It's My Party...

Tuesday 9 December
Palolem Beach, Goa

So as Evan and I had booked our train tickets to go to the ashram already, we knew that I wouldn't be able to play another open mike night before I left. Luckily old David spoke to one of the organisers of these things and managed to convince him to put on a special show just for us today at our local restaurant.

However, that was yesterday and now it was today, and no one seemed to be sure if it was going ahead. We didn't see the guy all day, there was no sign outside the restaurant (we were going to have a sign saying “Charlie's Party” though maybe leaving out the “s”) and the party existed in a state of Schroedinger-like uncertainty for most of the day.

For my part, I took it easy and did my usual relax and sun tan routine. As I come back to my hut as the sun is going down Evan tells me that it's not happening. Oh well. I shower and make myself look pretty for the evening. I head back out to the restaurant and lo and behold, the guy who's organising it is there with his guitars and we're back on!

Tom, one of the guys who runs the restaurant, tells me he will dig a hole for a bonfire and we can arrange the tables around it once people have finished eating. Spookily, that's exactly what happens. Meanwhile I still have heartburn from the previous night. To rid myself of it I usually drink milk and eat plain bread. But the milk here is hit and miss. Usually I only drink black tea abroad as the milk usually ruins it. But I go for broke and luckily it's OK. Well, for the first three glasses anyway. The fourth one that I order is I think some sort of ghee or something similar, so I force it down and leave it at that.

So anyway we all sit around: me, Evan, Old Dave from Scunthorpe, James from Birmingham, young Dave (who's 30) from Gloucestershire, Pat, Tristra and Jamie the Canadian girls, and Lucy from Teddington. As well as us there's a handful of other people, including the token Russian girl who's friendly with a local.

We sit around and me and young Dave play a whole bunch of songs, so many I can't remember. However I do play the set list I was going to play on Sunday, which consists of Where Is My Mind, Made of Stone, Gin Soaked Boy, Baby One More Time, The One I Love and There Is a Light That Never Goes Out. I've never played Gin Soaked Boy before and I didn't even have time to practice, so I sight-read it. Luckily after one false start I was in the swing of things and did it justice. It went down well and Old Dave actually knew the song. I slip out Let It Come Down Gently and Brick Lane as well, and young Dave is particularly a fan of the first one.

Old Dave even gets up to do some poetry, two of his and two of other people's. His ones are the better ones. We play and we play and the organiser guy plays too, and then after a good while we're too tired to play any more, and it's time for bed.