Billed as 'poets' not 'storytellers' we stuck out like a sore thumb. But a sore thumb that is welcomed and applauded. So not really a sore thumb. Perhaps a weird uncle with nice presents at Christmas. Whatever, we had a flipping awesome evening, and the place was rammed.
In a previous post I wrote that in The Brunswick " if you squint it feels like you're in 1913." That is true, and even more so when you've got some proper old school jazz played by proper old school jazz gents Brookside Jazz. Very classy.
Nathan and Emma both performed brand-new pieces, and I dug out an old one. It was an honour to have Hegley on in between each of us, performing something that our stories had reminded him of.
Mark Gwynne Jones, the crazy looking guy in the photo above, was incredible. He's from Matlock Bath, and he's very very funny. We're going to try and make friends with him and get him down to the launch of HOME in August.
The highlight of the night, in my opinion, was the sing-a-long-with-John-Hegley bit at the end. Anyone who can get one side of the room to sing "The Legionaries far flung life is hard" and get the other side of the room to harmonise that with "I don't know why my French father went and joined the American National Guard" is a lord in my book.
So yes. A wonderful evening. Splendid. Super. Now to bind books and memorise stories ready for NEXT WEEK!
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