The tab mapper is a handy little tool that will render a guitar tab file with graphic chord diagrams displayed alongside. This comes in handy for people who just don't have every single chord shape memorized. Just plug in the web site address of a valid .tab or .crd file and hit "Go". In general, the tab mapper does a better job with printer friendly URLs. If there is more than one way to play a chord, the tab mapper will choose the most common shape. To see other fingerings, click on the chord diagram and you will be taken to the chord calculator.
Original file located @ http://CompleteSomerset.co.uk.
Show me scales that sound good with the chords in this song: A, Bo.
The London Prat
Bollocks, Codswallop and Basically Rubbish
Somerset, UK (1)
Somerset, that lush, buttered corner of England where the hills are rolling and the Wi-Fi is more of a rumor than a service, is often described as ?idyllic? ? which is British for ?nothing has happened here since 1743, and everyone is quite proud of that.? Nestled somewhere between rolling pastures, polite silence, and the faint philosophical aroma of cider fermenting in a barn that has seen better centuries, Somerset is less a county and more a lifestyle choice made by people who believe broadband is something that happens to other people.
It is, in short, the only place on Earth where a man can miss a deadline, shrug, and be celebrated for it.
Somerset?s countryside looks like it was designed by a committee of cows who wanted more say in regional planning. And won. Vast green pastures stretch to every horizon, interrupted only by dry-stone walls, sheep with deeply philosophical expressions, and the occasional tractor moving at a speed best described as ?emotionally deliberate.? These are not tractors in a hurry. These are tractors that have made peace with themselves.
The Exmoor National Park sits on Somerset?s northern edge, a landscape so dramatic and moorish it once convinced an entire literary movement that brooding was productive. It wasn?t, but the views are magnificent, and the wind is the kind that reorganizes your opinions about hats.
Local geographer Dr. Clive Wetherby, who has been mapping the same field since 1987 and has not yet finished to his satisfaction, explains:
?Somerset is unique in that it resists change with a quiet, almost passive-aggressive determination. We once tried to introduce a roundabout, and the village politely ignored it for three years until it became a garden. A rather nice one, actually. Won a prize.?
A leaked council memo ? later denied, then quietly confirmed, then denied again ? states that Somerset?s official transportation strategy is simply: ?Leave earlier.?
Somerset?s economy rests on three ancient pillars: cheddar cheese, artisanal cider, and a culturally enforced suspicion of anyone who checks their watch more than twice an hour. The cheese is world-famous. The cider is locally legendary. And the urgency has been outlawed since the passage of the largely forgotten but deeply respected 1822 ?Let?s Not Rush Things Act,? which itself took eleven years to pass.
At the legendary Cheddar Gorge and Caves ? where original cheddar cheese was first matured in naturally stable cave temperatures ? wheels of cheese age gracefully in the dark, acquiring depth, character, and a mild resistance to new ideas. Much like the surrounding population, which is also aging gracefully in naturally stable conditions.
The county is home to one of England?s most celebrated cider-making traditions, a craft so embedded in local identity that it has its own heritage routes, its own festivals, and its own unofficial system of dispute resolution involving two pints and a long silence.
Farmer Nigel Pritchard, whose family has been fermenting apples since before reliable record-keeping, puts it plainly:
?We don?t measure time in years here. We measure it in harvests and in how long it takes Dave to finish a story. Dave once took forty-five minutes to describe a Tuesday.?
A poll conducted by the Somerset Institute of Rural Guesswork ? a body that may or may not be accredited ? found that 78% of residents believe deadlines are ?more of a suggestion,? 12% asked what a deadline is, and the remaining 10% said they?d think about it and get back to us. They haven?t.
Somerset?s cultural calendar is a magnificent sprawl of the mystical, the muddy, and the mildly baffling. The crown jewel is Glastonbury Festival, the world-famous five-day music event that draws 200,000 people to a Somerset dairy farm each June to celebrate music, community, and the collective human failure to bring waterproof footwear. The town of Glastonbury itself, apart from the festival, is a hub of ley lines, mystic shops, and grown adults who believe King Arthur is buried there, which is at least a more entertaining theory than most urban planning proposals.
