Before I made the wise and, if I am to be honest, public-spirited decision not to pursue a career as a folk singer, I played a solitary professional gig at a grim folk club in Guisborough, N Yorks.
Phil Steele was the talented half of our duo. We both remember doing San Francisco Bay Blues and I recall the Story of Isaac and possibly Ralph McTell's Last Train and, since we were great fans of the Johnstons, either Bitter Green or Spanish Lady.It would have been 1971.

If we were bad, the audience was worse. No interest in the folk club's existence, bitter resentment at the juke box being turned off (before we started, so no one could be sure we'd be lousy) and generally hostile. One local hard case pushed past me to a seat in the same row (again,. before we had played a note) saying: "Mind your feet.....and mind your f------ guitar."

We left at half time, gratefully pocketing half our fee (four pounds).

Apologies to those who may have seen this sorry tale before (it cropped up in an earlier thread, and is told more fully in this posting at Salut! Live

Phil later added a comment at my site, admitting to a worrying streak of masochism that later took him back to the same place as part of a blues band.