Amitié

Bonjour à tous. Après dix jours et nuits d'immersion à la culture québécoise de Montréal, j’essaie d'écrire un petit blog entièrement en français. Pourquoi? Peut-être pour mes amis ici et à la France, peut-être pour mes amies russes qui comprennent la français plus que l'anglais, peut-être pour moi, pour quelque chose à faire comme je m'assis au Benelux en attendant mon vol à l'Angleterre ce soir. C'est difficile pour moi, mais au moins mon écriture m’arrête de m'endormir au mon petit coin ici. J'espère que il n'y a pas trop des erreurs.

Je voudrai offrir mes grands mercis à toutes mes amis et amies ici à Montréal, parce que sans amitié je ne serais pas ici, à La Belle Province. Je suis ici pour la quatrième fois, et chaque fois j'ai trouvé plus en plus d'amitié et amis. Pour commencer, il y avait Louise et Sylvain, mes amis forts qui m'ont fait si bienvenue au printemps de 2008, et chaque fois depuis. Ils ont changé ma vie, et je serai toujours reconnaissante. Sans l'aide de Louise, je n'écrirais jamais à Luce, et puis alors, je ne viendrais jamais à Montréal. Cette première fois, il n'y a que trois jours, et le spectacle de Luce Dufault à Ste.Hyacinthe.

La deuxième fois,(novembre 2009) seize spectacles et un jeu d'hockey pendant douze jours. De ces jours fous, j'ai pris avec moi chez moi un grand amour pour la musique francophone de Québec, et de Manitoba aussi, et un plus pour les Habs! Mon tête était pleine des chansons de Geneviève Toupin, Les Surveillantes, Elisapie Isaac, Les Frères Rivaux, Luc de Larochellière, Damien Robitaille, Bruno Pelletier, Patrick Norman, Amèlie, et des blues du Bistro à Jojo. C'était là, au spectacle de Jean Millaire et André Duprée que j'ai vu, par hasard. pour la première fois un blues guitariste québécoix sans pareil – Steve Hill. Et à cause de Steve, j'ai vu Eric Lapointe, Marjo et Yves Lambert en spectacle aussi. (Une sélection de la musique assez éclectique, je crois). Et je crois que , peut- être, j'ai vu Dick Dale au même spectacle.

Et puis, l'année prochaine, c'était à cause de Steve Hill que j'ai mon premier rencontre avec ses fans plus fidèles, Johanne, Colombe, Michel, Barbara, Eric et Lucille. J'ai reçu une bienvenue incroyable. Et j'avais, et j'ai des ami/es très spéciales. Cette année j'ai passé des bonnes heures avec Johanne, Michel and Colombe, et a aussi recontré deux autres 'maniaques' - Palmyre et Martine.

Et je ne dois pas oublier 'Les MontRealers', cet groupe des enthousiastes de la bière, qui on peut trouver chaque jeudi soirée au Benelux, là pour dégouter un cask ale et parler au sujet de leur grand amour – la bière. Tico, Patrick, Scott, Becky, Sean et les autres. Ah en parlant du Benelux, mon amie la plus récente de Facebook, Carmelina, qui travaille derrière le bar, et qui sait beaucoup, beaucoup au sujet des bières. Et sa 'room-mate' Corinne, qui a donnée de sa temps, pour parler avec moi, le vieux au bar, pour deux heures.

Mais la musique francophone de Québec et Manitoba a me donné les ami/es d'ailleurs, pas juste ici à Québec. Il y a Catherine et Alain, qui j'ai rencontré au Le Festival de chanson francophone de l'Amérique nord - 'Aah Les Déferlantes' à Portes-les-Valence, Drome, France.

Et... pas juste en France. J'ai mes deux jeune amies très précieuses russes, Daria et Iraida, qui adorent la musique de Québec, et en particulière leurs artistes préférées, Luce Dufault et Bruno Pelletier! Elles sont comme membres de ma famille, et bien sur de ma famille en musique.

Et voilà, je suis privilegé d'avoir toutes ces amis merveilleux, et à l'instant, comme je m'assis à la porte 59, en attendant le vol BA94 à Londres, je voudrais vous dire, que je suis si contente de vous avoir comme mes amis. Et en plus, je veux que Luce sache comment elle a changée ma vie. Sans elle, et sa voix unique mon univers serait très différent, je crois.

