Of course there are certain cunning individuals who can turn their scolarly intros into golden entertainment without veering into the Badlands of Folk Comedy even in the setting of one of the Fylde Festivals less desirable venues. We witnessed this on Saturday night even as the MC fumbled about the place trying to figure out how to work the lights and the ghostly ectoplasmic fug of the Wheeltappers and Shunters club hung in the stale air undisturbed by anything brighter than a lighter since 1970 at least (somehow, you just know the Shirley Bassey Sink anecdote is set here). But, undaunted, and with the sort of gifted artistry that sorts out Men from Boys, we were lifted (nay transported) into the more wholesome realms of Traditional Song & Ballad (& more besides) in such a way as to quite ignore the oppressive horror of the place. Mr Brian Peters, to you, sir, I doff my cap.

We didn't stay long enough to see The Emily Portman Trio, but we loved her set the following day at Moseley. Her music is an exquisitely woven filigree tenderness ideally suited for the rainbow colours, smiling painted faces & verdant parkland setting that typifies the Psychedelic Arcadia that is MoFo. I couldn't help but wonder how her particular flower would have faired in the sinister gloom of the Gasworks Club. Shame we didn't hang round long enough to find out really, but, like Brian, I bet she sent the shadows fleeing away...

Then, doubt not, ye fearful
The Eternal is King
Up, heart, and be cheerful,
And lustily sing:
What chariots, what horses
Against us shall bide
While the Stars in their courses
Do fight on our side?