Note to self, and anyone else who cares: do not go and see June Tabor again unless in a folk club where, during the pedestrian lecturing and self-righteous chat between songs, you can at least buy a round of drinks, chat to your mates or relieve your bladder. Yesterday when someone shouted "More songs, please" during the chat there was an immediate burst of applause, letting off pent-up audience frustration. The pauses disrupted the flow of the performance so much that Huw Warren fluffed several notes and JT had to restart a couple of verses because she'd got the words out of order. Buy the albums instead. Chumbawamba were wonderful, however.