I was sitting in a pub in a place in Kent called Paddock Wood, where my mum and dad's families grew up.  I'd just been inaugurated into the wonders of the game squash by my cousin and some mates of his.  I was absolutely crap.  The ball was too small, and so was the racquet head.  I went on playing for the next 15 years or so, and improved marginally.  Anywho... we were in this nice little pub, called The John Brunt VC, named after Paddock Wood's only Victoria Cross winner in WWII.  Look him up on Wikipedia, he was quite an interesting bloke.

I'm rambling again.

Upon getting a round in I had some loose change and caught sight of the jukebox.  Aways having been one who lives to spread happiness, I decided to enrich the lives of the Brunt's older patrons - everyone but us - with a song or three.  Upon perusal, there was a surprising selection of rather good classic rock singles.  I decided to kick off with Frijid Pink's version of House Of The Rising Sun, which I'd never heard at the time.  My next couple of choices are lost to time, but my final song was this, the 'B' side of House... and the tune that cemented my low-key love affair with Frijid Pink.

I have no idea why, but for several years I thought they were a Dutch band.  They come from Detroit.