Then another band played. They were fine. They had a good, close-knit overall sound, and really nice vocals from the singer.
So later, on the way to the toilets, I bumped into the singer, and said to her “You have a lovely voice, really. Not only that, but it was brave to do the final part of that Joni Mitchell song, Big Yellow Taxi, and hit the notes perfectly, right at the end.”
And she asked me “Who are you?”
I said “I’m the Dad of the rhythm section of The Monkey Sessions band.”
Anyway, later on, after The Monkey Sessions had played their second set, she came over to our table, and said “Where do you live?”
So I said “Windsor Place, Portobello”
And she said “I thought so. My aunt lives in Lee Crescent, which backs off Windsor Place. We used to hear your son practising drums, loud. I recognise him from the drumming style he played in that last set!”
So I said “I’m awfully sorry if he played too loud when practising, but we used to close the wood shutters, and put a mattress up against the windows as well. Even though, in the heat of the summer, the sweat would drip off him.”
And she said “It was no problem. The lad is good. I used to listen to him and enjoy it. Sometimes after I’d been playing my guitar in the garden.”
I said “No! I used to hear you play somewhere over the wall. Were you really the songbird in the morning? Was that you? That sound, I enjoyed it so much. It was innocent and lovely.”
Here’s a song from The Monkey Sessions second set. Once again, the lighting in the room wasn’t good.