Chaque fois que je viens à Montréal, je pense que c'est la dernière fois. J'espère non!

Paysanne Poison, a super sample at Benelux and Luc de LaRochellière, Andrea Lindsay, Sophie Beaudet in concert

So Wednesday was supposed to be another quiet day, just one day to blog and nothing firmly fixed for the evening. I had a Skype chat with Iraida and managed to send her the photos and vidos I had taken at Catherine Major's launch the evening before. 

Then I went in search of breakfast. On Tuesday I had decided that instead of going to the very large food hall in Complexe Desjardins, I would try a patisserie/boulangerie which is in the 'tunnel' between the Complexe and Place Des Arts. I had walked past it a few times in the last three trips, and everything looked delicious, just like similar shops in France. The fact that they sold salads too had tipped the balance in its favour. I've eaten too many burgers and similar in the food hall, so I decided to have a Salade d'Oceane (a tuna salad to us anglophones and a beautiful looking strawberry sponge sandwichy type thing.

“A beautiful looking strawberry sponge sandwichy type thing?” That would look good on the little descriptive label stuck in the top of it!

Well, to be more accurate, it was a three-layered creation, the lowest and uppermost layers being a delicate melt-in-the-mouth sponge, with the middle layer being of a firm, but creamy consistency, and containing large pieces of strawberry. The upper layer was further covered by a pink, strawberry-flavoured icing. Is that OK?

Excuse me whilst I wipe the dribbles from my chin.

I also bought a coffee. First decision – size. Petit, moyen ou grand? It's always a bit difficult to choose before actually seeing the size of the container into which the coffee will be dispensed. The lady serving clearly spotted my uncertainty, and proceeded to demonstrate with a mime fully supplemented by verbal description. Bare in mind that this demo was not in English, but for the seeming minority of people reading this (more of that later), it is reproduced in that language.

“So, sir, this is the small size.” (Flourishes cardboard container, smallish and squattish)

“And this is the medium and large size.” (Flourishes taller, but more slender coffee carton, if carton is the word, but you know what I mean.)

The medium and the large size?

Exactly! The demonstration continued:

“If you would like a medium size, sir, we will fill the container to this level. (Tips container towards me and points at an unmarked level inside it.)

“But, if you would prefer the large size, sir, we will,” she said triumphantly, “fill it to here!” (pointing to a another imaginary level within the container, but obviously nearer to the top.)

“Le moyen, s'il vous plait, madame, but take care, I'll be checking on that level.”

You didn't actually say that last bit did you?

No. So that was on Tuesday. The salad, cake and coffee were very nice, so yesterday I repeated the process, except that this time I chose a Salade Paysanne, which was turkey breast with salad, a chausson des pommes (apple turnover) and a moyen cafe voluté.

I ate the chausson and drank the coffee before engaging in a video chat with Iraida – sadly Daria and Jane could not join us.

Then it was time for the salad. I removed it from the fridge and carefully removed the lid. Yuck, and double yuck!

That's Yuck, Yuck, Yuck!

Indeed it is. The salad, or more specifically the meat smelled absolutely putrid. Could it be me?

You'd just had a shower hadn't you?

I didn't mean that. Could my sense of smell somehow betrayed me? No, there was no doubt, this turkey had seen better days.

I'm sure of that. Playing with his/her friends in a country farmyard, with the sun shining down from above him/her and the sound of the gentle breeze in the tree-tops, and the gurgling stream nearby making nature's music.

No I just meant it was off!

Normally I'm not one to complain, and it did mean going back to Place des Arts and confronting someone in québecoix, but girding up my loins and replacing the lid on the salad, lest I infect half the population of Montreal with airborne bacteria from a putrid turkey, I ventured forth.

You know the 'girded up my loins' bit. You hadn't been sitting about with no trousers on again, had you?

No that was just a biblical turn of phrase, meaning I got myself ready for the fray.

Ten minutes later I was standing in the queue at the patisserie/boulangerie. It was a different youn lady behind the counter, but the one who had served earlier was there. After five minutes waiting... (I don't mind waiting, as I've told you before, and customes in patisseries/boulangeries aren't to be hurried. There are decisions to be made.) …. it was my turn:

“Good day, madame. I bought this salad earlier from your colleague there, and I believe that there may be something wrong with it.” Notice how polite I sound when I try to speak in québecois French!

