Getting a decent session going in a remote, rural, sparsely-populated area of England with rotten public transport isn't easy. The resulting setup is likely to be unorthodox, but it does mean that everyone who turns up is determined for it to be a great evening. Just getting there and back home again can be a tribulation and you don't want anyone blighting the evening. In almost twenty years I can hardly remember a single duff Friday evening. There were no rules about anything but certain things didn't have to be said. It was mostly Irish/Scottish/Northumbrian tunes interspersed with the odd song or two. There would be the occasional bluegrassy or Cape Breton thing. We could chat for a minute or two between tunes and there was no particular sense of whose turn it was to start what, and we never had anything remotely resembling a leader. We knew a good few of the local potential session-wreckers and we closed ranks if they showed up. These were often guitar players with big egos or talentless drum-owners. We did let visitors join in but it didn't happen as frequently as maybe it should have. Makes us sound like a closed shop but it wasn't really like that. It was all very friendly. Never saw a music stand!

And the past tense is for two reasons. I had to stop going because my hearing is going south, and, a few weeks ago, the pub closed down (the Tree Inn in Stratton, near Bude, where John and Cheryl Maughan ran a great folk club for many years). Sad.