These brave old souls nervously
sat down and waited to hear the music, hoping it would be a piano
recital, but became unnerved when Steve glared at them, shook his
hips, and curled his top lip.
Wayne counted them in and they started to play. 'Life is Too Short
to Be Sad.' When they finished that, they went straight into the
ballad, ‘Vulnerable.’
Charles sung his heart out. The melodic ballad made the hairs on
the back of the small audiences’ neck stand on end. Bernard videoed
the performance, flitting around the room, getting shots from
different angles, imagining himself to be Steven Spielberg, until
Lucy motioned him to sit down.
Charles’s croaky, melancholy tenor voice echoed around the hall.
Pearl and Svend Neilsen, a lovely old married couple in their
eighties, stood up and slow waltzed to the tune. Doreen and Stan

Bullen, another loving elderly couple residing at Fossdyke, joined in
with a waltz. Fossils saw the small crowd’s reaction and smiled as
the other residents, including Bernard and Lucy, got up to dance.
Even the Chews joined in, and, as ‘Cry Alone’ finished, Charles
nodded to the others, and they played ‘Vulnerable’ again. Having
done their ballads twice, they went into their rocking rendition of
‘Rolling Thunder.’ They assumed that the small crowd of dancers
would all sit down. However, they carried on dancing, just changing
their steps and movements to keep in beat with the music. It looked
like a geriatric head-banging convention.
The band finished as the small audience stared at them in awe.
Lucy rushed over to her father and planted a large kiss on his cheek.
“That was great, Dad” she said, as the others in the room gave the
band a rapturous round of applause.
Even Mrs. Chew was impressed, and she winked at Wayne, who
cringed, and hoped that Mr. Chew noticed. Unfortunately, Mr.
Chew hadn’t, but he didn’t care. As long as she financed his domino
habit, he was a content man. He could now report around town that
he'd heard the Fossils, and they were fabulous.
The small impromptu concert was a tremendous success. The old
folks present would tell the others, so the recreation room may again
be used. It even appeared that Mrs. Chew had forgiven them, and
she could get back to chasing and lusting after Wayne, so everyone
was happy with the outcome. Well, everyone apart from Wayne.
On the day of the gig, Steve’s friends pulled up outside the home in
a white Ford transit van. They loaded up the bands equipment for
the two-minute drive to the Wellow. The Fossils took a steady stroll
along to the pub to set up their equipment and have an afternoon’s

libation. They did a sound check and went back to Fossdyke for an
afternoon nap.
They nervously ate their evening meal and headed down to the
Wellow. Dressed casually in well-creased summer slacks, with
collars, ties, and V-neck pullovers, they strutted along the sea road,
as if four elderly throw backs from Saturday Night Fever. They
arrived at the pub and a small crowd of youngsters were already
there. The four ordered drinks, went over and sat by the stage, close
to their gear.
The old musicians sat and watched as the bar started to fill with
people, who came to watch the live music. At 7:55pm, the four took
to the stage and their respective instruments and Cosmo went to the
microphone. There was sporadic chortle from the audience, who had
seen the old codgers sitting and drinking, and assumed they were
just old relics who come to watch the live music; nobody imagined
that THEY were the live music.
“Ladies and gentleman, please put your hands together for the
fabulous, Fossils,” announced Cosmo, introducing them. With
butterflies in their stomachs and, ignoring the chattering and
laughter coming from the young audience, they began playing.
They kicked off the playlist with Eric Clapton’s ‘Layla’, deciding
that their first song should be a well-known classic and give the
crowd a familiar sound, although looking around at the ages of
those present, Steve wondered whether half of them had ever even
heard of Clapton. They probably thought his name sounded like a
virulent form of a venereal disease.
Steve felt nervous once they got on stage; it had been many years
since he had played to an audience. He could hear laughter and jibes
about their ages coming from the youngsters, so he avoided eye
contact with the crowd until he started to play the opening riff. His

uncontrollable bowel reacted to his stage fright and conducted its
own symphony in, ‘A’ Fucking Rancid, Major, and spurts of
noxious, foul smelling, gaseous flares emitted from Steve’s rectal
trumpet, which was wafted around the pubs event room by the on
stage fan. Within seconds, the noxious odour filled the room and the
crowd became engulfed in the disgusting smelling emission.
“Some bastard’s letting off stink bombs,” said one of the fine,
upstanding patrons of the establishment.
“Fucking Yorkie bastards,” said another, pointing to a group of
upstanding young individuals from the White Rose County, who
started smashing bottles and throwing them at the other youths. The
pub became a free for all, as fists, bottles, Yorkie's, and furniture
hurtled around the room. Pandemonium broke out. Fossils stopped
playing and the frightened old men stood behind their equipment,
cowering. Steve apologised for his windy pops, and the others said
they would forgive him, if they got out of the violence unscathed.
The police arrived and cleared the pub, although most of the
perpetrators had already scarpered. The four terrified old farts
nervously made their way off the stage
Cosmo apologised, blamed the fucking kids and their stink bombs.
He gave the four a whisky and a pint of beer each, and cancelled the
gig.
With disappointment etched upon their faces, the four old men
packed away their instruments. Wayne, Charles and Elvin threw
Steve dirty looks, but they knew that he couldn’t control his bowels,
although they couldn’t figure out why he'd been so nervous. He'd
always made out that he was a rock ’n’ roll legend, who played to
packed concert halls throughout the world.

They put their instruments away and remained in the now deserted
function room of the Wellow. The bar staff had almost cleaned up
the damage from the brawl and cursed as remnants of the foul smell
lingered. Cosmo gave the old men more beer and whisky, hoping
that they would understand that he couldn’t afford to pay them the
agreed fee.
“We don’t care about the money,” said Steve.
“We just wanted to perform,” said Elvin, looking sad.
Cosmo looked upon the faces of the disappointed elderly men, and
feeling sorry for them, made them a consolation offer,
“How about I let you use the function room to practice in during the
week? We don't book entertainment for any Tuesday or Thursday,
so how about practicing and playing? I won’t be able to pay you,
but you're welcome to use the place, and who knows, you may
attract some fans.”
The four looked at one another and nodded in agreement.
“Okay, that sounds like a great idea,” said Steve, now feeling a little
happier.
Cosmo’s offer meant that they could practice and perform twice a
week at the Wellow, which would allow the old Fossdyke residents
to watch T.V. undisturbed for two nights a week, so they would be
happy. The band could get used to playing in front of a younger
audience. This seemed like an ideal solution to everybody’s
problems and they happily chatted with Cosmo, as he brought them
more beer and whisky in lieu of payment. The old farts got merrily
spannered and staggered back to Fossdyke, arm in arm.
END OF SAMPLE