Just back from the kind of evening where you have to pinch yourself to make sure you're actually there ... singing in a community hall in the back of beyond to an appreciative audience who've already sat through a couple of hours of varied turns. In fact, because we were accompanied in our last piece ("Fly me to the Moon") by a keyboard with a rhythm section added, we felt positively 21st century by comparison with the rest of the evening.
I suppose if asked I'd have said that concerts like this belonged in my childhood, when we used to go to the Brodick Summer concert in the local hall and see the plumber in a play and hear the hairdresser warble in a voice which hinted at better days. But no - it was all there, and we were a part of it. From the singer whose partner gazed lovingly at her as she sang (and who revealed that they'd been fighting madly over the choice of repertoire) to the various ladies of a certain age (present writer included) who had to juggle specs and music and the spotlights which dimmed in a random manner which suggested a fluctuating electricity supply - nothing seemed impossible.
Ah well. A Good Time Was Had By All. But why do sheep lie on the (single track) road during the night?