february-march 2024 books…

Religion For Atheists (Alain de Botton): This might seem a rather strange additional book to help me in my Lenten reflections, but it was actually referred to in 2012 by Rowan Williams in one his Easter sermons during his time as Archbishop of Canterbury. I’d previously read a couple of de Botton’s books and he’s clearly a clever bloke and an excellent writer and this book didn’t disappoint. Don’t get me wrong – I certainly don’t consider myself to be an atheist (more of a struggle Christian-cum-occasional-agnostic!?). But, in fact, I found the book far more thought-provoking and helpful than a lot of previous books I’ve used during Lents over recent years. He starts by pointing out that secular society has been “unfairly impoverished by the loss of an array and practices associated with various religions”, such as: music, buildings, prayers, rituals, feasts, shrines, pilgrimages, communal meals and illuminated manuscripts of the faiths – primarily, for the purposes of the book, Christianity, Judaism and Buddhism. I found it quite a stimulating, thought-provoking read (even the Church Times apparently found it “surprisingly illuminating”!).
Antarctica (Claire Keegan): These days, I’m a glutton for Keegan’s short stories. Quiet, unfolding, hauntingly beautiful tales (first published in 1999) set in Ireland, USA or Britain. The subject matters vary and don’t always make comfortable reading - murders, betrayals, orphaned children, madness, suicides are just some of the themes in between… with offbeat characters, convincing dialogue, rituals, secrets, seasons and a strong sense of place. I’ve bought a number of her books over recent weeks/months and this (her first collection of short stories) and this is the last one from my bedside table. I’m going to miss my regular Keegan reading sessions… and think I might need to keep dipping into to some of them on a regular basis.
Before The Coffee Gets Cold (Toshikazu Kawaguchi): I’ve read a number of Japanese novels over the past couple of years and they’ve all had a certain ‘quirkiness’. This one was no exception. In a small back alley in Tokyo, there is a cafe which has been serving carefully brewed coffee for more than one hundred years. But this coffee shop offers its customers a unique experience: the chance to travel back in time. We meet four visitors, each of whom is hoping to make use of the cafe's time-travelling offer, in order to: confront the man who left them, receive a letter from their husband whose memory has been taken by early onset Alzheimer's, see their sister one last time, and meet the daughter they never got the chance to know. But the journey into the past does not come without risks: customers must sit in a particular seat, they cannot leave the cafe, and finally, they must return to the present before the coffee gets cold… It’s a rather beautiful, moving story and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.
Their Eyes Were Watching God (Zora Neale Hurston): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1937). Zadie Smith has described it as “one of the very greatest American novels of the twentieth century”. My book’s cover summarises the story pretty well: “When, at 16, Janie is caught kissing shiftless Johnny Taylor, her grandmother swiftly marries her off to an old man with 60 acres. Janie endures two stifling marriages before she finally meets the man of her dreams – who offers not diamonds, but a packet of flowering seeds”. It’s an impressive book, written by a remarkable writer who was born in Alabama at the end of c19th. I found the African-American Vernacular English dialect hard to read (I’m glad I persevered!), but it’s an impressive, powerful, feminist book about a young black girl finding her way into womanhood in the rural, black South. I enjoyed it.
Somewhere Towards The End (Diana Athill): I really like Athill’s writing. I think this is the fifth book of hers I’ve read (first published in 2008, she died in 2019, aged 101) and this one is ‘what it says on the tin’, as it were – a reflection, written in old age, of things she’s experienced through her lifetime. I like her wisdom, fearlessness and her humour… the same sort of feeling I get from reading Jan Morris’s books, for example. I found it a wonderfully optimistic book – marvelling, as she does, at the fact that she only became a writer in her 70s – covering a wide range of topics, including: love; sex; never having been a mother; not giving up driving (despite realising she should); religion (she had no faith); the prospect of death; discovering new enjoyments/skills in old age; non-fiction books; climate change; laziness; oversights… and much more. Rather lovely. 

