If Hell was a blues bar, I'd gladly be a sinner!

Last night was my induction into the shady swanky smoky (even with the smoking ban, if you get my drift) world of the blues, courtesy of some good friends from SOAS (thank ye, James). We sat at a table right next to the stage, and therefore got the full brunt of the music - not that I'm complaining. The early evening saw the crowd serenaded by two men with guitar, singing everything from Dylan to Lennon. As it got later, and the lights got dimmer, the small stage was compacted rather ingeniously with a full set of drums, a double bass, audio boxes of some sort, and of course the West Weston lads with their harmonicas and blues charm. When they began, the evening truly did too. Everyone was moving to the beat and for one moment, all seemed just fine with the world. And with the blues, all will be taken in our stride.

All in all, a good evening. And lastly and most importantly, thank you Art Mitchells-Urwin (the person, the idiom and the concept rolled into one person), for reminding me that there is still much humanity and respect in this world.

West Weston, play me the blues, boys.