The young lady took the salad from me, opened the lid and sniffed.

“No sir, that is perfect. That is how it is supposed to smell. I have just eaten one of these myself.”

“Well I would prepare yourself for the worst, darling, because you ain't gonna be feeling so good in a few hours!”

You didn't really say that, did you?

No. I just exclaimed incredulously: “Really? Well I am certainly not going to et this one.”

Get in. Proud of you!

“Just wait a moment sir.” At this point she went into a small hidden area to the side of the counter and spoke with someone, holding up the offensive..

Don't you mean 'offending'?

Both. ...salade. Whether the other person had a weaker stomach, I do not know, but on returning to the counter the assistant said:

“Sorry, sir. Do you have your receipt.”

“I am afraid not, I left it on the in the little box for unwanted receipts, just next to the little box for tips.”

Get in my son! Liked the clever reference to the little box for tips, hinting that there wasn't going to be one forthcoming this time!

"If it pleases you, sir, would you like to choose something to replace the salad?"

"Well, er, yes. I'll have a quiche lorraine please."

"Heated up?"

"No, just cold, thank you."

"And would you care to choose something else sir?"

"Er.. a Danish pastry with raspberries, please."

"Anything else sir?"

"No, that is enough thank-you."

"And something to drink sir?"

"A medium coffee, mild, if it pleases you."

"Thank you sir. I am very sorry, and have a good day."

So clutching my paper bags containing the commestibles and moyen café voluté, I made my way back to the hotel. On my way back I popped in to Benelux.

Good grief, this is becoming a too frequent occurrence.

Not for a drink, just to see if one of the brewers, Teklad Pavisian, better known as Tico was there. Tico had introduced me to a group of ale enthusiasts last year, and I wanted to give him a T-shirt from our Sunderland and South Tyneside Octoberfest Beer Festival, which was just a couple of weeks ago – wow, it seems like months ago. I walked in and was pleased to see him talking to a group near the bar. We had a chat, and before going to fetch the T-shirt, I was offered a sip from what remained at the bottom of a stemmed beer glass. The contents, he explained, were from an experimental brew, which contained some amazing additions, but which more importantly had been resting in an old cognac barrel. After the sipped liquid assaulted my taste buds it moved on down, warming as it went. Oh boy! There had been no gas added to the cask as yet,and they were thinking about serving it as a cask ale. Amen to that, and served in small glasses I would think, because it had started out at 10%, but was likely to be somewhat stronger when ready.

I went back to the hotel, put my replacement food in the fridge, drank some coffee and took the T-shirts back to Benelux.

T-shirts. I thought you said T-shirt?

I did, but I brought two, and I had decided on Saturday evening to give one to Carmellina, for her act of kindness in offering me that glass of barley wine, and as a kind of appreciative apology for not drinking it all. I gave Tico the shirts, and explained the image on the back, which is a picture of Lord Lambton slaying the Lambton Worm, a mythical creature which terrorised a local neighbourhood several centuries ago. I could sing the song about it...

But you haven't got time!!

...well, yes, but they wouldn't be able to hear it anyway, would they? Anyway, Tico offered me a beer, and it would be churlish to refuse. I had brought the netbook with me to write Tuesday's blog, and with a glass of Pollux rauchbier, (a smoky flavoured beer at about 4.7% I seem to remember.) I settled down to write at a table in the window.

Funny how you can remember that but you couldn't remember Suzanne Vega's name on Tuesday evening.

I had just just finished the blog and was about to upload some photos and videos when someone loomed up on the other side of the table. It was Scott, one of the Montrealers / Montrealalers – I must check on the correct name late today. I had met Scott and his wife Becky in the Benelux last year, and by freakish coincidence had met them walking up Bvd St.Laurent the following day. We chatted and Scott had apologised to me that Becky wouldn't be able to make it to the planned reunion on Thursday (Cask evening at Benelux). It was a very pleasant surprise when who should walk in but Becky. We had time for a little chat before I had to leave. I have forgotten to tell you that on my first food forage of the day I had also called in at La Vitrine, the cultural information centre, and managed to get a ticket to see Luc de Larochellière, Andrea Lindsay and Sophie Beaudet in concert at Monument-National. I wasn't sure where this was, so before I left Becky and Scott checked on their phone to find the location. Not too far, in the slightly run down section of bvd St.Lauren near Club Soda and amidst a plethora of strip clubs and similar establishments.

