A long time ago, when the Earth was still young and footballers wore proper football boots, Gerry was born. This all happened in the picturesque city of Liverpool, a well known place on the north-west shores of our country. He was born when rationing was still around, and when children would sell their siblings for a bag of sherbet lemons - whatever happened to sherbet lemons??

His Dad was a piano player - he played by ear, which used to give him the most terrible headaches until he learned to use his hands properly. Late in his life his Dad bought a keyboard - one that played single note chords. It was at this point, when trying to show him how to use it, that a great revelation was made. His Dad played everything in Bb. It turned out that he'd been a Prisoner of War for four years, and the Red Cross had parachuted a parcel into the camp, buried in which was a saxophone which got a bit damaged during its descent. His Dad's mate played the sax, but discovered that this one was so badly damaged it would only play in one key. So for four years, his Dad, playing the Camp piano (no, it was not confused about its sexual orientation - it was just a piano in the middle of the Camp!!!), accompanied a saxophone stuck in Bb - and this was a habit he never got out of.

His Mother was a mandolin player. She and her sister, who also played the piano, used to enter competitions. They were very good from all accounts - at least they used to say they were. They frequently came first. Success and world fame loomed until the dreaded day when his Mother played a wrong note in one competition - one they expected to win but, with this error, came third. What happened next sealed their fate as musicians. The mandolin was picked up by the piano-playing sister just as they were taking their bow, and used as a WMD against his Mother. Mandolin in smithereens on the stage, Mother knocked out cold, and audience in hysterics!!! They didn't speak for years.

Anyway, Gerry the teen-ager was around when the 'scene' in Liverpool really took off in the 60s (and indeed the 50s!!!). He still has his Cavern card, and, like everyone of that era, can tell tales of bunking off Latin to watch the Undertakers, or Johnny Sandon and the Remo Four, or…. Also, like everyone in that place at that time, he can recount tales of being asked to join a particular band. But John, Paul, George, Ringo and Gerry just didn't sound right. There were two reasons why he never joined this band - one was that, even then, hair that covered all his head was a problem, and the other is that he had only just got hold of Bert Weedon's 'Play In A Day' guitar tutor and could only play two chords. He's now on page 12 apparently.

Anyway, behind the Merseybeat scene was a lively folk scene in Liverpool. Gerry, and a couple of mates from his school, formed The Quayside Folk Trio, which reduced to a duo when one fell madly in love with a Mary Quant look-alike. They did lots of gigs (though this word hadn't been invented then - they were called 'bookings'). They played at such memorable establishments as 'The Wash-house' (you could get your shirts ironed at the same time!!), 'The Coach-house', 'Gregson's Well' (home of the Spinners, remember the Spinners?)….. In fact, they did perform with Tom Paxton on one occasion…well they filled in while he was being driven along the dirt road from Manchester.

Then, with going to University and Teacher Training College (as it was then known) the band folded. And then Gerry moved, en famille, to the Midlands. How's that for culture shock - living in a village in Warwickshire, with trees and grass (and that wasn't just the stuff that people smoked). But most of all, the fact that you could leave your car outside your house overnight, and it still had wheels in the morning.

One thing he'd always wanted to do, and perhaps this was a throw back to the 60s (Carnaby Street and all that) was dress up and dance the Morris. This became a passion - how sad is that!! Until eventually, unable to contain himself any longer, he set up Icentone Morris. What?? - yes, Icentone Morris (the old name for Long Itchington, the Warwickshire village where he lives). This was a great side, but one with a lousy name - many thought they were a 'right on' set of people protesting about the dangers of nuclear power - isotopes and things. Anyway, they were a mixed side (some knew the steps and some didn't) who danced Cotswold Morris all over the country. Once they were guests of Shropshire Bedlam and spent a very hazy week-end dancing in Montgomery, Powys Castle, Clun… and then at a ceilidh at which the then Kirkpatrick Family Bad played. It was magnificent, but in the middle, Long Itchington Morris (now their proper name) danced, and the Squire called for Constant Billy - and Gerry shook in his boots. For this dance, he played the concertina, and who should be four feet away watching with great interest, but John Kirkpatrick - the best Anglo concertina player that has ever been. Apparently, they muddled through and Gerry didn't come out of the toilet for several hours afterwards.

While all this was going on, three little Baileys appeared. And being the good, encouraging father that he'd read you should be, Gerry tried to help the eldest (who was learning the flute) by taking guitar lessons (he'd outgrown Bert Weedon by now). Sadly, when Gerry was ready to take his grade two, his daughter was ready to take grade four!!! Gerry went back to Bert Weedon.

At this point too, out of the Morris side was spawned a Ceilidh Band, known as 'Old Hog Or None' (Gerry was never any good at choosing names). This played in and around Coventry and even made a tape (cd hadn't been invented yet). This is still a collectors' item for the producer was none other than Mr Simon Bannister (see The Squeezer), who with his wife Kate (see The Caller - she managed the band) did much to push back the frontiers of ceilidh dancing. They even opened for Chris de Burgh at Ragleigh Hall - well, if the truth be known, they played for a wedding there two weeks before he was 'in concert', but they rarely mentioned the time delay.

Out of this band was also spawned 'Samain' a trio that played for dances, sang, played festivals, clubs ….in fact, they did anything if the price was right. Cds were produced (they caught up with technology at last!!), and then history repeated itself and the trio became a duo - 'Bailey and Ward'. More cds followed on which the technology allowed them to play with themselves, musically speaking of course. They even opened the Warwick Folk Festival, and were amazed to find that, after they'd finished, it remained open!!

Sadly, the duo too is no more, and all seemed sad and forlorn. Picture Gerry in his front room, Bert Weedon on the music stand (well, his guitar tutor, at least), tongue between his teeth, his brow wracked with concentration, practising minor seventh scales in preparation for his grade three (or was it a grade two re-sit?), when the 'phone goes and a 'voice from the past' is heard - our Squeezer. Has Gerry still got a guitar? …. Has it got six strings? ….. Has he learned to tune it yet? …. What page of the Bert Weedon tutor is he now on? ….. Well in that case, the good news is, a ceilidh band is being formed, and would he like to join …. The bad news is at it's in Telford. Nothing against Telford, except it's 70 miles from Gerry's front door.

So there we are. That's everything up to date, but who knows what tomorrow might bring……..