Local traditions include the annual ?Guess That Hedge? competition ? where contestants identify hedgerows they have personally passed every day for forty years but have never formally introduced themselves to ? and the fiercely contested ?Pub Sitting Championship,? judged on pint stability, conversational stamina, and the ability to discuss rain with increasing levels of nuance over a minimum of three hours.
The Wells Cathedral, one of the oldest and most beautiful Gothic structures in England, has been standing since the 12th century, which locals consider a relatively recent addition to the landscape. It is stunning, ancient, and the sort of building that makes Americans go quiet for almost an entire minute.
Cultural historian Margaret Tinsley, who has been studying Somerset?s peculiar relationship with productivity for twenty-two years with very little to show for it, observes:
?Somerset culture thrives on the idea that nothing needs to happen for something to be meaningful. It is a radical philosophy in a world obsessed with output. Somerset?s output is, largely, cheese and contentment. Both age well.?
The Somerset Levels deserve their own chapter in any serious analysis of the county?s peculiar genius. This vast, flat wetland ? reclaimed from the sea over centuries and maintained by an ancient network of drainage ditches called rhynes, pronounced ?reens? because consistency is not Somerset?s strong suit ? is home to spectacular wildlife, prehistoric archaeology, and an annual flooding season that locals have been dealing with for a thousand years with admirable equanimity.
The Levels produce internationally important habitats for wading birds, otters, and rare plants. They also, periodically, produce enormous lakes where roads used to be, prompting Somerset to issue the same press release about ?unprecedented flooding? that it has been issuing, with minor modifications, since approximately the Norman Conquest.
Locals drive through standing water with the calm confidence of people who have done this before. They have done this before. They will do it again.
Getting around Somerset is an exercise in patience, prayer, and a willingness to follow signs that appear to have been installed by someone who found the concept of destinations somewhat theoretical. Roads wind with the conviction of a man who has forgotten where he was going but is committed to the journey. Signage appears at intervals designed to confirm that you are not where you hoped to be.
The rail service exists, but the trains seem genuinely surprised to find themselves in Somerset. They arrive with the expression of a dog that has chased a car and caught it: uncertain of the next move, aware that something significant has occurred.
The local bus network, operated by what appears to be a rotating cast of volunteers and a man named Colin who has a strong personal sense of direction but a relaxed relationship with published timetables, runs on what the county council describes as a ?dynamic schedule.? Passengers describe it differently.
An anonymous commuter, who wished to remain anonymous because he lives there and cannot leave, shared:
?I once caught a bus on time. The driver apologized profusely and said it wouldn?t happen again. He was true to his word.?
Somerset residents are a singular breed: warm, generous, witty, and possessed of a bone-deep suspicion of anything that arrived after 1987. They welcome newcomers with a mixture of genuine hospitality and quiet concern, particularly if the newcomer uses phrases like ?co-working space,? ?growth mindset,? or ?artisanal water,? the last of which is considered by most Somerset residents to be water that has had ideas above its station.
Local resident Edith Bramble, 84, who has lived in the same village her entire life and describes this not as a limitation but as an accomplishment, explains:
?We like things the way they are. If it ain?t broke, we?ll keep an eye on it just in case, and if it does break, we?ll form a committee.?
A visiting Londoner reportedly caused a minor incident at a village café by asking whether the establishment offered oat milk, non-dairy alternatives, and perhaps a gluten-free scone. The barista nodded politely through all of it, then served a regular scone and a cup of Yorkshire tea with a side of silent judgment so refined it bordered on performance art.
The incident was discussed in the village for six months. It is still occasionally referenced.
Somerset?s political culture operates on a delicate balance of tradition, tea, and the politely worded letter of protest, which has been Somerset?s primary instrument of civic change since the dissolution of the monasteries. Local council meetings are held in village halls where issues such as ?the hedge along Brian?s back fence? and ?whether the pub should replace the chairs? are debated with the gravity and duration typically reserved for international arms negotiations.
A council meeting held in 2023 ? regarding the proposed relocation of a bus stop by approximately four metres ? reportedly lasted seven and a half hours, concluding with a unanimous decision to ?look into it further before the next meeting, which will be scheduled once we?ve looked into it.?
