Of course by the time I got home I was well and truly knackered! So here is Thursday's gig report, in the wrong order.
Adrian Goldberg does a radio show as well as promoting gigs at this lovely bijou bar in Birmingham's Jewellery Quarter. Some clever person had set the line alight on the way there. We were chucked off the train at Northampton, told to go over the bridge to a different platform, told to go back over the bridge to the original platform, then told to go upstairs to the booking hall to await further instructions. 'Just go through the barrier and wait, and we will let people through when the train gets here', said the man in the hi-vis jacket. I looked at the ocean of angry people. 'No', I said. 'When the next train comes, I will get stuck in the stampede and I've go a heavy guitar, a bag of merch, I'm recovering from an operation and I don't believe you'. 'Just go through the barrier please madam, and when we are told what is happening we will let people through when the train gets here', said Mr Aye-Eye. 'No', I said, and at that point, the ocean of people attempted to squash through the gaps in the ticket barriers in response to an announcement that neither me nor Mr Aye-Eye had heard.
Anyway, I ended up on an overstuffed train with a young couple being given instructions in how to buy and sell silver and gold by a wheeler-dealer who told them (and the rest of the carriage) what a friendly lovely bloke he was, meanwhile leaving his suitcase across two seats while exhausted people were standing in the corridor.
I'd planned to get there early, check into the hotel and rest for an hour before soundcheck. Alas, I also got lost on the way to the venue, being misdirected by someone at the tram stop when my phone stopped working.
Argh! Gigging!
However, all was gracious peace at The Brewhouse. Lynne, the owner, had seen me play on the train at Indietracks and came over to say hello. It's a lovely bar. The toilets are spotless and I've been dreaming of having a lime green toilet seat every night since Thursday.
The support act was Humdrum Express, a comedian/musician who made me laugh several times. I particularly liked the suppository advice line joke, but then I'm smutty that way. Lo and behold, all the Nightingales came apart from Andy, who lives in Germany. Julie, Rob's wife, is lovely to talk to and I had a chat with Rob as well. They have a fantastic new album out, and I told them how much I'd enjoyed listening to tracks from that on the radio.
Once the gig started, all was well. There's a really good PA in that place, and the sound guy Harvey really listens: he got a great sound. It wasn't a big crowd: I realised that most of my friends in the Birmingham area are single women around my age, and it's difficult to go out to a gig if that's you. Selfishly, though, it was perfect for a first proper gig since being ill. I was so excited that I kicked my water over and soaked the set list. The guy who asked for it afterwards had to dry it under the hand drier.
Lo and behold again, Julie from The Sunbathers was there as well. She told me they are beginning to record again, which is good news. After selling a bit of merch (Jim from the Nightingales showed me how to circumvent the stubborn electronic card reader), Adrian urged us out and I went back for a jolly good sleep at the hotel, The Frederick Street Townhouse. It was so nice that I got up extra early just to have a bath in the swanky bathroom.
The journey home was fine. I took in the joys of the huge steampunk bull in New Street Station, which (ahem) I didn't even notice at first, as I sat and gorged myself on sandwiches and cakes after realising that all I'd had the day before was a banana and four hotel biscuits.
Ahh gigging!
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