A gig. A concert, 'a booking for musicians', as the dictionary puts it. I hadn't picked the guitar up in earnest for over two months and I think it showed. We arrived at the venue, small and more pub-like than club-like. Everyone was very friendly and we were offered chicken curry on arrival. I always find it's better to sing on an empty stomach, though. It avoids the odd burp invading the lyrics at a crucial point. The audience ranged from 20 to 78 and all seemed to enjoy our eclectic mix of everything from Journey's - Don't Stop Believin' to Tony Bennett's - 'San Francisco'. It was 1am when we finished and almost 2am before I locked the car and crawled into the spare room. It was good to catch up with Craig, the drummer, and go over the children one by one, discussing their teenage messiness, deciding whether or not we were Hypocrites and stuff like that... my son, Ryan, went for his interview with the Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. I hope he gets a place, he practices guitar 5 hours a day and deserves a break.
Saturday went by in a blur and now it's Sunday, mid-day. The sun has cut a neat hole in the powder-blue sky and it's time for a walk.
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