Oh yes, and how did you know that? Ay, Ay, nudge, nudge say no more!

I've been to Club Soda on previous occasions, and had noticed them that's all. Actually it's a pretty depressing street, and I don't just mean those establishments, but the smell of decaying buildings which pervades the atmosphere as you walk down the street. I't's quite unpleasant.

I got to the Scene Financière Sun Life at the Theatre Monument-National after a ten-minute walk from the hotel, and found my way to my seat. This wasn't a large auditorium but was a performance apace in what must have once been part of the entrance to the theatre. As eight o clock arrived a gentleman appeared on the stage to introduce the evening's entertainment. Normally, if there are three names on the bill, each artiste will have their own spot, so I had assumed that it would be Sophie Beaudet first, followed by Andrea Lindsay and then Luc de Larochellière. 

But this was to be different, a quite informal and experimental session in which all three artistes would be there together on stage, singing as a trio, in duets or singly with support from the others. It was an excellent evening. I have seen Luc twice before, once in Montréal and once in France, but it was the first time for Andrea and Sophie. It was thoroughly enjoyable. After the show I walked back via a different route to Place des Arts, took some photographs and then returned to the hotel, and bed!

Postscript:

Ah well it seems that I have one reader. Thanks Bill!

Place des Arts, Quartier des Spectacles, Montréal: some images

Le Cinquième Salle: a concert hall

 My hotel is a five minute walk from Place des Arts. I have taken some pictures by day and night of this spectacular part of the city of Montréal.

A fascinating interior roof design

A multi-screen wall media-display installation in Place des Arts

People watching the above displays are reflected up on to the ceiling.

Place des Arts

The Museum of Contemporary Arts

The searchlights are controllable by levers placed beside each light.

The searchlights form constellation like patterns on the low cloud.

One of the controllers and its searchlight.

Monday 17th, Tuesday 18th October: A plea, a pleasure shared and a pleasant conclusion.

Monday 17^th October was a blogging day, the only breaks being for sustenance. It's quite tiring actually, and on returning from Benelux I lay on my bed , switched on TV and began to watch some unknown music programme. I didn't see much of it since I must have fallen asleep almost immediately.

That would be a coincidence, would it: a visit to Benelux and falling asleep?

To tell you the truth I almost fell asleep sitting at the bar, and it wasn't due to alcohol intake . I'm not really used to the mad social whirl that I seem to fall into here. Four late nights had taken their toll. Anyway, when I woke from my 'power-nap' on Monday evening there was one of those shockingly bad TV programs in progress. It was in English with French subtitles, and rejoiced in the name of “Tool Academy”. Quel horreur! It was one of those things you can't really believe are actually in front of your eyes. Twelve horrific individuals, full of their own importance, and believing themselves to be God's gift to the opposite sex, or the same sex in one case took part in a competition. If I had been the producer I would have scuttled their speedboat off Cancun and left them all to drown, or at least to swim to shore through shark-infested waters. Now that might have made for an interesting programme!

And basically, that was Monday. Now Tuesday promised to be different, and the promise was fulfilled.

Just before we move on to Tuesday's events, I have come to the point in writing this blog when I would really like to have an idea of who is reading it. Last year I thought it might only be my labradoodle Barney, and even that last hope was shattered by my daughter Julia who had tested his reading ability and found that he did not even possess the basic phonics required.

There are statistics available to blog writers, which inform me that I have more readers in Russia, Canada and the US than at home in the UK, even though my initial reason for writing it was to let folk back home know what was going on. I believe it is possible to add a comment on the blog page, and it would be nice to know who and where you are. It would be wonderful, therefore if you would take the few seconds required just to add your name or alias, and where you are. You can comment too, if you like.

Juste avant de passer à des événements de mardi, je suis venu au point de la rédaction de ce blog quand je voudrais vraiment avoir une idée de qui est-ce la lecture. L'année dernière, j'ai pensé qu'il pourrait être que mon labrador Barney, et même que le dernier espoir a été brisé par ma fille Julia qui avait testé sa capacité de lecture et a constaté qu'il ne possédait même pas de la phonétique de base nécessaires.

