All the way down to the South coast on the Friday night of a Bank Holiday weekend... what could have been traffic hell actually wasn't too bad, and we even found the place easily too.
The Stepping Stones is a huge great sprawling pub with acres of space to play with, which I was particularly chuffed by as it gave me a chance to wander around unencumbered by trailing leads, thanks to my new wireless rig. The rest of the band glowered jealously as I skipped merrily around the back of the room, wishing I had a trio of husky roadies & a surfboard... they'll all be getting one, now.
The downside of this ability to mix with the audience is that, well, you have to mix with the audience. As we tried to soundcheck, I was subpoenaed as an expert witness by a ruddy-faced all-day drinker who'd bought what he thought was a little guitar for his son, only to be told by his slurring companion it was a ukelele. One look at his popping eyes, dodgy tatts & general air of a man who could explode into violence made me very glad that it was, in fact, a tiny guitar...
Not a bad gig all in all - good sound, lots of room, and a very friendly ex-punk landlord, but a bit dispiriting going all that way to play for a couple of dozen people, so I doubt it'll become a regular fixture.
