What could possibly go wrong. Surely nothing.
Well, it turns out it’s all about perception: for me it’s a nervewracking, slightly surreal prospect; for everyone else, it’s some bloke singing in a bar.
TONIGHT: Bar No. 10, East Street, Bridport about 9.00 pm.
And here, purely because I just found it again, is a photograph of my brother Joe and I in New York (in America – you must know). We were both there separately for ‘work’ and bumped into each other near a café. All my early experiences of flying were with newspapers sending me. It was only when my wife and I booked our only real holiday abroad that I realised you had to pay for tickets yourself.
I can recommend ‘cloud cuckoo land’ as a fine destination.