continuing faith journeying…

This will be something of a rambling blogpost (understatement!)… some reflections, frustrations and acknowledgements.
Having faith. Obviously, the key is in the word ‘faith’. The trouble is I’m lacking it and I’m struggling in something of a continuing spiritual wilderness.
In theory, I remain part of the Community of Saint Stephens in the heart of the city but I’m struggling faith-wise (which has been the case now for several years). So much so that, for the past 18 months or so, I’ve taken a ‘sabbatical’ from attending church services (apart from attending the Midnight Mass at Saint Stephen’s on Christmas Eve). How long this will continue, only time will tell (indefinitely perhaps?).
In the meantime, I’m still trying to find a way of reflecting on the spiritual stuff in my life (albeit far from convincingly!). I continue to go along to our weekly 7.30am café gatherings for Blokes’ Prayer - which has effectively become my ‘church’.
What DO I believe these days?
I was confirmed in the Anglican Church over 50 years ago. I’ve been a Christian ever since but throughout this time, like so many people, my own spiritual journey has been a long and winding road - often fruitful and compelling, but frequently bumpy or feeling as if I’m in a cul-de-sac. At present, I feel as if I’ve come to yet another crossroad on the journey.
 
I still have a faith of sorts… I still believe in God (but maybe ‘my’ God is different to other people’s understanding of the word?). I believe that Jesus did live and was crucified (but I struggle with the virgin birth and even the resurrection)(I know!). I believe that the New Testament stories in the Bible are essentially true (or in part happened?), but I get very frustrated by many of the interpretations (and added details) that have accrued between when the events took place and when they were eventually written down (the same applies to the ‘actual’ words used by Jesus and his disciples etc… and, for instance, exactly what Jesus was thinking when he was in the Garden of Gethsemane or during his 40 days in the wilderness).
Because of these frustrations, I’ve almost stopped reading the Bible (for instance, a lot of Paul’s New Testament letters – or at least some of the interpretations I’ve heard given them in various sermons I’ve listened to – just make me angry!). To take just one example, I followed one of ‘our’ church services online (about a year ago). The Bible text included the following: “For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either” and “Now if there is no resurrection, what will those do who are baptized for the dead? If the dead are not raised at all, why are people baptized for them?” - and this message was duly endorsed/repeated in the morning’s talk/sermon. It left me shouting at my laptop screen!
These days (perhaps unfairly, I know), I find other people’s enthusiastic ‘certainties’ when it comes to faith incredibly off-putting (it leaves me feeling both annoyed and exasperated). I don’t believe in an ‘afterlife’ but, somehow, feel that we need to build a ‘heaven’ here on earth (ok, that probably sounds a bit ridiculous to most of you). I can’t really justify or rationalise this, but I do have a sense that our spirits ‘live on’ (again, you’ll probably think I’ve lost my marbles).      
It’s interesting (well, for me at least!) to read some of my blogpost ‘spiritual reflections’ on faith over the years – some dating back 15 years (although my ‘doubts’ go back much further than that).
I’ve been struggling for a long, long time!
I posted the following on my blog in February 2022:
So, on this basis, can I REALLY call myself a Christian? Well, no doubt there will be many who would answer “no” but, interestingly, the BBC commissioned a survey in 2017 (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-39153121) and found that a quarter of people who describe themselves as Christians in Great Britain do not believe in the resurrection of Jesus.
The survey also suggested that:
·         17% of all people believe the Bible version word-for-word (not me)
·         31% of Christians believe word-for-word the Bible version (not me), rising to 57% among "active" Christians (those who go to a religious service at least once a month, as I do)(not me)
·         Exactly half of all people surveyed did not believe in the resurrection at all (not me)
·         46% of people say they believe in some form of life after death (not me) and 46% do not (me)
So, I’m not alone.
I appreciate that I could be accused (with some justification) that I ‘cherry-pick’ what I believe in. But what I find really difficult is being ‘told’ by some leaders of our church communities what my faith should consist of – with, apparently, no room for doubt. Effectively, the message seems to be: “this is what the Bible says, so it must be true (or pretty close)… and if you’re not prepared to accept this, then you can’t really call yourself a Christian”. They might not think that’s what they’re regularly telling me, but that’s message that I receive and/or perceive.
Over the course of Lent 2024, I’ve been continuing my faith exploration. I’ve been reading Rowan Williams’s Easter sermons from his time as Archbishop of Canterbury 2002-12 (book: ‘Choose Life’). I regard Williams as someone worth listening to/reading, but even he says things that I find difficult to accept.
He refers to the Acts of the Apostles, where we are told “God raised Jesus to life”… If it did happen, how do we know it was down to God? Williams goes on to refer to the things Peter, John and Mary Magdalene witnessed on Easter morning (which I can accept), but then continues with the words: “When the universe began, prompted by the will and act of God…”. Again, I would ask how do we know this was down to God?
In another of the sermons, Williams refers to Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians where Paul says “that we shall die and that we shall be raised as Jesus was raised”.
Really? Is this based on something that was, some considerable time later, promised in the Bible?
Obviously, it all comes down to faith… but perhaps it’s just a case of “me of little faith”?
The other book I’ve been using this Lent is Alain de Botton’s book ‘Religion for Atheists’. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t consider myself to be an atheist – but Rowan Williams did actually refer to the book in one of his Easter sermons. I duly bought myself a copy and found it surprisingly helpful, optimistic and illuminating. I won’t go into academic detail here, but the chapter headings give a sense of what is discussed: Wisdom without Doctrine; Community; Kindness; Education; Tenderness; Pessimism; Perspective; Art; Architecture and Institutions.
I’m not a mad keen follower of Rob Bell, but I have found his writing incredibly thought-provoking and relevant (for me, at least). Take this passage from his book ‘Velvet Elvis’ (which, in many ways, touches on the things included in Alain de Botton’s book):
As a Christian, I am simply trying to orient myself around living a particular kind of way, the kind of way that Jesus taught is possible. And I think that the way of Jesus is the best possible way to live.
This isn’t irrational or primitive or blind faith. It is merely being honest that we are living a ‘way’.
I’m convinced being generous is a better way to live.
I’m convinced forgiving people and not carrying around bitterness is a better way to live.
I’m convinced having compassion is a better way to live.
I’m convinced pursuing peace in every situation is a better way to live.
I’m convinced listening to the wisdom of others is a better way to live.
I’m convinced being honest with people is a better way to live.
I would say ‘Amen’ to that.
 
