So why can't they go for a meal after the Royal Oak closes, or are the restaurants of Lewes run on the same mid C20 timescale as the so-called train service, i.e. none whatsoever after 11 p.m.?

That just typifies what's wrong with "f*lk clubs", such an anachronism nowadays. Just because they've always (er . . . always? For 40 years at the outside . . . ) done stuff in a particular way and at a set-in-stone time, some imagine it will always be so. Fortunately the sell-by is long expired.

I've seen Matt Quinn in a club once, or perhaps twice (with his dad) but never Tom Moore who I've come across several times in recent years, just hanging out on the edges of events and festivals.

Jolly good they are too, as I'm sure the Sidmouth campsite stepdancer was. This is far more in the spirit of how it was before the flaming "revival" reared its head. We did Northumbrian clog in the schoolyard long before anyone invented the "f*lk club" concept and it never entered our heads that this was "f*lk dancing". It was just what you did.

And, doubtless, music sans labels will be performed here and there on high points rising out of the floodplains to come for as long as there are people on this earth.