Hearing Aubrey Cantwell sing the Nightingale in the Bell in Standlake, c1964/65. The knowledge that there we were, hearing the undiluted Real Thing, in a world surrounded by Beatles, Rolling Stones, Bert Jansch and Martin Carthy, Bob Dylan and all that wonderful stuff. And there were us young lads and lasses hearing the old codgers still blasting it out in the old way. Great days, and it's meant I've seen it done and can tell the youngsters how it used to be done. Course, they might be bored rigid, but there you go....