Good Day

That wasn't such a bad day was it? After approximately two hours sleep last night following a lovely dinner with Lucy O'Brien (I think it was all the stuff we were talking about, mulling it over in my head), I was dreading today's songwriting final session. They each have to play two songs and it always blows me away. It's just the variety- and the dedication too.
Once or twice, I have cried at these things.
A Russian girl, singing in Russian about missing her mum in Moscow; a girl singing about a death in the family just a few days after my father in law died; and one year, a song about the sea by a tough-looking hip hop chappie that was just so powerfully and poetically beautiful it seemed to fill the room with underwater light as though we were sitting in an aquarium, listening in the dappled gloom.
One delighted student today had visited L.A. Strings, absolutely The Best guitar repair and care place in all London run by two mega-enthusiastic guitar-builders, one tall, one small, who mend guitars with skill and love and who are full of stories. They should have their own ten-minute TV show every Saturday evening at tea-time. Within days, every household would have bought a guitar, their enthusiasm is so infectious!
So this afternoon was fun; a few shaking fingers on guitar strings, a few nervously quavery voices, a few technical hitches, but some lovely songs, and one which I couldn't get out of my head on the way home, it was so beautiful.
As we said goodbye, I thought how much I will miss them. They stacked the orange chairs for the last time, caught their guitar necks in their gig-bags in the self-closing doors on the way out as they have done every week since January, and that was it for another year.
On the way out, Jim offered to record more songs with me this summer.
I sense a third album on the horizon!