Well, now, I suppose I may fit the bill ... I'm 57. How old is old? Our folk clubs have mostly people around, above, and a little below my age, with the odd smattering of younger ones. My "regular" club is happy to listen to anyone (it is a "floor singer" format), and we have had young, old, good, bad, the whole bit. A few of the older ones keep coming back, none of the younger ones. My 20 and 18 year olds, while getting along fine with their parents, wouldn't be seen dead at the club, and have never been. Parent stuff ... yuk!

I wouldn't get wound up about it ... just the way things go. The wheel will turn, and the youth will be mad, dirty, unwashed, sex-mad folkies again, and the wrinklies will scream and tear their hair. (I hasten to add that I myself was not sex mad ... not enough assistants!). Try the following song, which I penned a couple of years ago (hope it comes out OK):

THE BLACKBOARD SINGER
(Words: Ian Clarke. Tune: Blackboard of my Heart)

A young folk singer went down to a folk club Friday night,
He wrote his name up on the board, and hoped he'd spelt it right,
He'd practised his whole repertoire for three months and a day,
And both the songs were perfect, 'cause he'd tried them every way.

   And the MC rubbed his name off from the blackboard on the wall,
   He said, "We want those that we know, and we don't know you at all.
   So take a hike, get on your bike, go home without a fuss,
   The blackboard's for the older crowd, and you're not one of us.

You've not been singing thirty years, like many of us here,
Your hair's not grey, your cheeks don't sag, you don't drool in your beer,
You haven't got a midriff pot, so listen to me mate,
To get onto that blackboard, for thirty years you'll wait."

The young folk singer the next day went to his local bank,
And got a loan to start his own club with his best friend Frank (it rhymes!)
One year and it was a big hit, when through the teenage horde,
Came an ancient balding folkie, wrote his name up on the board.

   And the MC rubbed his name off from the blackboard on the wall,
   He said, "We want those that we know, and we don't know you at all.
   So take a hike, get on your bike, go home without a fuss,
   The blackboard's for the younger crowd, and you're not one of us.

The moral of this little tune should be quite clear to all,
If you long to sing your song at a club or in a hall,
Do not enrage those not your age by pushing in your snout,
Or, like my mate, your final fate will be to get rubbed out.