I am an early riser. I’m usually up by 5am.
At various times in my life, I might have used this time for prayer and/or reading daily reflections/Bible passages.
I no longer do such things.
I can no longer be bothered.
And yet, since moving house, I now frequently find myself in my ‘Thinking Seat’ staring out of the window at the dawn of a new day.
It’s something of a magical time.
Maybe this is part of the journey to rediscover my faith?
“Caught by the light of some small heaven” (as my good friend Ian has described it) perhaps?
Who knows?… I’ll keep searching.

perfect days…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Wim Wenders’s film ‘Perfect Days’. On the face of it, the film’s subject matter is pretty uninspiring (understatement!) – it features the solitary life of a 60-something Tokyo public toilet cleaner, Hirayama (played by the rather wonderful Kōji Yakusho). Every day is the same. He lives in a frugal apartment; he puts on his overalls; he takes a can of coffee from a street vending machine; he drives to work in his modest little van; he works diligently and with a sense of pride; he exchanges words with very few people; most just don’t notice him…
It all seems pretty bleak… and yet the film proved to be entirely the opposite.
Hirayama finds quiet joy in the world around him… in the apparently insignificant things… the sunlight through the trees (and the trees themselves)… taking time to pause and take in the tiny details. His life is full of routine… he regularly takes his lunch breaks in a small landscaped square; after work, Hirayama he often bathes at a public bathhouse; he dines at a casual restaurant in a subway mall where he’s greeted as a regular; he often goes to the budget section of the local second-hand bookshop; he carefully rescues fragile Japanese maple seedlings and nurtures them in his apartment; he has an old point-and-shoot camera with which he captures the things that please him. All small, but important interactions. We all have the ability to look, but how many of us actually see?
Essentially, this achingly lovely film is an argument in favour of an alternative way of being… and I think we could all do with learning such a lesson.
I thought it was a rather wonderful, heart-warming, uplifting film and I think you should see it for yourself.
PS: And, as a bonus, Hirayama chooses to listen to 60s and 70s American and British rock songs (on cassette tapes), driving in his van, from the likes of the Velvet Underground, the Kinks, Otis Redding, Patti Smith, Nina Simone and Lou Reed.
PPS: The rather beautiful public toilets are film stars in their own right! 

