Mull, how lovely


We went to play at An Tobar on Mull, the most beautiful venue with our very favourite sound man Gordon, who made our strings soar and hearts swell. Mull’s comedy microclimate was is full force: snow on the ferry and as soon as we stepped of it, basked in glorious sun all weekend. The Western Isles hotel was full of faded Poirot-esque glamour so I’ve hatched a plan to retire there with a wardrobe of kimonos and only a theramin for company. We ate our weight in fresh seafood, surely all gigs should be thus, no?

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