jazz bar

the chinese chicken party adjourned to cafeopera after dinner but because i'm not a fan (ancient crowd, bad music, overpriced, pretentious etcetc) i joined the odd irish-german couple at a lovely little jazz bar in gamla stan instead. cosy, a tad kitsch but all in good fun. plus, they'd a life-changing jazz band comprising an octogenarian trio (we asked!), the frontman's son on the drums and his (cute!) grandson on the double bass. i know next to nothing about jazz but this was most definitely not the muzak you hear in hotel lobbies and lifts. in fact, i was so enthralled by the set(s) that i refused to talk to anyone, dissolved into the leather seat and stared at the stage with a dazed grin. the only downside was that i was in perpetual fear that one of them would keel over mid-performance. that's how old they are. and that's how good they were on the saxophone, trumpet and clarinet. crazy stuff!

wheelchair hanging from the ceiling

the odd couple

check out the rocking horse suspended over the bar

and the stars of the show

apologies for the lousy photos, took them on my iphone because i was too vain to bring a bigger bag. stayed till closing then caught the last metro home. went by J's for a nightcap and S shared his cuban rum. felt like a pirate, swirling my rum in goblet, yet feeling like quite the connoisseur. J's birthday's coming up and his parents sent him a video camera so N (J's guest from uppsala), S and J were taking semi-drunken interviews. J asked if singers bordered china (!!!) and the three of us decided that J needs his mother and S needs a holiday from being her surrogate.

good times :) luck o' the irish, indeed.