I spent the evening at Bennetts Lane listening to Barbara Morrison sing, and sing, and sing from Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan and Billie Holliday. I've no idea how old she is, but she rocks a shock white afro, and when she giggles and gives her age as 28, I believe her. The way she flirts, sasses and plays with the audience, she's younger than me, and more woman than I'll ever be. I'm in looooove.
We didn't have a full band and stage, as Bennetts is a hard core jazz club, ie, small and cramped and well-loved in a scuffed and tired sort of way, but there she is.
Makes me want to spend the night dancing and drowning in outrageous romance.
Sleep is poor alternative (yet has its allures).