went to see some dear friends gigging a bar that I'm going to do in in a coupleof weeks. The place seened empty but there were a few hardened revellers: one guy looked as though he'd been drinking since 1932. The mood was jolly, the music sounded cool; the women beautiful.

Then this care in the community type wandered in off the street, with a dog on a length of rope. A brown and white spaniel.

The landlord greeted me - Hi Al! its been too log...! I've just drank a bottle of calvados - part of my five a day....

Then the dog (the brown and white spaniel) wandered to the space in front of the stage and pissed on the floor and grinned mischievously....they wiped it up with what looked suspiciously like a tea towel.

I thought to myself - thank God the middle classes don't know about real folk music and come and bugger it up with their preposterous aggrandising drivel.

I drank bottled spring water over ice, then alcohol free lager. The doors of the bar were open, and I felt more comfortable in the cool summer night air than I had for several weeks.

The sixth week.

The night before coming home from a gig - we passed a farm. Outsde was a handwritten sign. farmhouse cider - all types here. Cold cider straight from the fridge on a hot summers day....

Won't be going there, I thought, and felt a little sad.

Been there too often, I thought - still a little sad though. It would be nice to be someone who could drink in moderation. But I can't.