february 2024 books…

So Late In The Day (Claire Keegan): Since publishing her first book in 1999, Keegan’s total work to date amounts to just five books - running to just 700 pages and some 140,000 words. In an interview for the Guardian (last September), she said: “I love to see prose being written economically… elegance is saying just enough. And I do believe that the reader completes the story.” Well, as long as you can write like Keegan, I absolutely agree. This short story follows
Cathal, a civil servant in Dublin on a summer Friday. He’s sad as he reflects on his relationship with a woman, Sabine. Gradually, we become aware that Sabine was his fiancée but that she has now left him… essentially it seems because of his attitude towards women and marriage in general. We start off feeling a little sorry for Cathal and there are occasional glimmers of awareness; his work colleagues seem worried about him and his boss encourages him to go home early. There are occasional glimmers of self-awareness, but does he fully comprehend the depth of his failure and the need to change? Keegan reveals all this in a quiet, beautifully subtle way… and, finally, the reader understands the significance of the day.
Joe Country (Mick Herron): This is the second of Herron’s ‘Slough House Thrillers’ I’ve read (it’s actually the 7^th in a series of 8, so far… I’d previously read the 1st). These novels are essentially all about British espionage; they’re clever, detailed and intriguing but, for me (and I readily acknowledge that I might be the exception), they were just TOO clever and complex. For a start, I felt there were far too many characters (and, confusingly for me, some of them were referred to by ‘other’ names or nicknames?)(would I have found things easier if I’d read books 2-6?)… I longed for a descriptive list of characters attached to the book’s inside cover – so I could keep being reminded who they all were. The novel was full of ‘spy shorthand’ (Herron trying to show off his apparent in-depth knowledge of the world of political intrigue and shadowy organisations?). It took me a long time (some 150 pages?) to get my head around stuff and, even then, I felt my level of intelligence was constantly letting me down! It’s quite a long book (nearly 350 pages) and, although I did eventually ‘get into it’ – one of the story plots involves some of the Slough House ‘crew’ being dispatched to eliminate a man responsible for killing a crew member - I really longed to finish it and start something new. Sorry!
A Room With A View (EM Forster): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1908). Strangely, although I’ve read a number of Forster’s books, I’d not previously read this one… and I really enjoyed it. It’s been described as a ‘social comedy’ – with English middle-classes holidaying in Florence… it’s about a young woman who finds her senses awakened by her experiences in Italy – her stifling Victorian propriety (personified in her pretentious fiancé) being eventually overridden by un-English passion. In Italy, she discovers life and marks her journey from adolescence to adulthood. I think all young people should experience Italy early in life! Our bookgroup is combining its discussion with a viewing of the film at 20th Century Flicks on Christmas Steps (and a visit to a local pub!).
Choose Life (Rowan Williams): The book consists of a series of Christmas and Easter sermons given during his time as Archbishop of Canterbury (2002-2012). I used the Christmas series for reflection during Advent 2023 and now for Lent 2024. Williams is someone whose wise views and reflections I’ve found helpful in the past… and, given my ongoing journey in the spiritual wilderness, hoped that these Easter sermons would prove beneficial. Well, in all honesty (and perhaps no surprises here!), I found them helpful, insightful and yet also somewhat frustrating. I frequently found myself questioning matters that Williams clearly felt were taken as read (but perhaps that’s just me in my current ‘mindset’?). I finished reading the sermons half way through Lent – on the basis that I wanted to read a second faith-related book before Easter (on which I hope to post some thoughts next month?). It’s somewhat sobering to realise that these sermons - from more than 10 years ago – frequently refer to wars, environmental concerns and financial crises. Nothing has changed… they only seem to have considerably worsened.
Walk The Blue Fields (Claire Keegan): As you will appreciate if you’ve been reading any of my recent book ‘reviews’, I’ve latterly become a huge fan of Keegan’s writing. This collection of short stories (first published in 2007) – mainly set in Ireland – represent yet more proof of her beautifully-crafted writing abilities, her use of language and her skill as a brilliant story-teller. I read each of the stories quite slowly (and often out loud to myself) and found them captivating, thought-provoking, imaginative, frequently funny and utterly mesmerising. You won’t be surprised to learn that I have yet another book of her stories on my bedside table!

