November 2025. Highbury. London.
A big (for RM) gig in London, a new venue for me just outside Highbury Station and just below the Arsenal ground, and I find myself with 2 hours to kill before doors.
I know it’s imperative I get the largest size Rosie T-shirt before they sell-out, but 2 hours is a long time.
Still, we can admire the livery of the Hen & Chickens (still no actual Bass),
and contemplate the equally beguiling breweriana across the road,
where the almost forgotten Brewhouse & Kitchen are trying to revive their beer credentials with fresh cask (not THAT fresh cask) for £3.50. In London.
I had a good pint in a Brewhouse & Kitchen once (not really).
Despite that temptation, and a second hearing of the Stone Roses “Made of Stone” in a week, this B & K was so quiet I couldn’t face it, so I had a San Pellegrino (NItalianFizzSS 4) in the Spoons.
And then gave up and went in the Grace’s downstairs keg pub.
Well, Untappd had warned of Lost & Grounded in the fridge; Untappd lied. But a man should not come to North London and not drink an overpriced can of Beavertown in a plastic glass,
and Heavy Gravity is pretty good, if not Lupuloid levels.
A few young American women (Rosie is from Brooklyn) talk about duff boyfriends on the other tables, which is the sort of blog content you want, and I realise with delight/horror I’m likely to be the only gig-goer over 25 tonight (the lovely doorman asked if I wanted a chair !), and possibly the only bloke.
Until two chaps wearing Ozzy T-shirts arrive. Oh, they’ve got a Sabbath tribute at the Garage next door, and are lost. Do I look lost ?
Don’t answer that.
These diary entries where I reveal my innermost secrets and musical preferences aren’t that popular, though “Martin’s Marvellous Musical Melodies” racked up 500 views during lockdown, just below “A Fish Tea In Withernsea“, which shows that rhyming outperforms alliteration.
Anyway reader…
and as someone who doesn’t cry at funerals, or last minute title wins, or “Noel Edmond’s Christmas Presents”, that’s saying something about Rosie’s storytelling on City Woman, a record I only heard because Tidal recommended to me a month ago.
“And I love the way you look at life, the way you call your dad each night“. Sob, sob, sob.
It’s an hour of pop genius, and while the lyric videos might suggest the shyness of youth,
on stage she blossoms into greatness.
One of the best five gigs of my life, and I saw Cliff Richard in 1974.
retiredmartin 
Never heard of Rosie but I took a listen. She has a lovely voice. Glad you enjoyed the evening all round, probably better than the Black Sabbath tribute one.
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As you mature into middle age are you getting sentimental? We may see your first Christmas gift purchase this year! That is a pretty amazing thing to have happen. Top five show for you.
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“I know it’s imperative I get the largest size Rosie T-shirt before they sell-out, but 2 hours is a long time.”
Glad to see you were REALLY into it. 👍
“Still, we can admire the livery of the Hen & Chickens (still no actual Bass),”
False advertising!
“where the almost forgotten Brewhouse & Kitchen are trying to revive their beer credentials with fresh cask (not THAT fresh cask) for £3.50. In London.”
£3.50? They’re trying HARD.
“I had a good pint in a Brewhouse & Kitchen once (not really).”
Burn!
“so I had a San Pellegrino (NItalianFizzSS 4) in the Spoons.”
Keeping your wits about you for the concert.
“But a man should not come to North London and not drink an overpriced can of Beavertown in a plastic glass,:
That’s what being a tourist is all about.
“and I realise with delight/horror I’m likely to be the only gig-goer over 25 tonight (the lovely doorman asked if I wanted a chair !), and possibly the only bloke.”
I would strongly advise against taking any photos!
“Don’t answer that.”
Pfft. Once one hits middle age (or higher) one can get away with a lot of things.
(except taking photos!)
“which shows that rhyming outperforms alliteration.”
Natch. A rhyme is sublime; alliteration is merely reverse rhyme reiteration.
“Anyway reader…”
(looks down)
Hey, whatever floats your boat.
““And I love the way you look at life, the way you call your dad each night“. Sob, sob, sob.”
Blimey. That could give me the sniffles.
That’s a bit serendipitous because, as I write this, Nov 10th, it’s my late Dad’s birthday. So excuse me as I go blow my nose and pour a glass, again, in my Dad’s honour).
“One of the best five gigs of my life, and I saw Cliff Richard in 1974.”
Again, glad you had a wonderful time.
Cheers
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