Il y a des statistiques disponibles pour les écrivains blog, qui m'a informer que j'ai plus de lecteurs en Russie, le Canada et les Etats-Unis que chez moi dans le Royaume-Uni, même si ma raison initiale de l'écriture a été de laisser les gens chez moi savent ce qui se passait. Je crois qu'il est possible d'ajouter un commentaire sur la page du blog, et il serait bon de savoir qui et où vous êtes. Ce serait merveilleux, donc si vous prenez les quelques secondes nécessaires juste d'ajouter votre nom ou pseudo, et où vous êtes. Vous pouvez commenter aussi, si vous le souhaitez.

Просто прежде чем мы перейдем к событиям вторника, я пришел к тому моменту написания этого блога, когда я действительно хотел бы иметь представление о том, кто читает это. В прошлом году я думал, что это может быть только моя Labradoodle Барни, и даже то, что последняя надежда была разрушена моя дочь Юлия который проверил его умение читать и обнаружил, что он даже не обладают основными акустики требуется.

Есть статистика доступна в блоге писателей, которые сообщают, что у меня больше читателей в России, Канаде и США, чем на родине в Великобритании, хотя моя первоначальная причина для написания было, чтобы народные домой узнать, что происходит. Я считаю, что можно добавить комментарий к странице блога, и было бы приятно знать, кто и где вы находитесь. Было бы замечательно, поэтому, если вы приняли бы несколько секунд требуется просто добавить свое имя или псевдоним, а где вы находитесь. Вы можете оставить комментарий тоже, если хотите.

Now I was able to edit the Google translation into French, which actually seemed quite inaccurate, but can't in all honesty edit the Russian paragraph. It seems to me to be better than the French effort.

You will notice that I have remained silent throughout this process.

Yes. Should I be surprised?

So now we move on to Tuesday 18^th October, another day which, in reality, did not really start until late afternoon. I was fortunate enough to visit France in March 2011, and more specifically the Aah Les Déferlantes Festival of North American Francophone Song, which took place in Portes-les-Valence, in the Rhone Valley. It was a wonderful week, during which I was privileged to see a stunning collection of artistes, mainly from Québec, Acadie and Manitoba. Some I had been lucky enough to see before here in Montréal: Geneviève Toupin, Damien Robitaille, Les Surveillantes and Luc de Larochelliere. Others were new to me: Richard Desjardins, Gaelle, Danny Boudreau, Suroit et Le Vent du Nord....

I noticed the 'et' crept in there again

and Le Vent du Nord. There is one particular name missing from that list, the name of the person on which this posting will focus: Catherine Major. Having booked tickets to see all of the concerts during the week, and by way of preparation, I had watched videos of Catherine performing, and was very impressed by her singing and artistry at the piano. I was delighted therefore to be able to see her perform twice in one day once in a solo 'showcase' in FNAC in Valence. (FNAC is a bit like our HMV in England) and then later on stage with Mathieu, an outstanding double-bass and electric bass player. For me Catherine's was one of the top four performances of the week. So when I knew I was coming back here to Montréal, I was delighted to read on Facebook that she was to launch her new album “Le désert des solitudes” on 18^th October, and that the launch was to be at l'Astral, a venue just five minutes from my hotel. Initially it seemed that the Facebook event notice was the invitation to attend the launch, but Catherine quickly let her 'followers' know that it was in fact to be a private affair restricted to invited guests. In order that some of her fans could join family, friends, media and music industry guests, she set up a competition which would result in a 'tirage' – a drawing out of names from un chapeau. Twenty lucky winners would each receive two tickets.

My luck in raffles, draws and lotteries is not outstandingly good. I entered the draw, but held out little hope. Now it just happened that a very special resident of St. Denis-sur-Richelieu had asked me about my plans for my stay and when I had mentioned the draw for tickets to see be present at the launch, she had offered to help, if she could. She could, and she did! A telephone call to Miss C.Major's management resulted in two tickets being placed for me at the welcome desk. I think she may be reading this, so thank you again Mme D.

I had invited Michel to come with me, and so at 16.56 we entered l'Astral on rue Ste Catherine and joined other guest as they filed into the auditorium. It was already busy with TV crews setting up their equipment and press photographers milling about with weighty cameras and long lenses, but was packed by 18.00, when the lights dimmed. A space opened up in front of Michel and I, so we advanced! It must have been one of the best vantage points in the room, a fact reinforced by the number of press photographers who later stood in front of us and each other. My tiny Panasonic Lumix was able to zoom past their heads, and so I was able to get some photographs and videos, which I share with you here. Catherine opened by paying tribute to all of those involved in the production of her album and to the musicians on stage. At that point my battery failed, so I had to swiftly replace it The show was not long – only a few songs, but beautiful songs, wonderfully performed by Catherine and her musicians.

