Posted @ 01:25Just another day...

To Tina's last evening, invited to join Rob L in having a threesome sing-a-long. Just an evening of song and chat — et le chat est Lily (sort of translinguistic pun there, folks). Tina's had a cold — bad one — for a while and hasn't done any singing. I haven't been round for a while, haven't seen Rob, either.

It's a cold night when I venture out, some wind but dry. The sky looks like the threat of a storm without any vicious intent: a sort of fluffy-pillow Hannibal Lecture who works for Shelter. It's nice to be going out, visiting someone, being part of something.

I arrive first — a-ah — and catch up on news with Tina until the Scottish one appears. We haggle about who is going out for the beer and Rob looses and volunteers. There also happens to be a bottle of Pimm's N^o1 premixed with lemonade — left over from Burn's Night when Tina's sister brought it round — which Tina and I tuck into whilst Rob is engaged in beer procurement. Yes, it's a summer drink and this is a cold February evening, but it's refreshing and available.

We drink the Pimm's with ice, naturally. It tastes like a slightly bitter lemonade, belying the 5.4% alcohol content. Anyway, at a stretch, it's a fruit based drink and can be regarded as healthy — one of our "five-a-day", perhaps. Rob returns and we all light up a cigarette (terrible habit, but someone's got to do it). On the stereo we have Buffy Saint Marie, Helian Keys and Lily Allen over the evening. On guitars, me and Rob; on voice, all three of us.

The songs range over our own stuff, Tom Paxton, The Kinks, etc., etc. and we have a good time. I know I've moaned (on and on) on my MySpace Blog about how badly I've been performing recently, but I surprise myself by being quite reasonable this evening. Perhaps it's something to do with the beer; perhaps it's because tonight was impromptu, arranged at the last minute. Who knows?

We drink beer, we sing songs, we tell bad jokes and laugh at them. We have a convivial and social evening. We relax. All those silly cares about the pressures of life are far away. Rob plays some lovely lead guitar on Parrish Counsel (the one about my dad, for those who've heard it) — feel a bit more part of the world for that.

Eventually, the evening wraps itself away in our mutual tiredness and Rob and I take our leave to walk to our respective beds through a chill, slicing, icy rain. I don't envy Rob his much longer journey. Sometimes, the world can be a lovely place.