Well, I've found an idea singaround. The organisor knows what he's doing; the landlord likes us being there and even feeds us half way through the evening; his customers treat us as mild excentrics and don't disturbs us; the rest of the musicians/singers are polite and let me have a go when I want to and - better still - don't mind me strumming along with their tunes; I could even take my dog there if I want to (although he's a worse singer than I am), and the pub is warm, comfortable not too far from home and serves a decent cheap glass of coke.
Where are these Elysian Fields?
You must be bloody joking! I'm not telling.