Songs without music, Sunday, The Anchor, Woodbridge
The Anchor in Woodbridge, the place that used to be called the Station Hotel a long while back is my home turf, the place where it started for me, just over two months ago. This will be my fifteenth gig.
Sometimes I think I’m not doing enough to get it out there, not writing enough, just not pushing it, but that alternates with thinking fifteen gigs starting from none in less than 12 weeks isn’t a bad start.
The performance is getting better, I’m writing more stuff so I can now do two different sets and if I use some short stories as well I’ve got about three quarters of an hour of material. A solid half hour, anyway.
This was the place where a tough rockabilly girl massaged my shoulders while I drank my pint, where what I thought was going to be a fist in my face turned out to be a thumbs-up, where a father and son, both with no hair at all, Crombies and a pit bull came up to me after my set and said by way of introduction: ‘You’re like me.’ As usual I’ll have a quick look around the crowd to see who’s there before doing some of the more identifiable pieces, but at least I can’t get dumped after the first gig again. We’ll just see who isn’t there.
Hey, it’s not all bad. She gave me When The Phone Rings, after all. It’s one of the best things I ever wrote. It would just be nice to be able to say thank-you, is all.
Start Date: 2014-03-16
End Date: 2014-03-16
The Anchor, Woodbridge. Down by the quay.