Pissing uop agauisnt a wall in a pub toilet just before going into Heritage Folk Club in Oxford. The man next to me suddenly announced it out of the blue - I thought he was taking the piss at first, which would have been appropriate, in that setting.

Then I went up into the club, and we spent the evening singing songs about people getting shot and trying to help the odd American among us deal with it. And most of the night I seem to remember wandering around keeping up with the news and talking about it.

Forty three years! That's quite a thought.