living with nature and uncertainty…

Somewhat ridiculously, I watched two television documentaries a couple of days ago, back-to-back (I know… some people have to go to work!).
If you didn’t get a chance to see the BBC’s “The Great Mountain Sheep Gather” programme (first shown in 2020), it’s currently back on iPlayer and well worth watching. It’s a 100minute documentary about sheep farming on Scafell Pike, England’s tallest mountain. Every summer, half a dozen shepherds and perhaps 20 sheepdogs gather a flock of 500 native Hardwick sheep from some 1,200 acres(?) and bring them down the mountain to the farm for shearing. It’s an event that has taken place in the Lake District for over a thousand years. It’s a humbling account, seen through the eyes of Lakeland shepherd Andrew Harrison – the knowledge of the dogs, farmers and sheep passed down from generation to generation for centuries, the challenges of life in the fells, and the conflict posed by visitors and the 21st century… Some of the smaller farms have been sold and the farmhouses converted to holiday homes. There are less and less experienced farmers and shepherds remaining to pass on knowledge acquired over generations. Harrison talks movingly of the pride and respect he holds for the land and the privilege of doing what he does.
It’s absolutely mesmerising and quite, quite brilliant.
The second documentary was the first episode of Simon Reeve’s “Wilderness” programme - a journey into the Congo Basin (it’s taken me a long to get down to watching the series)… with its exotic wildlife, awe-inspiring landscapes, and terrifying rise of deforestation. It’s a powerful tale of the importance of conservation. Reeve and his ranger/conservationist guide
canoe along the Motaba River, before trudging through thick vegetation to meet the nomadic Baka (an indigenous people with very limited interaction with the western world). Reeve and his guide are warmly welcomed and the women of the village immediately proceed to construct impressive, elaborate huts to accommodate their overnight guests.
In the morning, they’re taken by the men in the village to gather honey. Like every Baka hunting haul, the treasure is, instinctively, equally shared. A telling remark from Reeve’s guide (“They take what they need, not what they want”) stayed with me long after the programme had ended.
Another hugely impressive insight into another world.
Of course, the two documentaries are very different – about lives on different continents and in very different circumstances – but there was something of a humbling connection between them… about how people live off the land with skills and knowledge passed down from generation to generation… and yet both with uncertainty about what the future had in store for the generations to come.

the zone of interest…

I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Jonathan Glazer’s film “The Zone of Interest”. It proved to be a tough, but very impressive watch.
The film focuses on the world of the true-life Nazi commandant of Auschwitz, Rudolf Höss (played by Christian Friedel), and his wife, Hedwig (Sandra Hüller) – both brilliant performances – and their five children. They live immediately next door to the death camp (which appears in the film merely glimpsed over the walls of their well-tended garden)… so it’s only the constant smoke and the film’s scary soundscape that gives a hint of the horrors that are taking place there.
The Höss family live a wholesome, idyllic life – enjoying the beauty of nature, swimming in a nearby lake, sunbathing in the long grass - but, every now and then, you’re hit by some horrific revelation… such as Hedwig picking out an expensive fur coat once owned by one the camp inmates or one their sons counting gold teeth (pulled from inmates) in bed in the middle of the night or another of the sons locking a brother in the greenhouse and making the noise of incoming gas for fun.
When Rudolf is transferred from Auschwitz to Oranienburg, Hedwig insists on staying in her dream house… but, in due course, the Nazi hierarchy decides that the number of camp deaths needs to drastically increase and Höss is re-called back to Auschwitz. In the phonecall to his wife announcing the decision, he talks about ‘murder’ without softening the language… but his words barely register with Hedwig, she just moans that it’s the middle of the night and that she needs to get back to bed.
In a film review by blogger Robert Daniels (isn’t the internet wonderful!), he says this: “Because how we remember history, how we make note of current events—through propaganda, photography, video, and the internet—is a constant interplay between the truth as it exists and as it has been edited. The fact that ‘The Zone of Interest’ arrives now, as world powers manipulate the narrative to sanitize their crimes, makes Glazer's images all the more chilling”. Let that sink in.
I think I’ll leave things there… there’s so much more I could add, but I think it’s a film you need to see you for yourself.
It’s a bruising, painful, brilliant film… and the sense of what’s happening behind the walls never leaves you. It’s one of those films that will stay with you for some time. 

