A Busy Weekend

It seems like a long time since I met up with Mick, June, Laura and Danny in York, and the fact that I had a gig the following day in the Toon was an excellent excuse to see them. We went for an Italian lunch at a branch of Ask in a huge and magnificent old town hall building and talked about all sorts of things, especially music. Laura has come into her own as a songwriter and performer and plays regularly on the open mic scene around Goole. It was so great to see them and I'm looking forward to the next time!

York station is surrounded by wild flowers: a sea of ox-eye daisies runs along the side of the path to the station: it's really very lovely. It didn't take long to get to Newcastle, and I had one of those frustrating walks where the Travelodge looks on the map to be really close by, but it's actually a walk of more than a mile. I dumped my stuff, which was very heavy even though I was theoretically travelling light, and went for a wander along the quayside. There was a bunch of boys outside the next-door building with autograph books (who says technology has taken over everything?) and I found out later that they were waiting for footballers who were due to arrive at any moment. It was a match weekend, but actually the hotel was quiet in the night and I managed to sleep for almost twelve hours. Unheard of! I got a taxi up to The Biscuit Factory at lunchtime to meet Little Bruv who had been carousing with friends from school, some of whom he hadn't seen for 40 years. The Biscuit Factory is amazing- a gallery, café, shop and meeting rooms, all very busy for a Sunday. There's an exhibition of Jim Moir's work there (otherwise known as Vic Reeves), and we were particularly taken by his very funny drawing of The Beatles, one of them astride a massive bull, and New Order, looking like cosy residents of an old people's home. Naughty Jim! There was also a fabulous puffin amongst the bird paintings that he's better known for.

Afterwards we wandered along through Byker to the Old Coalyard, where the house band were setting up, pseudonyms to the ready. I can't remember any of them! But hats off to Gem Andrews for organising these monthly afternoon events. There were lots of little children in ear defenders, dogs, trans people, in fact every queer colour in the universe. It's basically an event that is accessible to everyone, with a venue owner who is so proud of his venue that he walks round picking up bits of tissue from the floor, in a way reminiscent of the guy at The Thunderbolt in Bristol who hoovers the carpets on the drum riser! The How Mountain Girls Can Love House Band (there seemed to be a million people on stage) sang some country classics and we sang along heartily whether we knew them or not. Winnie Nelson was the mistress of ceremonies, and even she joined the stage for the final number. They were followed by the Crane House Band, whose sound was made distinctive by the harmonies of the two women who sang lead; they sang songs of self-awareness, regret and lots of other facets of the human condition. Their singing was flawless, and created a strong musical thread through some very complex guitar playing. In between, Dusty Haystacks (who bore a very string resemblance to Sarah Van Jellie) played a DJ set of everything from the Cramps to Willie Nelson. Everyone was out in the sun when I came on; there had been a series of showers and gusty winds. Winnie Nelson went out and brought them in, and off I went. It was so great to sing to such a mixed crowd, wondering what the dogs were thinking about it all and with the children pottering about in their colourful clothes. I felt the audience getting warmer and warmer, and they gave me an encore at the end, which felt really good on a squally Sunday afternoon. I taught them the chorus to The Bathing Pond and they raised their voices to the rafters and blew the roof off. Well no, they didn't, but they made me bloody glad I'd said yes to the gig! One woman came up to say how much she related to what I was singing- she used to go swimming in the Hampstead Bathing Pond, and used The Ginger Line a lot when she used to live in London. Thank you for inviting me Gem, and I hope to return to your lovely event at some point, and thanks to Alyssa for doing a great job with the sound.

I'll gloss over the journey home: no trains from Byker (well, hardly any), missing the train home by a whisker, hardly any food at Newcastle Central Station (football fans have big appetites), tides of roaring Magpies fans everywhere marking out their territory by bellowing at the tops of their voices (they won, didn't they). Getting the next train, then getting thrown off the tube because there was a trespasser on the line, then being allowed back on it again. Oh my. And a big beautiful Georgian mansion on Hadley Common burned down that night. But it was a joyous trip despite all that, and I keep revisiting all in my head. Wonderful!