Sleepless nights

As a young man, active in Salvation Army bands and songsters, it was common to be billeted when visiting a corps some distance away. We would arrange to lead a weekend away, and to save money, rather than staying at a motel, we would split up to stay at different houses of the folks at the corps we were visiting. This has given me some strong memories.

On one such occasion, I was to stay at a farmhouse with a lovely family, and I was accompanied by another bandsman, a friend of mine – we’ll call him Robert (that wasn’t his real name, but I’d hate for people to find out his real name was actually Roger).

Robert and I were both about 20 years old and knew each other well. Nevertheless, it was a surprise when they walked us to our bedroom, pointed to the double bed and said, “This is where you’ll be sleeping.”

We made some jokes about it and had a laugh. It was just for one night, so we promised to each keep to our side, and that was that.

Well, that was that until about 3am, when I woke up to find Robert sound asleep, his arm lying across my chest. I considered my options – including just going back to sleep or punching him – and decided on using two fingers to slowly pick up his arm, move it to his side, and place it down quietly.

I informed him in the morning; he apologised, and we never spoke of it again.

On another occasion, our band took an Easter weekend trip to another state, and – perhaps foolishly – my two closest friends and I were billeted together to stay with a family who also had a son about the same age: four lads about 20 years old together.

Even better, his bedroom was in the basement of the house next to the rumpus room – with a pool table and record player and some couches – and so it was four young men in the den.

Well, we talked, played music, laughed, and played pool until 4am, when we decided it was probably time to go to sleep. The three of us were sleeping on the couches and mattresses around the pool table, and, a few moments after the lights went off, we began our trio.

One would do a snoring sound, the next would do a little whistle, and the third would do a sound learnt from years of watching ‘The Three Stooges’ sleeping together: snore, whistle, ‘woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop’; snore, whistle, ‘woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop’; snore, whistle, ‘woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop’.

We laughed so hard that it took some time to agree we needed to sleep.

Up at 6am and off to the Dawn Service on Easter Sunday: we’d had less than two hours’ sleep. Jesus may well have risen and been alive again, but we were not so lucky. I think I was in some sort of coma. I’m sure we played well and didn’t miss a note.

Sure, at one stage I may have started playing an entirely different piece from the rest of the band – but I still didn’t miss a note.

Major Mal Davies is the Assistant Divisional Commander for the Victoria Division