If there’s one thing I despise more than the 50‑minute drive into Birmingham city centre, it’s the 1 hour and 45 minute “welcome to the seventh circle of hell” version during rush hour. I swear half these drivers find their licences in cereal boxes or under hedges. It’s not traffic, it’s a live‑action, no‑rules demolition derby fuelled by nothing more than pure rage.

Thankfully however, Sonia’s the driver in our household, otherwise they’d be fishing us out of the canal way before the halfway mark… either that or I’d be sat in a police holding cell somewhere, explaining exactly why I felt it not just acceptable, but necessary to launch the Range Rover at the BMW that not only cut us up twice, but three times, before indicating left and then turning right, whilst Mr Ford Fiesta man behind tried climbing into the boot in order to advance his journey an extra two foot in stationary traffic. And don’t get me started on Mr Deliveroo on his 50cc hair dryer, weaving through traffic like a man on a KFC suicide mission, trying to claim our wing mirror as a souvenir as he did. Honestly, It’s carnage. It’s chaos. It’s just not safe.

Yes, in hindsight we could have taken the metro or a train and spared ourselves the full Mad Max Live Experience, but the venue we were heading to is about as close to Birmingham city centre as Narnia is to Middle Earth. We’d still have needed a taxi… same traffic, same road goblins, same death‑wish manoeuvres, only this time we’d be paying for the privilege.

Then there’s the fact we had a table booked for 5:15pm, because nothing spices up an already horrendous journey quite like a looming deadline. The plan was, get there early, enjoy a quiet drink before eating, then off to the gig. Family life however had already conspired to keep us held hostage until precisely 3:45pm, the very moment that every other human in the West Midlands decides to hit the road, meaning we didn’t actually rock up at the pub until exactly 15 minutes after our table booking.

This was only our third visit to The Red Lion in King’s Heath and, as always, it was to see our beautiful and very talented friend Edwina Hayes performing live upstairs at the award winning Red Lion Folk Club which has been going for over 50 years now, the last 35 years of which have been based at The Red Lion itself, and is renowned for showcasing some of the best folk acts from across the Midlands. It was also only our second visit for a pre‑gig meal.

The first time we ate there it was genuinely lovely, great food, great service, great atmosphere, no complaints. So naturally, we returned with the confidence of people who clearly hadn’t learned that life enjoys punishing optimism and positivity, because this time, our experience wasn’t quite as good.

Slow service, tepid food (at most), calamari that resembled cold McDonalds French fries, streaky bacon (what there was of it) looking as if it had been held momentarily against a radiator instead of being cooked, and the chef’s personal choice to add both hot chilli sauce and tzatziki to my chicken strip starter, because either the barmaid had screwed up the order in the first place, or the chef had just decided not to bother reading the order correctly and wanted to edge their bets just to be on the safe side… Had time not been strongly against us, we’d have probably kicked up a fuss, but they weren’t about to delay the show just for us, and the 20% Staff Discount code always comes as a blessing, after all, It’s not what you know… It’s who you know!

Once we’d finished eating and had heroically donated £24 to the fruit machine as we passed, for reasons unknown, we made our way upstairs a full ten minutes before the doors were due to open, instead of doing the sensible thing and sitting comfortably in the bar, which resulted in us having to queue on the staircase itself… Not ideal when you’ve got epilepsy and zero warning before seizures, but remembering the complete absence of tables on previous visits, we thought we’d be clever and secure a good spot early doors. Spoiler alert: we needn’t have bothered.

At exactly 7:17pm, the door swung open to reveal the regulars… the chosen ones… the ones with obvious early access and VIP privileges (and possibly their own secret handshake). There they were, smugly sat in the best seats available, their Tupperware sandwich boxes and hot beverages cluttering up the tables, and their badly bobbled fleeces and beige corduroy body warmers draped over the backs of other seats which were obviously reserved for their friends Brian and Barbara who were yet still to arrive, whilst the rest of us spiritually defeated peasants made a hasty retreat to whichever seats remained.

There was nothing for it. I was going to have to risk resting my Guinness at my feet for the entire night, and heaven help the poor soul who accidentally kicked it over.

The first act on stage was Rob Peters and Hannah Brown, a duo who also play in a band together, and who also appear regularly at The Red Lion. Rob of course, is the Folk Club’s regular sound engineer, so you’d think the one thing we should have been able to rely on was the sound behaving itself… But no! This wasn’t to be.

Ironically, the moment Rob started strumming his guitar, the speakers began crackling like they were trying to contact the spirit world. Every time he hit a chord, the sound system responded with the enthusiasm of an angry wasp trapped in a crisp packet, and after a while, I found myself quietly wishing he’d put the guitar down and go back behind the mixing desk, where at least he could have eliminated the interference which by now was playing havoc with my eardrums.

