Due to all the upheavals and uncertainty of the last few months (losing both the lead singer and the bass player), the band hadn’t played a gig for some time. Then François asked if we could do half an hour at one of his cabaret evenings, held to raise funds for sick children and their families in this area.

This would be my first gig as bass player; I was very nervous, in spite of telling myself that nobody listens to the bass. The rest of the band would hear my mistakes!

Because the stage was to be used for the main event – a sketch about a talent show – we were squeezed into a corner of the Salle des fêtes. The sound check was something of a shock, to me at least; we were so close to the drums that they were deafening and the rest of the sound was far from clear, I couldn’t tell if I was close enough to the mic, in fact I could barely hear myself and the rest of the guys had similar problems. We all put in special earplugs, I think they’re called attenuators, but although they cut down the overall volume, they didn’t help much, it was still a mishmash of sound.

Pascal, the sound man, had other people to see to, so we left him to it and practiced quietly in a side room.

Someone appeared with food for all the performers; baguettes, cheese, paté, ham, beer, etc. But no knife and no bottle opener! Eventually someone found a knife and Adrian tried using his guitar capo to open beers – it worked!

The show started; before long, it was our turn. Pascal must have done something different for our sound, as it was much clearer; I just put in an earplug on the drums side, which helped.

I made a few mistakes on the bass, due to nerves, but I don’t suppose any of the audience noticed, and I wasn’t the only one not perfect. The gig passed pretty well, though the audience were fairly dead; afterwards the Maire of the village asked if she could book us for a two hour set at their village fête next June, so it can’t have been too bad.

When Jan and Kate came to stay with me last year, we got on so well that it seemed a good idea to arrange another get together; this time we included Liz, another long term friend.

None of us having previously been to Porto, in Portugal, that was chosen as our destination. Jan found a lovely apartment in the centre of the Ribeira district, within walking distance of so many interesting and historic sites, as well as some excellent restaurants.

There was a great little restaurant just up the road from the apartment; by 4pm on the day we arrived , having had a very early start and having eaten nothing since breakfast, we were all famished, so that’s where we went. Kieran had recommended that we try a francesihna, a traditional Portuguese dish. It’s a sort of hot sandwich; two slices of bread, filled with steak, spicy sausage and ham, topped with melted cheese and served in a pool of gravy, with chips. Not at all my usual fare, but it was actually delicious!

The weather wasn’t great for the first few days, but somehow we managed to avoid the worst of the showers, sheltering in the cathedral,  shops or a market.

We were able to eat lunch outside, on the banks of the river Douro the first day; the threatened rain not materialising until later, just after we’d admired the cloister and climbed the tower of the cathedral, rewarding us with fantastic views over the whole of old Porto.

From the top of the town, we took the funicular down to the top level of the Ponte de Dom Luis 1, a beautiful iron bridge spanning the Douro, and walked across. Trains run across this level of the bridge, within inches of the pavements on either side, but without anything to separate the trains from the pedestrians!  The whole place was refreshingly free of any sort of health and safety measures; it seemed very strange to us Brits.

On the far side of the river are the port producers, all with their shops and tasting areas. We intended to go for a tasting, but ran out of time; however we did take the cable car down from the bridge, walking back along the riverside, soaking up the ambience and stopping at one of the many restaurants for dinner.

We visited the “golden” church of St Francis, so named because the inside is almost totally decorated in gold; hideously over decorated and overwhelming in my opinion, but a must on the tourist trail. I didn’t even take a photo!

We walked miles every day, going to markets and museums, listening to some very talented buskers, ambling round shops and along the riverside and up and down the steep cobbled streets of the old city.

Finally, on our last full day, the rain stopped, the sun showed its face and the temperature rose; we took an old fashioned tram out to where the river meets the sea and watched the waves crashing over the breakwater, while soaking up the sunshine, then stopped for lunch in a sports bar, run by a gruff-looking bear of a German (who turned out to be delightful), wearing a St Patrick’s day Guinness tee-shirt.

Two of the foursome will celebrate their 70th birthdays next year, so I think that’ll be a good excuse for another trip.

After the departure of all my summer visitors, it was great to have something else to look forward to – a trip to London, to see my brother and his partner. He’d moved house since my last visit, as had his partner and his ex-wife, so I was looking forward to seeing all their new homes.

It was a busy few days; knowing that I miss the theatre, Peter had booked for us to see MJ the musical. I’m not a fan of Michael Jackson, but the production was faultless and the guy who played the lead role sounded and moved exactly like the man himself. The standing ovation was well deserved.

Penny is a real culture vulture and  always knows what’s worth going to see in the city. We visited Tate Modern to see an exhibition of the “blue riders”, a group of artists including Kandinsky. I’d not heard of them before, but it was fascinating to learn their story.

Peter and Penny had arranged a party on the Saturday, to meet her new neighbours, who include a concert pianist and a professor of music, amongst others – some lovely, interesting people.

I spent Sunday with Peter’s ex-wife and children, seeing their new home and catching up on their news.

Monday was a trip to Kew gardens, the waterlilies were especially beautiful and the weather was so summery that we went around the treetop walk too.

It was a great trip, with unbelievably good weather and I always love catching up with old friends and family, but as the Pyrenees came into view on the descent into Biarritz, I realised just how much this has become my home now.