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….After sausage and mash we stayed for the music. Matt Woosey is a singer-guitarist-songwriter, in his thirties, his music being sort of blues-folk. He’d hitchhiked from Colchester to Bonsall for this gig (I didn’t know anyone hitchhiked these days) to save money, and, Lord knows, small pubs can’t pay much. Colette, the landlady, asked if anyone knew someone driving Harrogate-way the next day, or he’d have to try hitchhiking there too. Woosey was brilliant. The pub was full and I sat on the floor to get closer. He turned a lone guitar into a small band. He gave familiar stuff a more expressive rendering with more light and shade than the originals (Little Red Rooster was my favourite) and his face became a performance in itself. Woosey’s own songs had simplicity and power; and encores kept him going until almost midnight. I hope he got his lift to Harrogate. Call me a bleeding heart but this guy had luminous originality and talent. And I, who don’t, get paid so much more just to put into this notebook what any decent letter-writer could compose writing home to his mum. I realise young artists must struggle, and always have, and blues-folk would have no song without personal struggle to sing about . . . but honestly. Must genius hitchhike to Harrogate?