Now, I’m not saying their performance was bad, absolutely not. Rob and Hannah have voices so good they could probably harmonise over a fire alarm and still make it sound intentional. Their harmonies bounce off each other effortlessly, like two people who’ve spent far too long together and now share a single musical brain cell. But unfortunately… the set just wasn’t for me.

At times it genuinely sounded like they were singing a different song to the one Rob was playing entirely. Like his guitar had wandered off to do its own thing while their vocals carried on with the main storyline. And a couple of the songs I felt went on for so long, I started to wonder whether we’d been trapped in some kind of folk‑based time loop, never to heard from again.

Rob also doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of ‘less is more’ when it comes to playing his guitar either. He was throwing out chords, notes, riffs, and possibly morse code, half of which felt like they’d escaped from a completely different tune. But who am I to judge? Rob’s the well‑established, well‑respected musician in this story. I’m just the bloke in the audience who momentarily considered filing a noise complaint. No offence intended, I’m sure many of those in attendance enjoyed the set, it’s just that I didn’t. I guess we can’t all like the same things all of the time.

During the interval, I left Sonia guarding the drinks while I nipped off to the gents. On the way, managing a short detour into a quick chat, and an even quicker cuddle with Edwina, who greeted me like an old friend rather than some bloke who just keeps turning up at her gigs.

She introduced me to her friend Mark and immediately launched into the story of how she played at our wedding, which made me look far more important than I actually am. It was only a short chat, mind you, as she had to go and set up her mic and amp in readiness for her set, but she did promise she’d come and find us after the show. By this point, I basically floated into the loos and back to my seat like a man who’d just been personally validated by one of his favourite singers of all time.

As Edwina took to the stage, it was obvious to all that Rob was back behind his beloved sound desk, and back in his natural habitat. The crackles had disappeared, the feedback from the mic had left the building, and Edwina’s voice was probably sounding better than I’ve ever heard her sing live before. Her words were clear and crisp, her guitar precise and perfect, her stories between songs, captivating and funny, so funny in fact, I’d quite happily pay just to listen to her stories of past gigs, why she chooses to sing certain songs, and about her time spent in Nashville. I honestly don’t think she realises just how funny and entertaining she really is at times.

Unusually for one of Edwina’s shows, there was an electric guitar lurking on stage, just sat there, bold as brass, like it had been mistakenly left behind by a Foo Fighters tribute act the previous night. I’d never seen one at her gigs before, so naturally I stared at it the way I’d imagine my nan would have stared at a self‑checkout machine for the first time.

Its presence was soon explained however when Edwina announced that her friend Mark would be joining her for a couple of tracks later on. At first, I wasn’t sure how to feel. I’ve only ever seen Edwina perform solo, the one‑person emotional support jukebox of music perfection that I’ve grown to love, though I have heard her perform with others on the Hummingbird Tougher Than Love album (2007) and The Mile Roses’ self‑titled album (2017), both of which are brilliant in their own right.

That initial uncertainty quickly morphed into intrigue, that intrigue into full‑blown anticipation, and before I knew it, I was sat there thinking, “Go on then… plug the thing in. Let’s see what happens.” I was genuinely looking forward to hearing something new. Something different.

The set rolled along beautifully, with songs like All About Love, Leave a Light On for You, Famous Blue Raincoat, and Won Me Over all blending into one another so seamlessly. Then along came Froggy Went A‑Courting, injecting a little humour into events, and before we knew it, Edwina was dedicating Feels Like Home to Sonia and me… our song… the song she performed live as Sonia walked down the aisle at our wedding just over two years ago. It’s always been a special song for us, but when Edwina dedicates it to us at her shows, it becomes so much more.

After our song had come to an end, Edwina introduced her friend Mark Sams to the stage… the same Mark I had met earlier that evening… the same Mark Sams (aka Rock Freebase), guitarist and bass player from the band Alabama 3… the same London based Alabama 3 who wrote and perform the song Woke Up This Morning, the theme song from none other than the multi-award-winning American TV show The Sapranos… There was not just one star on stage before us, there were now two, and they sounded good together… different, but good, though I have to admit, I still much prefer it when Edwina plays solo.

Once the set was done, and Edwina had said her good nights, true to her word she came over for a quick chat with us before we left… she had a plan!… a plan we’ve spoken about briefly before but never really set in motion, a plan to travel to Walsall to meet up with us for a meal at our favourite restaurant when time and availability allows, the same restaurant she performed live at for our wedding day meal. A plan we’re definitely going to set into motion this time around… It will be our honour.

Luckily our trip home was nowhere near as eventful as the journey there, and barring the odd boy racer overtaking on the opposite side of the road at 90mph+ in a 30 zone, and against on-coming traffic, we arrived home safe and sound and in good time following yet another great night out listening to great live music… Here’s to the next one.