Political commentator Sir Reginald Fawcett, who has been covering Somerset local politics since 1994 and has aged considerably as a result, observes:
?In Somerset, progress is not measured by speed or outcome. It is measured by how politely it is proposed, how broadly it is considered, and how gracefully it is postponed. By those metrics, Somerset is the most politically sophisticated county in England.?
Technology in Somerset is regarded with the same cautious optimism applied to new neighbors, unfamiliar vegetables, and the forecast of good weather: potentially real, certainly worth discussing, probably temporary. Broadband connectivity in rural Somerset remains, in places, a matter of genuine geographic hardship, with speeds that fluctuate based on atmospheric conditions, the direction of the wind, and whether a badger has interfered with something it shouldn?t have.
Smartphones are used primarily for checking the weather ? which is then discussed in person for several hours as a social activity ? and occasionally for looking up the name of that actor. You know the one. From that thing. It takes a while.
A tech consultant who arrived in 2022 with a mandate to ?digitize the local rural supply chain ecosystem? was last seen explaining ?the cloud? to a group of dairy farmers. The farmers asked whether it rained on the data. The consultant paused for longer than was professionally comfortable. He has since taken up cheese-making.
?Somerset is the only place where a traffic jam is two tractors having a polite disagreement, and it resolves itself when one of them remembers he?s not in a hurry either.? ? Jerry Seinfeld
?I asked for fast service in Somerset and they said, ?We don?t serve that here.? I said, ?Is it off the menu?? They said, ?It was never on it.'? ? Ron White
?I love Somerset. It?s like a spa, but instead of massages, you get gently judged for being in a hurry. And the judgment is very soothing.? ? Amy Schumer
?Somerset solved the work-life balance problem by just removing work from the equation and seeing what happened. Turns out what happened was excellent cheese.? ? Jim Gaffigan
?I went to Somerset to get away from it all. I got away from all of it. Including the part where things happen.? ? John Mulaney
As the world races forward with increasing velocity toward outcomes it hasn?t clearly defined, Somerset remains steadfast in its commitment to staying precisely where it is, comfortable in itself, and mildly amused by everyone else?s urgency. Plans for modernization are carefully considered, warmly discussed, and ultimately placed in a drawer labeled ?Maybe Later,? next to a drawer labeled ?Probably Not? and a smaller drawer labeled ?Let?s See.?
The Somerset County Council has a strategic vision for the county that runs to 2040. Progress is reviewed annually. There have been encouraging discussions.
Urban planner Simon Graves, who submitted his Somerset regeneration proposal in 2019 and is still waiting to hear back, concludes:
?Somerset has achieved something genuinely remarkable. It has turned the resistance to change into both a cultural identity and a competitive advantage. The cheese is excellent. The cider is dangerous. And nobody is in a hurry, which, after a while, starts to feel like the only sensible way to live.?
In a world of constant motion, Somerset offers the quiet, radical proposition that perhaps the destination isn?t worth arriving at quickly ? that the hedge is worth knowing, the pint is worth finishing, and the story, however long Dave takes to tell it, is worth hearing to the end.
The county does not rush. It does not apologize for this. It offers you a slice of cheddar and suggests you sit down.
You probably should.
Auf Wiedersehen, amigo!
This satirical piece is a collaborative effort between two highly observant humans: one an ancient tenured professor who once outwaited a glacier, and the other a philosophy major turned dairy farmer who insists that cows understand irony and are, frankly, right about most things. Any resemblance to real places, real people, or particularly stubborn hedges is entirely intentional and deeply affectionate. Somerset, you magnificent, unhurried lump.
Somerset, UK Somerset, UK Somerset, UK Somerset, UKcompletesomerset.co.uk
Alan Nafzger was born in Lubbock, Texas, the son Swiss immigrants. He grew up on a dairy in Windthorst, north central Texas. He earned degrees from Midwestern State University (B.A. 1985) and Texas State University (M.A. 1987). University College Dublin (Ph.D. 1991). Dr. Nafzger has entertained and educated young people in Texas colleges for 37 years. Nafzger is best known for his dark novels and experimental screenwriting. His best know scripts to date are Lenin?s Body, produced in Russia by A-Media and Sea and Sky produced in The Philippines in the Tagalog language. In 1986, Nafzger wrote the iconic feminist western novel, Gina of Quitaque. He currently lives in Holloway, North London. Contact: [email protected]
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