Monday at my clinic was a ‘no news day’ – in a fortnight’s time things will be a bit more glum.
But I was lucky enough to see ‘Dr Feelgood’.
I’m no better (that’s not the deal) but the Doc has swept away the bans on drinking, dancing, walking and generally doing foolish things. It's a 'what the hell' diagnosis.
Strangely, Monday wasn’t going to offer any opportunities for really reckless foolishness, except for a half pint of Lager.
Whoopdidoo! First since 25th October.
As I drove off in the evening to my jazz club at The Red Lion, Isleworth, it was cold and in the low lying Thames Valley where I grew up, there was mist hanging in sinister bands.
About head height and swirling as each car went through a band, the mist once hung over fields between cropped willow trees. Now its roads and houses where once was crops.
Don Weller was in fine form – on saxophone anyway. His intros were clipped to say the least. A man of few words but plenty of notes which means I have no idea what the numbers were.
It was only a quartet last night – usually there are five. I must be the only person there who prefers a quartet. As a result we were missing a good few of the regulars. They missed a good night.
Andrew Clyndert was great on bass, Trevor Tomkins solid on the drums and John Donaldson was inventive and bluesy on keyboards.
As I drove back home, the bands of mist were starting to join up into one big fog - cold and raw.
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