(with apologies to Christopher Cross)

Once in your life, you find him
Someone who turns your heart around
And next thing you know
You’re closing down the town

Wake up and it’s still with you
Even though you left him way across the Pond
Wondering to yourself “Hey, what’ve I fond?”

When you get caught between the moon and New York City
I know it’s crazy, but it’s true
If you get caught between the moon and New York City
The best that you can do (the best that you can do)
The best that you can do
Is fall in love

Andrea, she does as she pleases
All of her life, her master’s toys
And deep in her heart
She’s just, she’s just a boy

Living her life one day at a time
She’s showing Penang a really good time
Laughing about the way they want her to be

When you get caught between the moon and New York City
I know it’s crazy, but it’s true
If you get caught between the moon and New York City
The best that you can do (the best that you can do)
The best that you can do
Is fall in love

(Repeat chorus to fade)

Especially when they have a baby in the middle of the night.

I just got a text from my best friend J, who gave birth to a baby girl, Evelyn, at 1am.

Huge, huge love to you both, guys. I can’t wait to meet her.

 xx

Life is, indeed, a rollercoaster.

Such a strange night.

I’ve felt like my singing has been pretty ropey over the past few nights; and at the end of the second set tonight, virtually burst into tears as soon as I came off stage.

(Being a professional, I did of course burst into tears out of sight, backstage.)

It was a combination of things: feeling like I was singing poorly, and that I’m just not fulfilling people’s expectations of me here - feeling like an amateur, I guess, not some pro from London who knows what she’s doing; feeling like I was ‘fire-fighting’ again on stage, not feeling confident about how we were sounding, and downhearted as a result; people not clapping and therefore feeling like I’m just rubbish, and failing in some way (see first ‘thing’); and, well, probably just an outpouring of stress of feeling all the above, on and off, for a few days now. Being surrounded by new people, being in a hotel, performing every night… It’s like I’m constantly ‘on show’, and, well, I just couldn’t hold it in any more. Feeling the tears coming, I grabbed L (the drummer) as soon as the set finished, and in the back room, sobbed a bit as I told him how I was feeling.

He was lovely, and reassured me that I sounded fine; that he and the band were all happy working with me; and that people here, well, “they don’t ‘get’ jazz. It’s difficult”. (Which goes back to this whole requests-for-pop-songs thing).

While I was in the midst of this outpouring to L, one of the bar staff told us that there was a Chinese gentleman who wanted to talk to me. L and I finished up; I wiped my eyes and hoped that they weren’t too smeared, and went out to meet the man in question.

He only turned out to be some bigwig from Marriott. He told me that he really liked what I did, and wanted to know if I’d be interested in playing the Marriott Hotel (or hotels, maybe there are several, I don’t know) in China sometime. He gave me his card, and said to give him a few months’ notice about when I wanted to do it.

Ten minutes’ earlier I’d been feeling like an utter failure; now I was being asked to come to China.

(Unfortunately - or possibly fortunately - the whole ‘human rights issue thing’ only hit me a few minutes later).

So, buoyed up by this unexpected meeting, and wondering just how bad those human rights abuses really are, I went back on stage for the final set: and my voice suddenly sounded ten times better. It sounded like it should; like it does when I’m on form.

It made me realise completely that I’m just not warming up enough before gigs; and that I should get to the bar much, much earlier of an evening to simply sit at the piano, or even just stand at the mic, and sing. I’ve never taken the idea of warming up very seriously in the past. But then, I’ve not had 18 sets a week to perform, on a stage, to a listening audience in the past, either. Lesson learned.

The evening took another twist at the very end of the night, too. Two 40/50-something women in the audience asked me to join them for a drink. One of them (A1 - all chat-chat-chat and hearty laugh) had asked for ‘Cry Me A River’ earlier in the evening, and I recognised her from a previous night, too. Anyway, she and her friend, A2, were just fab, and insisted that we all go out sometime. They gave me their numbers and suggested they take me and my friend V (who’s arriving on Saturday for a week-long visit), to Penang’s main beach resort, Batu Ferrenghi, next week. “Make sure you call me!” was A1’s parting shot.

And that, leedezengennelmen, was my night. Phew.