6. Cafe Rene, Gloucester

Writing From Peppers Cafe in Gloucester.

Left London yesterday. Driving in the Spring Sun and picking up the traffic around five, nearing Cheltenham, I began to feel very tired ( I was up at 5.30am) and felt I could sleep.  I pulled of the road for a cup of tea at a sign saying 'Thirteenth Century Pub on the river' at Little Barrington . It's a very pretty little village and I gulp the tea down, watching the stream drift away as the Sun sinks low behind me. 

Gradually the momentum of travelling subsides and I begin to notice the evening birdsong.  The quiet has a reviving effect and soon I am able to continue anew.

I stop briefly on the way back to the A40 to get a picture of the village.  Just then an owl flies silently up the valley towards where I sit in the car.
I drive through beautiful country into the setting Sun, the sky becoming an ever deepening shade of purple pink.

On entering Gloucester I notice an array of lovely spires silhouetted against the darkening sky. There is the merest sliver of the newest of moons and I have a growing feeling that I will be staying here tonight despite having planned to stay near Oxford.  Asking for directions, I am invited to follow a local in his car to the venue.

Cafe Rene, I discover, is set back through a stone archway in a mediaeval courtyard with ancient yew trees, adjacent to Old St Mary's Church. The atmosphere is enchanting, there is even a well inside the bar area.

I investigate an Hotel very near, they say that it's Cheltenham Festival and all prices have quadrupled but as I'm playing at Cafe Rene they can do a deal. It's all too inviting and I find myself happily accommodated; with a short journey the next day, to play at Bromsgrove, and the opportunity to wander around Gloucester.

Back at the bar there is no stage as such. Matt, the barman sets up a small PA on the floor in the room.  I encounter an interesting character, Neil.  I don't think he works here but he explains that Matt will set up the PA, that I will be playing against the wall opposite the bar, he wants to be helpful and asks if I have anything to carry.  The staff regard him with compassionate affection, clearly he is a regular, doesn't seem to drink but eats copious amounts of peanuts.  He speaks as if he has a handicap of some kind.  He hovers around interestedly awaiting an opportunity to be of assistance. Later, during my set I ask the bar for a pint of Guinness. Neil brings it to me, He stands in front of me holding it while I am half way through 'Hold On To Your Hat'  I have to say in between verses "thanks Neil, Just put it on the table"
I am playing, at any one time, to about five or six  interested listeners in an otherwise noisy, though sparse gathering. Apparently, but for The Cheltenham Festival,  Wednesday nights here are packed out.

My mood is one of disillusionment, the best part of my work lies hidden in subtleties, perhaps in a turn of phrase or an unusual chord change, seemingly impossible to get across in these conditions, but I press on.  I notice someone has left some money and bought a CD. Two gentlemen right in front of me on a table stop their chat to listen periodically, at half time one buys a CD and a chap from the opposite end of the room, who sits alone having dinner and a bottle of red comes up and says he is enjoying the music.  during the second half I sing lullabies and see him fast asleep.

People drift in and out, at one point, after a song Neil shouts out "now there are only  two people clapping" he is one of them. I notice he is perhaps the most attentive to the music, always in time with his hand or foot and knowing the song is about to finish before it has. I'm glad he is here.

A group of three come in from the Cheltenham races, their conversation is very loud and I feel for the three I haven't mentioned, who have been attentive from the beginning, sat in random places in the bar but later, during 'We All Fall Down' the Cheltenham Three are silent , standing open mouthed, one comes up at the end and buys a CD.  He says "You've heard of Seasick Steve? Well? What's going on? You're better than him and he's probably a millionaire by now!" He says that he hears a lot of music up north in Sheffield and sometimes it's good but tonight, here, he says it was exceptional.