Simpson and shopping
Mar. 6th, 2024 05:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shewhomustAn eventful weekend: Saturday evening was Martin Simpson at the Witham in Barnard Castle, Sunday morning was Sedgefield Farmers' Market, and then, since we were on a roll, more shopping.
This journal gets repetitive because if I don't write things down I forget them: or rather, I forget them anyway, but writing them down allows me to refer back and see that oh, yes, I thought that last time as well! Saturday's gig was a fine example of this. We set off for Barnard Castle in the dark and the rain, remembering the last last time Martin Simpson played the Witham (goodness! that was the end of 2015...), on an even stormier night. In fact, as I wrote at the time, our journey wasn't too bad, though anyone coming from the west would have had a hard time, and the audience was much diminished - pity, because it was a great show. I particularly remembered being irritated by the wits in the row in front of us repeatedly calling out requests for Buckets of Rain (funny the first time, but not that funny); and I wonder whether Martin Simpson remembered them too: he didn't mention it when he talked about the interesting drive he had that night - but he did play Buckets of Rain.
In theory, he explained, he is touring to promote his new album, Skydancers, which was originally scheduled for release last month. It has now been delayed until mid-April, but not to worry, because he had copies for sale. The distinction escapes me, but I wasn't tempted to buy: I didn't hear anything that I can imagine myself wanting to play in preference to one of my already extensive collection of his back caralogue. Which is not to say that I didn't have a great evening. As a live event, it was excellent, distinguished by a truly outstanding guitar sound: whether the acoustics of the hall, the sound engineer (Ian, I think - he got a well-deserved round of applause), the performer, the guitar, or all of the above coming together, it was rich and full and made me regret, not for the first time, that the current repertoire doesn't include any instrumentals.
In other respects, the repertoire had a lot in common with the last time we saw Martin Simpson live, at the Hartlepool Folk Festival. Revisiting my record of that set, I see that I was already muttering that "his closing number was John Prine's Angel from Montgomery, a choice you can file under I Do Not Understand This Man's Repertoire (nothing wrong with it, but not the strongest song in the set)..." I had forgotten that, but I thought almost exactly the same thing on Saturday - except that this time, since he announced that this was his last song, I knew that it wouldn't be, that there would be an encore, and was distracted by wondering what it would be. When it came, it completely unexpected, and the surprise sent me home laughing with delight: Joni Mitchell's Cactus Tree (I don't think he quite had the range for the highest notes, but then asdurham_rambler pointed out, Joni Mitchell probably doesn't either, these days).
The Farmers' Market, too, is also pretty repetitive, yet every every month has its excitements. This month I was happy to see the return of the pie stall: I had thought they had retired, and was glad to find I was wrong. By the time we reached them, they had sold out of almost everything, but I bought a couple of curd tarts. The lady who makes interesting jam was also there, and I kicked myself for not having brought her jar back, but at least I was able to tell her how much I had enjoyed the gooseberry chutney it had contained. On the off-chance, I asked the spice stall if he had some za'atar, and he was very excited to be asked for something comparatively obscure, and told me I was a connoisseur. As we moved on, I heard him telling the neighbouring stallholder how great it was when a customer asks for something obscure and you've got some! Well, yes...
Another triumph at the Co-op, where I found some coffee filter papers on the clearance shelf.
Then we drove a scenic route round the byways of County Durham to The Range, whichdurham_rambler had identified as somewhere we might find some wine glass: and we did. Nothing special, but we no longer had three matching glasses, so something had to be done. It's not so much that I've been breaking glasses, as that they have reached the point of breaking spontaneously: I take a glass out of the washing up bowl and notice that there is a crack in the bowl (this has happened twice in the last month). Now we have four new glasses, and if we like them we know where to get more...
The Range turns out to be next door to Lidl, so we went there too. After which we came home and collapsed. Except that Robb Johnson chose that evening for a Shoreham Palladium concert on FaceBook, so there was more music in the evening.
This journal gets repetitive because if I don't write things down I forget them: or rather, I forget them anyway, but writing them down allows me to refer back and see that oh, yes, I thought that last time as well! Saturday's gig was a fine example of this. We set off for Barnard Castle in the dark and the rain, remembering the last last time Martin Simpson played the Witham (goodness! that was the end of 2015...), on an even stormier night. In fact, as I wrote at the time, our journey wasn't too bad, though anyone coming from the west would have had a hard time, and the audience was much diminished - pity, because it was a great show. I particularly remembered being irritated by the wits in the row in front of us repeatedly calling out requests for Buckets of Rain (funny the first time, but not that funny); and I wonder whether Martin Simpson remembered them too: he didn't mention it when he talked about the interesting drive he had that night - but he did play Buckets of Rain.
In theory, he explained, he is touring to promote his new album, Skydancers, which was originally scheduled for release last month. It has now been delayed until mid-April, but not to worry, because he had copies for sale. The distinction escapes me, but I wasn't tempted to buy: I didn't hear anything that I can imagine myself wanting to play in preference to one of my already extensive collection of his back caralogue. Which is not to say that I didn't have a great evening. As a live event, it was excellent, distinguished by a truly outstanding guitar sound: whether the acoustics of the hall, the sound engineer (Ian, I think - he got a well-deserved round of applause), the performer, the guitar, or all of the above coming together, it was rich and full and made me regret, not for the first time, that the current repertoire doesn't include any instrumentals.
In other respects, the repertoire had a lot in common with the last time we saw Martin Simpson live, at the Hartlepool Folk Festival. Revisiting my record of that set, I see that I was already muttering that "his closing number was John Prine's Angel from Montgomery, a choice you can file under I Do Not Understand This Man's Repertoire (nothing wrong with it, but not the strongest song in the set)..." I had forgotten that, but I thought almost exactly the same thing on Saturday - except that this time, since he announced that this was his last song, I knew that it wouldn't be, that there would be an encore, and was distracted by wondering what it would be. When it came, it completely unexpected, and the surprise sent me home laughing with delight: Joni Mitchell's Cactus Tree (I don't think he quite had the range for the highest notes, but then as
durham_rambler pointed out, Joni Mitchell probably doesn't either, these days).The Farmers' Market, too, is also pretty repetitive, yet every every month has its excitements. This month I was happy to see the return of the pie stall: I had thought they had retired, and was glad to find I was wrong. By the time we reached them, they had sold out of almost everything, but I bought a couple of curd tarts. The lady who makes interesting jam was also there, and I kicked myself for not having brought her jar back, but at least I was able to tell her how much I had enjoyed the gooseberry chutney it had contained. On the off-chance, I asked the spice stall if he had some za'atar, and he was very excited to be asked for something comparatively obscure, and told me I was a connoisseur. As we moved on, I heard him telling the neighbouring stallholder how great it was when a customer asks for something obscure and you've got some! Well, yes...
Another triumph at the Co-op, where I found some coffee filter papers on the clearance shelf.
Then we drove a scenic route round the byways of County Durham to The Range, which
durham_rambler had identified as somewhere we might find some wine glass: and we did. Nothing special, but we no longer had three matching glasses, so something had to be done. It's not so much that I've been breaking glasses, as that they have reached the point of breaking spontaneously: I take a glass out of the washing up bowl and notice that there is a crack in the bowl (this has happened twice in the last month). Now we have four new glasses, and if we like them we know where to get more...The Range turns out to be next door to Lidl, so we went there too. After which we came home and collapsed. Except that Robb Johnson chose that evening for a Shoreham Palladium concert on FaceBook, so there was more music in the evening.
