I'm just coming back down to earth having spent the last two weekends in Tasmania playing at the Cygnet Folk Festival and then the Tamar Valley Folk Festival in beautiful Georgetown.
Thank you Cygnet for a lovey festival and responsive audiences and Michael, Joanne and Harry for welcoming us into your awesome home for the weekend. Such a wonderful place and such kind, generous and lively souls.

Had the honour of singing harmonies for Bruce Watson, who is a bit of a hero of mine which made the event all the more special. I love his songs for their beautifully constructed lyrics, the frequently riveting tales and melodies that are almost impossible to resist harmonising with, so it was a special opportunity to participate in his sets at Cygnet. He sang one amazing song 'The Man and the Woman and the Edison Phonograph' (say that with a peanut butter sarnie in your mouth and stay fashionable) which has an intriguing end made more so and extremely poignant with the presence of a Tasmanian friend of Bruce's, Ronnie, singing with him. The song is about both their ancestors and it was spell binding seeing them sing the story together.

I also glimpsed someone I had been to a Nick Charles workshop with the previous January in George Town. We'd chatted about our fondness for Martin Guitars then. I had to rush off so we couldn't speak at Cygnet, but it was nice to see him there and we chatted via email when I got back to Melbourne. We've had an ongoing conversation of sorts during the year with him being very kind about my CD and George Town performance and also discussing the pros and cons of a person of diminutive height playing a dreadnought. He is partial to parlour model guitars and wondered why I choose to be dwarfed by my instrument. Hmmm. Not something I've ever been too effected by, being very used to being vertically unspectacular.

Then came George Town. Now this beautiful place is the seat of much controversy due to the ongoing battle about a proposed pulp mill. Last year there was a bit of tension about performer freedom of speech as it were and I managed to get in the thick of it. Ooh dear.

This year there appears to have been some healing and the welcome from the organising committee was absolutely the warmest you could imagine and the reception by audiences just so enthusiastic and fulsome. Such an uplifting festival. And in the midst of all that, a very nice woman who I had met the previous year, sidled up to me with a message from the person who I'd attended the workshop with last year. All very mysterious, but all questions were quickly answered when an hour or so later, after we'd done a bit of chortling in the street together (this fine woman has a stunning voice), she presented me with 'the message'... a Martin parlour guitar.

After some very eloquent 'omigod', 'gosh', 'aw shit' type utterances, and after covetously stroking this very pretty guitar for a conspicuously short time, I decided that it would be very tawdry indeed to turn away from such an enormous compliment and such staggering generosity. With wobbling chin I trundled off to find my travelling companions and to ring my family to seek their opinion of whether I was doing the right thing in accepting the stunning gift. They just thought it was terrific, which helped me feel OK about adopting her - she soon wheedled her way into my heart. I found my buddies and promptly burst into tears all over them, but they too were very encouraging as were the George Town audience that night when I played it in public for the first time and told the tale.

Gotta say, I'm what has recently, and very justly been described as having a 'useful guitar style' so I've never found an excuse to lob onto a stage with two guitars like those clever types who seem to perform with racks of the buggers to choose from. So that in itself was a major buzz. The audience were very supportive and delighted - and tolerant of the fact that I blubbed at them too.

One rather dry chap apparently commented after my performance at the closing concert "someone gave me a punnet of blueberries in Cygnet, and I'm hoping I might get a cheese sandwich here in George Town".

So Tamar Valley Folk Festival 2009 has been a magical time for me. Not only for the huge compliment of the gift of the parlour guitar from the very dear and supportive man who bestowed it upon me, but also for the joyous way in which the audiences there receive and appreciate everyone's concerts, the lovely and lively sessions in the pub afterwards, the beauty of the place and the tremendous kindness and support from the people who put me up, Lorraine and Des. They were also treated to the wobbly chinned, blubbing musican telling the miraculous tale of the new member of my guitar family.

And to dear, dear Malcolm and John who I travelled over with. They were so gentle and kind with ever so slightly neurotic moi, and singing with Malcolm in his sets was an honour and a pleasure, particularly singing 'Walls' which he has done such justice to. It's quite a buzz singing back up to your own composition.

I'm starting off the year so excited and inspired and I so hope to get back to Tasmania to play some time soon. The rest of my Unsung buddies are pretty keen to see if we can get over there next year perhaps. Wonder what it's like there in winter...

Now it's back to organising the April UK trip, with a few glitches emerging such as the odd venue closing down - they are doing it tough over there - and other gigs falling over. Still, I'm looking forward to what I do have in place and very excited by Denmark too.

Boy I'm blessed!