This reminds me of a pleasant surprise I had in 1969. I arrived in Glasgow, knowing not a soul and armed with just a phone number of an agent, Arthur Argo. I called Arthur's house and spoke to a woman who was minding his kids for the afternoon. I told her that I was an American folksinger with an introduction from a friend of Mr. Argo. She offered to drive out to the station and pick me up and told me to wait outside for her. Twenty minutes later a car containing two small Argos and Jean Redpath piled out of a tiny Austin and packed me in.
I hadn't seen Jeanie since the Beers Festival and I didn't know she was a friend of Arthur's. (How come I never had a babysitter that cool?)