Fiddlers

To the Fiddler's last night, to see Phanton Limb. South of the river, we don't expect to meet people we know, but we did. Andy and Philippa were there from around the corner, and Rita from Moonface's Glastonbury crew. She had brought mad Arnie the lover/lodger whom she has tried to throw out a few times, but failed through compassion.

Moonface had booked the tickets, on the strength of the support band, Emily Breeze. She was superb as usual, singing her own punk/rock songs with her horse face mouth open wide, skinny-hipped leather trousers and oh-so-gravellly voice. God, she's great. John E Vistic was her guitarist, sweaty-browed as usual, bowed to his guitar and loud,his greased quiff flopping over his forehead.

But let's face it, Phantom Limb left me cold. Folk-related blues, with an Irish-American emphasis. I wanted to dancce; no-one was even jigging around. I was not amused. Yes, I could appreciate the quality of their music, but it appealed only to my cerebrum, not my emotions. I was cold.

Moonface said that she was feeling poorly so she asked if we could go home early, which pleased me. I'd have left earlier if it were purely my choice.

:o/