A YEAR ago on March 7, I played my last live gig before lockdown. I remember it very well. Brighton were away at Wolves so, as is my normal practice, I had a gig afterwards not far away at Katie Fitzgerald’s in Stourbridge

It’s a lovely, left-wing real-ale pub and performance venue immortalised by fiery local singer-songwriter Jess Silk in her song Friday Night at Rebel HQ.

The first Covid cases had already been identified in Brighton and I had realised that this was a serious problem. For me, it had extra import because of the COPD caused by around a quarter of a century of inhaling other people’s smoke at gigs before the ban.

Crammed into the away end at Molineux I was distinctly uneasy and after a torrid 0-0 draw I drove through the Black Country wondering what was in store.

A packed, sizzling gig followed and my happiness at the reception was tempered by the same feelings of unease and foreboding, a nagging feeling that something should already have been done.

After I got home, the news worsened day by day. By the end of the following week I had cancelled all my forthcoming gigs and made my last visit to my local pub. It was packed, I didn’t feel safe and I returned home after one pint.

By then I was sure we should already have been in lockdown. But that didn’t happen in full until March 23, more than two weeks after that last gig.

There can be no doubt that the government’s failure to act earlier contributed to the current ghastly statistics, as did the prevarications and procrastinations about later lockdowns and Sunak & Co’s stubborn refusal to put human life before profit until the rising case numbers brooked no argument.

Anyone even vaguely tempted to look kindly on his current deceptively slick presentations should remember this.

All of us have our stories of how the huge changes in our lives during the past year have affected us. For me, going from around 100 public performances a year to precisely zero has been a real challenge and after a lifetime on the road a year at home all the time has been an interesting test of the state of my marriage to my wife, since we are both very strong characters.

I am supremely fortunate to be able to say that I have come through both tests with flying colours. We both agree that there is no-one we would rather be in lockdown with and I have developed sufficient internet skills to broadcast at will to the world on Facebook Live, alongside my regular blogs on the same page.

Through my blogs and live broadcasts I have actually reached far more people than I would in a year of live performance although nothing, but nothing, will ever match the thrill of a flesh-and-blood audience for me and in common with all my fellow performers I can’t wait to get back out there. But I won’t be doing so until it’s safe.

To mark one year away from the stage, at 4pm on Sunday March 7 I shall be doing a full length show of poems and songs at Facebook.com/attilathestockbroker. Opening up will be the aforementioned Jess Silk, the finest young political singer-songwriter I have encountered in the past few years, and I’ll be doing my stuff at 4.30. Simply visit my page to see the show.

I’ve just had my first jab. To finish, here’s my reaction.

Post-jab Poem

I haven’t had a message from Bill Gates
I still don’t have Illuminati mates
When cycling still wear black drainpipes not Lycra
The chips Robina feeds me still aren’t micra
No constant urge to buy stuff at IKEA
Or switch to gnat urine from proper beer
Because I’ve had a jab into my arm
To save my weakened lungs from virus harm
This loud and forceful poet will not be told
That I am somehow sheeplike and controlled
Because I wear a mask for common good
And do the things that caring people should
And though in stroppy rhymes I am well versed
I’m proud to say society comes first
And every single arm should be injected
So all the vulnerable can be protected!