Today I talked to my lovely friend Deborah in Brooklyn. She was sitting in her garden when she rang me and I got to hear her voice for the first time. I couldn't hear the birds, or the cat sitting with her, but I could hear her gorgeous tones, purring and deep, I could have listened to her all day, telling me fascinating stories of New York life, the bistros, the impresarios, the artists, if I didn't have songs to learn and study to do.
Here's a picture of Deborah's garden that she took while drinking coffee and talking to me across the Atlantic.
I am looking forward to this evening's rehearsal with the very kind and always reliable Andy Gordon. He plays Irish bouzouki and has a real twang and energy in his music. I always feel good when I play with Andy, but I do get tired as the evening goes on. Maybe I'll find the time for an afternoon kip before it all kicks off. I've been learning a few new folk songs, as I never seem to get round to writing a promised song about the lost underground stations of London. But I shall do it, I shall.
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