Waiting on Dwarfs are distinctly specialist, so we stood at the back of the room and drank lots of red wine. Some muscial highlights included a couple of very nicely executed bass solos, and discovering that the reason I thought it was a viola was because the violinist was so little - though a friend of his suggested it was because I would normally have seen him in the Royal Albert Hall, and not a little room in Dalston. The second set was more crowd pleasing, but it's all relative. If you want something challenging and unusual in your jazz, go and see them. If, like me, you want something to tap your foot to, or unlike me, something to dance to, don't.
Later, we went to the Dalston Jazz Bar, where there was much grabbing of groin, and uttering of 'J'habite'. I cannot satisfactorily explain why.
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I have to go to the DJB in the next few days. Should I take some kind of crotch protection? A cricket box, perhaps?
No, relax - it's just something they do in France, and we happened to be there with some weird French people. Though I suppose it's better to be safe than incapable of fatherhood.
Update: went there last night. Crotch still intact. Got complimentary crackers and cheese, oddly.
I'm making a mental note to go on Tuesdays and not Saturdays.
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