It was short, but very sweet! Afterwards we decided to hang about to see if we could get our albums signed, and for me to deliver a special message to Catherine. It may or may not surprise some readers to know that Catherine Major has quite a following in Russia, part of the Russian love-affair with Québec and all things québecoises. So I had been asked, if it was possible, to pass love and greetings from her Russian fans. We waited for a while until she had completed her TV interviews, and had changed from her beautiful red dress into smart, casual.

Very smart, casual!

Oh, you're still here. Yes, very smart, casual. She was talking to someone so we waited patiently, and then she turned, looked at me, and there was a sign of recognition.

You're kidding me!

No, it's true, she recognised me from Valence, not my name, but my face.

Ah yes, once seen, never forgotten.

So we spoke briefly about Valence, and then about her Russian fans. She was genuinely surprised that she has followers there, and was delighted to hear the news. So I passed on their love to her, Michel took a photo and we left.

I walked back to the car-park where Michel had left his car and took my leave of him there. An excellent companion. Merci à toi Michel!

My route back to the hotel took me past Benelux, and it was just after 20.00.

So obviously you walked straight past and went back to the hotel?

Er.. no. I went in and took a seat at the bar, ordering a pint of Sabotage, an IPA at 7%. I was looking at the images on my camera when someone tapped me on the arm. A young lady who was sitting two seats away from me asked if I would mind looking after the two seats next to me, and her coat and bag, while she went to the 'bathroom'. I agreed, but was unsuccessful in protecting her seat from a guy who sat on it with his back to me and didn't seem to hear my protest. When she returned I apologised for failing in my duty. She told me it didn't matter about the seat, she was just concerned about her things. So she proceeded to sit next to me. Two and a half hours later, we parted having spent that period of time in conversation. What an amazing young woman, with a wisdom way beyond her 23 years. I simply can't imagine that happening in South Shields. It turned out that Corinne is the room-mate of the young lady who had offered me that glass of barley wine on Saturday evening, and whose name I now know is Carmellina. It's a small world. I am not going into detail into what we talked about, but there were moments when I felt that she knew me better than I do. Quite remarkable! I

You haven't mentioned how pretty she was.

No, and I wasn't going to.

Having exchanged email addresses and blog addresses, we had a quick hug and I made my way back to my hotel, feeling slightly closer to being 23 than I had when I entered Benelux. It's the same when I communicate with my young friends in Russia – miraculously the years seem to drop away.

Climbing back up the stairs to the room soon put them back on again, even it if it is just one floor.

Trust you!

Sunday 16th: grand-pères au sirop d'érable, and a night of blues at Bistro à Jojo!

Nothing much happened before noon on Sunday 16^th. If other plans had been followed, I might have gone to see Elisapie Isaac on Saturday evening and then travelled on the 06.00 bus from Montréal to Québec City, arriving in time for a concert by Les Surveillantes, from Manitoba, at The Grand Theatre de Québec. The thought of six hours on a bus did not fill me with delight. I was very pleased, therefore when my mind was made up for me. I would not have time to get to Québec City and back in time for 14.00. That was the time that Colombe and Michel had suggested that they might collect me from the hotel to go for a meal at their home in Rivière des Prairie, a suburb of Montréal. Michel and Colombe are two more of the Steve Hill maniaques, whom I had met at Lavaltrie last November, and we have kept in touch since. I was delighted to receive the invitation, and was looking forward to meeting them. The plan was that after the meal we would all go together to Bistro à Jojo, meeting Johanne and other maniaques to see Steve play as part of a live radio broadcast.

What a wonderful afternoon. On the way to their home, we stopped off at Roberto's, a superb delicatessen (is that the word for 'traiteur' Michel?) which has two sections, one for food and one for ice-cream. We went into the ice-cream parlour, and met the proprietress and her daughter. As guest, I was invited to select the flavours of ice cream to accompany the dessert. And I was allowed to sample the flavours there and then, before making a final choice. It was a joint decision really, but we ended up with Lemon sorbet, Pistachio, Coffee and Mint Strat..Strach.. the one with little bits of chocolate in it. Mmmmm, Yum Yum, or Miam Miam. : universal language.