january/february 2024 books…

Two Years Indoors (TeamSP): This is a book which tracks the Covid-related government actions, restrictions and decisions over a two-year period (January 2020-February 2022). Rather like the Blurb books I produced at the time (March 2020-March 2021), this book provides a fascinating and stark reminder of what we all went through. Not exactly bedtime reading, but hey!
The Forester’s Daughter (Claire Keegan): Keegan is my new favourite author! Her novella “Small Things Like These” was one of my favourite books of 2023 and this short-story is the second book of hers I’ve read this year. It tells of an Irish farmer-cum-forester (Victor) living in the heart of the Wicklow countryside… with his wife (Martha), ‘three teenagers, the milking and the mortgage’. The marriage followed a year of persistent courting… but it’s an unhappy marriage. One day, Victor stumbles across a gun dog, which he brings home and gives to his youngest daughter for her twelfth birthday. Martha is fearful/apprehensive… “The evening is fine. In the sky a few early stars are shining of their own accord. She watches the dog licking the bowl clean. This dog will break her daughters heart, she sure of it”. Keegan is a simply wonderful, mesmerising story-teller and this is a rather wonderful, poignant tale.
Politics, But Better (Tatton Spiller): This is the third Spiller book I’ve read this year. The cover claims it as “an A-Z guide to creating a more hopeful future” (my goodness, how we need some hopeful pointers these days!). But, for me, this book really didn’t do much to make me hopeful. Yes, Spiller talked a fair amount of sense (but, frankly, so I do I quite a lot of the time!), but it was hardly ground-breaking stuff and, inevitably perhaps, there were huge areas that he didn’t cover. I found it all somewhat disappointing (and, frankly, a bit boring!).
On Photography (Susan Sontag): This book, first published in 1977, is our latest Bloke’s Books selection. It takes the form of seven essays – with LOTS of references to lots of people I’d never heard of and lots of photographs that I had no knowledge of (not all that surprising!). For me, the key and obvious criticism about the book is that it didn’t contain a SINGLE photograph!! Quite, quite ridiculous. Sontag was clearly a gifted academic and, no doubt the likes of John Berger would disagree with me(!!), but I’m afraid I felt that it read a bit like a verbose student might write in order to impress their examiners – clogged full with quotations and references (but much somewhat out of context and not particularly interesting).
I thought the most noteworthy thing that arose from reading the book was that, because it was written before digital photography, the internet and the like, it absolutely highlighted how VERY different things had become in a matter of the last 50 years – the manipulation of images, photoshop, smartphones, edited/cropped images, fake images/AI etc. I love photography but I’m afraid I found this book quite boring.
Driving Over Lemons (Chris Stewart): I first read this book 14 years’ ago (it was first published in 1999). It tells the story of the author and his wife setting up home in a remote, dilapidated, peasant farm in the mountains of Andalucia, Spain – virtually on a whim, with no farming experience and little in the way of practical know-how. The scenery is clearly stunning; making a living is pretty tough, but the local characters are hilarious and endearing (even though some are a bit scary!); there’s an amazing sense of community – with people prepared to help each other. It’s funny, optimistic, beautifully-written and has a refreshing innocence. I have absolutely no desire to emulate him, but I found it absolutely enchanting… and I loved it just as much (if not more?) the second time around.

john martyn project…

I can’t quite believe that British singer-songwriter John Martyn died as long ago as 2009. I first came across him shortly after we came to Bristol in 2003 – thanks to the recommendation from my great mate Si Smith. I got to know his music pretty well - although, sadly, I never got to attend one of his concerts.
So, last night’s gig at St George’s felt both appropriate and important (for me) – even though it obviously couldn’t be a substitute for the man himself – and it was spectacularly good.
This special project was started in 2018 when six musicians (Blythe Pepino, Kit Hawes, Pete Josef, Sam Brookes, John Blakeley and Jon Short) came together to celebrate the music of John Martyn at the Camden Jazz Café. The sell-out show inspired the group to take the project on tour around the UK and mainland Europe… as well as bringing Martyn’s music back to the festival circuit.
Last night’s show was also a sell-out… and rightly so. Each of the band members were wonderful in their own right (and I loved that Blythe Pepino sang some songs from her armchair!). They performed altogether, but often just two or three would join up for particular songs (Martyn’s music ‘catalogue’ of 23/24 albums meant there was lots to choose from!).
Fittingly, for their encore, the six of them stood together at the front of the stage and sang the Martyn classic ‘Over The Hill’ – and the entire audience joined in (beautifully!). Quite a wonderful end to a brilliant evening.
Photos: Some quick photographs from the evening (apologies that I managed to decapitate a couple of band members!).