AMAZING time last week. Thanks to Glastonwick stars East Town Pirates for organising a brilliant, packed gig at The Steamboat Tavern in Ipswich last Friday night. It started off with a blast of good old-fashioned ranting poetry from James Domestic — a fine thing in someone half my age — I did half an hour of new poems and stories, the Pirates plundered an hour of home-grown punk sea shanties, and then myself and my band Barnstormer 1649 finished things off with our early music punk.
If you’ve got any kind of pirate or nautical-themed event in mind, and you like your punk rock, book ESP. You won’t be disappointed! And the following day was equally good in a completely different way. The Locks Inn Community Pub, more or less completely surrounded by water at the end of the River Waveney navigation canal near Bungay in Norfolk, is a truly magical, unique place.
We arrived by the only single-track road, had an lovely gig fuelled by fine beer to an equally fine crowd and then went to our digs by boat, underneath a clear, starry sky looking at Venus and Mars. I have never lost sight of what an incredible privilege it is to earn my living doing this for the past 43 years and last Saturday was just perfect. Thank you so much to Graham and Nicky and everyone involved.
And then back to reality. How many different ways can I say the same thing? Here’s an early carol of despair. Away in the rubble A brick for a bed The little Lord Jesus Laid down his sore head The bombs from th.
