I'm playing a 72 Ricky 4001s. It was black, but it got battered because we used to play it with drumsticks, so i got it re-covered in gold for the glam show we were doing. After i sold my John Birch i never played bass for a few years, i got involved with a working mans club, playing lead on a Les Paul copy. Then got a japanese Strat, a lot of people knocked the Japs but i thought my was the dogs... It had 2 single coils with an humbucker at the bridge with a coil tap. It could almost get a Gibson sound as well as a Fender. It had a Floyd Rose trim which i used to play with but never quite got the hang of it. Met a fella at a gig who asked me to do play lead on some tracks he was recording, we started writing together and spent most of our time in the studio. He was playing in a duo, the only one i've known with just guitar and drums. Although the music was a bit naff and he wasn't much of a lead player, He used to get a really full sound using an octivider and playing bass lines with his thumb. We decided to form a trio, with me on lead and him on bass, to learn the songs i found it easier following his rythm playing whilst on bass. Within 24 hrs we had a manager and the gigs came in so quick i never had the chance to get off bass, hence traded in my Strat for the Ricky. 
Poison Ivy were doing a ten day mini-tour in the north-east, staying in some digs in Spennymoor. There were a few acts staying there, one of them being Stuart. He was a strange fella, looked a lot like Freddy Garrity from the Dreamers, and was doing solo gigs to backing tapes. After a few days we got talking, and found out that he had the rights to the name the Applejacks. Although we were working mainly on the cabaret scene, I still felt that we would be selling out by, as I saw it, pretending to be someone else. Brian, the drummer at the time, was also in two minds. Eventually we agreed to team up with Stuart and take the Applejacks on the road, as long as we kept on our own gigs. It was just before we got the Applejacks working that Brian had to leave due to his ears being shot. It was a sad time when Brian left, we'd been living in each others pockets for the last two or three years, and he proved hard to replace.
Poison Ivy Got involved in a lot of corporate gigs, for some reason our name was bouncing about all over the place. We'd played for the Shand-Kidd's at one of their birthday parties, we'd played for Fergie at the first film premiere held outside London, and we had even been on the same bill as a harpist at some amazingly posh gig in Worcester, but I'd never seen so much money in all my life as when we played Henry Cecil's daughters wedding.
We travelled through the night from a gig in Newcastle and managed to get a couple of hours kip in Kevs garage in the Midlands, before setting off for Newmarket race course. Bob the roadie ( living on dodo's) used to travel through the night and set up for the next gig, then he would try and get a couple of hours kip in the afternoon
before that night. We got a phone call about 2.30 in the afternoon from Bob saying that he had managed to get most of the back line set up, but was unable to get anymore done because of the way he was dressed. So we set off in the car taking one of Kevs suits for him. When we arrived he was waiting in the car-park for us, we gave him the suit and he showed us to our dressing room which was a directors box in the members enclosure.
It was more like a hotel suite, tele, video, fridge and a drinks cabinet, even a big dining table. Bob got changed into the suit ( which was about 2 sizes too small for him), and as he walked out the door, the waiter walked in with a bottle of champagne. They had laid on a big meal for us. We were instructed to ring the buzzer for anything we wanted. After a pint I went to check that Bob was O.K., and there was this hairy arsed roadie stuck up a ladder, pulling spanners out of an ill fitting suit pocket, and setting the lights with people in top hats and tails mingling all around him. Henry Cecil was a giant of a man, and so were most of his entourage, which made the jockeys look even smaller. Steve Cauthen flew in by helicopter, he'd been racing in France, but once he got inside the doors you couldn't see him for larger people. Even the jockey's wives looked ten feet tall, and it was quite amusing watching them bopping about with each other right in front of us. Bob, as usual, appeared at the front of the crowd wearing something stupid. He'd found someone's top hat, but it was miles too big for him. He looked a proper melon with the hat dropping over his eyes and a tiny suit. A couple of weeks previous we worked a Policeman's ball, and somehow he had got hold of a uniform-including the hat, and was dancing about with the coppers. I'll never understand how he got away with such frivolities. Anyway, for the rest of the night we were given food and drink until came out of our ears, and as we left we were given a sizeable bonus. The champagne was still flowing when we left, dunno what time they finished, but I'd had a great time.Steve
I'd been out of music for a while, and was working in Manchester, when I got a message to phone Nige. He asked me if I fancied a gig in Brazil. After a few minutes of thought I accepted. I was told that I needed no rehearsal time, I would find it easy enough.  I met the lads one Saturday dinner in a pub in Norfolk. We ran through a few stops and starts for a couple of hours, and headed off to the gig.
 After being on a more cabaret type scene for so long, I was a little apprehensive - but soon got into it. It reminded me why I started playing in the first place. Nige always was a good drummer - the best I've ever worked with - but with this band we had an awful lot more scope to work together. The beginning and end of the songs were pretty much mapped out, but the rest was more or less pure ad-lib. Had a great time while it lasted, playing mainly for bikers and bikers clubs. Never did get to Brazil though!