A Quirky Night On Sunday

Wafts of sizzling Irish fiddles drifted down the stairs; we were in the womb-like basement of The Harrison, wooden folding chairs lined up, sound check done, Gabriella and Mike had arrived and one or two other people drifted in as we began our set; here was Peter, with his camera, Jessica, Romany with her baby in her tum... it was one of those gigs where everyone chatted in between songs and we kind of got to know each other.
Halfway through, Shanne came in with Eucalypta and a bunch of friends. It was Shanne's birthday and they had been upstairs with the fiddles; everything became lively and youthful for the middle set.
We sang Happy Birthday to Shanne.
The poet Steve Mick stayed on after Eucalypta had contributed some lovely freestyle singing to the night, accompanied by Kath. Steve sat and smiled. 'I like the vibe', he said.
Tonje arrived late: she had been preparing work for Monday.
Sarah did a selfie of us to send to Jamie in Manchester.
It was never quite clear who was in the audience and who was on show, but that was what was nice about it. People piped up with ideas and jokes and questions.
Kath played some new songs, and I didn't (I ran through them yesterday afternoon and decided the words needed to be better).
Jude sang with a guitar, which was a first; I loved the second song she played, and she sang some Mozart too; she was in very good voice, in spite of being ill.
Kath's song about the Old Ladies on the bus made my eyes fill with tears, even though it was funny too; lots of her songs have that poignant and bittersweet feel to them.
I was feeling sad anyway because of the Pittsburgh shooting; that's the synagogue where my very dear friend Laura got married, and where her baby naming ceremonies were held; our daughters are almost the same ages as each other. We met up in May: we hadn't seen each other since she was 12 and I was 14. The world has so many sweet and wonderful people in it and it is deeply, deeply upsetting to see cruel and destructive people becoming powerful and influential. Every tiny thing we can do to resist it we must do, even when it seems hopeless and when we feel we no longer have the energy to fight back. I am so sorry about what happened to those gracious elderly people who deserved to have a peaceful and happy life.

Back to Sunday night...
It almost felt as though we should have done the gig in our pyjamas with cups of hot chocolate, but I think that's what happens when the clocks go back and everyone's twenty four hour clock is slightly off kilter. Our small alternative universe in the middle of King's Cross flowed into unusual shapes and we all went along with it; it was gentle and the evening floated by in an eccentric and timeless way.

Pic nicked from Michael's Facebook page.