In The early eighties, I was part of a duo that was scheduled to open for the Battlefield Band at the Bermuda Folk Club. As openers, we had neither a sound check nor much if any room on the stage (which was occupied by multiple instruments, all belonging to the headline act). Our first tune was to be an instrumental of “Carrick Fergus” on the whistle and guitar.
As I raised the whistle to the mic and mid way through what should have been a soulful opening refrain, I realized that only three legs of my chair were perched on the stage. Too late, I fell off the stage and plunged my right elbow through the rear end of a custom made guitar that was resting on a stand on the floor. This fine instrument belonged to a very large and understandably animated member of the Battlefield Band (Mr. McNeil). We gently explained to the audience that we wished we were in Carrick Fergus and spent the next five minutes peeling the guitar off of my elbow. We made it out alive, lived to tell the tale and thanked the Bermuda Folk Club for their robust insurance policy.
Davey Armstrong