Last folk choir gig, we were still in wassail season: January, cold, mulled cider, and songs swathed in winter spirits and fear of darkness.

Late April, and you would expect a different idiom. But it’s been a cold and damp spring, as befits our climate-uncertain times of underwater county cricket grounds and new-build estates on floodplains waiting for the end.

There was rain, wind, and cold. But then, a tiny miracle: the sun came out; while I was waiting for restorative tea at the village cafe.

And suddenly my four layers felt more absurd, and our songs of renewal and seasonal rebirth felt more appropriate.

After a chilly churchyard rehearsal, we made our way to the orchard just before showtime. There was barely anyone there, so I went back to the village stage, and shouted “the Brighton Folk Choir shall be singing folk songs in the orchard in FIVE MINUTES”, in my most authoritative voice.

Everyone was briefly silent. I departed the stage. “Nice announcement,” said one lady, clutching a cider.

People started trickling into our orchard, and our slimmed-down choir did a lovely job.

My favourites? Probably Leave Her Johnny and Cornish Farewell Shanty. I also enjoyed the beautiful reworked lyrics for Cheshire Mayday Shanty, though I didn’t nail my part. Still: we felt in good voice throughout.

I was also super happy Yas came along to watch; most of the photos and videos below are courtesy of her.