Courtney Pine was almost as delighted as me to be returning after such a long time to Ronnie Scott’s the iconic Frith Street jazz venue, which has somehow managed to keep going despite the three long lockdowns that the UK has endured. I did watch a couple of online shows from HK. They were great and obviously generated a fair amount of donations from devoted jazzfans. I booked two trips in the space of a week to Ronnie’s and it felt like the Covid pandemic  had been all but forgotten as the clientele, cosying up to each other as always, removed their masks as soon as they could on approaching their seats. I was a little concerned but consoled myself with the thought that this demographic will inevitably have been double vaccinated, though Ronnie’s does not insist on it. Nonetheless, I was relieved when my two LFTs later in the week turned out negative for Covid.

The maestro spun joyous flights of fancy on his soprano sax including influences from soca and township jazz, and kept me mostly enthralled all the way through. I am not a music critic, nor do I know much about modern jazz extemporisation, but he seemed to be having a lot of fun and admitted that he’d got carried away with happiness at being back at Ronnie’s, which called to mind that famous quip of Miles to John Coltrane “Try taking the fucking horn out of your mouth.” 

I drank my customary Martini and, though the duck confit was more like roast duck breast, all suddenly felt right with the world for a while.

Later that week I’d planned to be with Eliza at the jazz brunch celebrating the life of Stan Getz, but she had to postpone her trip from Edinburgh to coincide with her grandad’s funeral so I went alone and was parked conspicuously right by the stage.

I was all set for a bit of gentle bossa nova of the sort that you cannot have on the car music system when you’re driving at night on a French motorway, it’s so soothing and soporific, but there was apparently much more to renowned balladeer Getz’s music than gently swaying Latin rhythm. He was a great innovator and borrowed ruthlessly from all sorts of musical styles, often without crediting the people from whom he borrowed them. The Chris Ingham Quartet, with the transcendent Mark Crooks on the tenor were mesmerising in their overview of the troubled life and varied music of this “..nice bunch of guys…” as described by Zoot Sims.

What a welcome interlude this week was in my hectic month at home. Few things beat live music. I can’t wait to return in the spring, I hope.