‘Bout a couple of days ago, I decided to go to the Litro event at Foyles. It sounded quite good on paper: an offering of music and literature from 6 to 10pm – and all of that for only the modest entry fee of £5. I was thinking to myself, “Hmmm… why not catch some early evening sounds and relaxation?” So I got there in good time, got a nice laté and a bit of literature, and perched myself up on a nice, wooden yet extremely uncomfortable bar stool by the window-side. I was geared up, ready to relax! Then 6pm came and went by… No sign of any acts whatsoever…

About 6:20, the stage PA started belting out a fine variety of canned and tinned sounds that could almost have been live. I had my back to the stage – and wondered whether the band had arrived. So I swiveled around on my bar stool and appraised the stage-side developments. I spotted a bar assistant fiddling with the PA and then retreating hastily. The couple of well-mannered blondes who were sitting at the table immediately behind me synchronously eyed my crotch, and I wondered whether I had left my fly open. After discreetly re-assuring myself that I was in proper decorum, I continued to watch the stage for a while, and eventually turned back to resume my reading of an excerpt from Gulliver’s Travels.

At around 7:10pm, all hope having faded of catching some early evening live tunes, having finished my little literature handout, and growing weary of waiting, I decided to call it a day. I took in a deep breath, exhaled, put on my jacket, double checked my crotch and the blondes, and then with a calm smile made my way to the door.