Then we went on to the appartment, where Michel showed me his guitars. Beautiful objects! Colombe had prepared a wonderful meal, finishing of with “Grand-pères au sirop des érables” - I hope that's correct. Another friend, Lucille, joined us for the dessert, which was a delicious kind of cross between a sponge and a dumpling, served with maple syrup and all of that delicious ice cream. So now I have sampled two traditional québecoix desserts: Pudding Chomeur and Grand-pères au sirop des érables. Miamm Miamm!

I have also sampled wonderful hospitality. Thank you Colombe and Michel!

Afterwards Michel drove us all into the city, where we parked not far from rue St.Denis, and walked to the Bistro à Jojo, where Johanne and Palmyre had reserved a table right in front of the stage. This was too good to be true, and was becoming a bit of a habit! 

When we arrived I was delighted to see on stage André Duprée and Jean Millaire. I had seen them once before at Bistro à Jojo, when Steve Hill had come in and jammed with them. What an evening this promised to be!

Each Sunday evening the local radio station CHOM 97.7FM broadcasts a programme which I believe is called Black Cat Alley. I've just checked, it's actually Black Cat Alley Show

Don’t fight it… just let the blues take hold. Sunday nights CHOM’s Randy Renaud keeps you plugged in to blues scene and makes sure you get your fix.

Did you just say that?

No you just wrote it, or should I say pasted it from the CHOM website. Wow! I wish we had a name like Randy Renaud, there's nothing like a bit of alliteration to make your name stand out. You know like...Brigitte Bardot, Robert Redford, Paul Pichet.... er … er.. Willi Wonka.

Willi Wonka! You want us to have a name like Willi Wonka!... Brigitte Bardot, now that does have a certain allure to it, but people might talk if we changed our name to Brigitte Bardot.

I didn't say I wanted to change our name to Willi Wonka, and stop drooling over Brigitte. I just said it would be cool to have a name like Randy Renaud. You know, two alliterative words with two syllables each, giving a balance and rhythm as it is spoken. A really good radio name: “Over now to Randy Renaud at Bistro à Jojo”. Sheer poetry!

So tonight's broadcast was scheduled to come live from the Bistro, with solo spots from Shane Murphy and Steve Hill augmented by two young musicians selected by the radio station to take part in the show.

With most of the maniaques seated as close to the stage as I am sitting to the other side of this desk, we were ready for action. A late arrival was Martine. I say most of the maniaques, because there were two notable exceptions, Barbara and Eric. It was a fantastic show. Randy Renaud set the scene and counted down to the beginning of the live broadcast. First up was a young guy whose name escapes me, one of the competition winners. 

Next came Shane Murphy, a big guy, with a big voice and a little guitar. Actually it was a normal sized Fender, I think, but it just looked small in his hands. He was excellent.

He was followed the young woman who was the second of the candidates chosen to take part in the show. I'm afraid I can't remember her name either.

You will have to start taking a notebook with you. This is just not good enough.

OK. Then it was time for the place to really start jumping as Steve Hill came to the stage. He is a brilliant guitarist, what more can I say. There was a massive reception for him, especially from us at the front! His set flew by.

I thought I had recorded two of his songs, but the first turned out to be an interesting shot of the candle on the table in front of us. I did manage to capture a piece of video showing Steve, Shane and others playing the final two songs. Hopefully you will find them here.

Most of the 'maniaques' were working early the following morning, so I found myself sitting at the front with Palmyre, yet another new friend in music. After a period of stage rebuilding, or at least setting up drum-kit, guitars etc the next part of the evening began, with Carlos Vega and his band.

I was so close to the stage that when the keyboard (actually it's a real old Hammond organ, I think) player moved it to take his seat, he almost knocked me off mine. An apologetic smile, and then off he went. It wasn't long before a jug of beer on a neighbouring table also went off, off the table that is, as his lively playing style led him to leap backwards and forwards on and off his seat. It was good stuff, but after Palmyre had left I stayed for just a bit longer and then walked back. Just before I left I had a swift word with Steve Hill, and asked him if he might be coming to England soon. He said he had no plans, but that he would really like to come over. He does hope to be appearing at the Beauvais Blues Festival next March. There's a date for the diary!!

What a day! What a night! Quel bonne soirée!!!