I don’t suppose there is any chance we could pass over this particular entry? We couldn’t dedicate some time to another purpose and avoid all discussion of this recording in favour of a brief but informative chat about the most efficient methods of removing biro ink from artificial leather surfaces?
I’d like to address it if I could.
You might be surprised at how many of your readers have errant ink stains on their vinyl furniture and are simply desperate for a professional’s advice on the correct method for restoring its original, if inexpensive looking, lustre.
Perhaps we could add it as an addendum at the end if you’re interested.
If you insist.
I do.
I was supplementing my meagre finances by cleaning nightclubs and music venues during the evenings. I was generally content with my lot but felt the atmosphere of my modest apartment could be vastly improved with a selection of artworks upon the wall and so I undertook some extra employment to raise some money for a Calvert or possibly a Bonington if I could find one in my price range. One of the venues that took up my services was Mr Kelly’s, a charming club with some genuine atmosphere and quite hardy carpeting in a dark and stain-concealing hue. We had many artistes of considerable talent in the venue and one of them was Sarah Vaughan, who really was delightful and a pleasure to have as the audio accompaniment to one’s cleaning duties. I recall I was working to remove some of the nicotine grime from the walls, you can say what you like about anti-smoking laws but they’ve done wonders for the interiors of live music venues, and I was utilising a bottle of solvent which I’m embarrassed to say I accidentally upended. Most of the contents alighted harmlessly on some backstage parquetry but some came into contact with a sheath of papers that Ms Vaughan had brought to the venue. I apologised profusely and she said there was no harm done but when she set out onto the stage the true extent of the damage was revealed.
Which was what?
She had the lyrics of How High The Moon with her, which she intended to use as an aide-mémoire for her debut performance of the song in question, whose lyrics she had yet to commit to memory. When I spilt cleaning fluid across the page the ink ran, so when she came to perform the song in front of an audience she was reduced to making a series of “shoobee doobee doo” sort of noises to fill in the unreadable gaps*. Mortifying. She was very gallant about the experience and didn’t blame me afterwards, although her drummer was less conciliatory and attempted to hit me with a spoon, which I thought was most unsporting but probably deserved in the circumstances.
Well, thanks for being brave enough to tell the tale. Do you want to talk about biro stains on couches now?
No. No, I’ve rather lost all enthusiasm for the subject. Let’s just move on.
*Vaughan’s “scat” singing during How High The Moon is clearly audible on the final record.
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