IT’S wonderful to be back on the road again after 18 months, although things have changed in so many ways. Many people are, understandably, still wary of being in confined spaces or in close proximity to each other — I still am myself to a degree — and I have had some very worrying experiences travelling to gigs.

Three times in the last month I have been caught up in torrential, localised flooding incidents on motorways: twice in one day. A journey to Preston 10 days ago should have taken five hours but actually took over eight. I remember occasional such events before lockdown, but for them to happen so frequently is unprecedented and deepens my support for Extinction Rebellion and all those standing up for the planet in different ways.

The disruption caused to working people’s lives by such actions is nothing compared to what will happen if things go on like this. I only wish I could cycle everywhere as I do within a 10-mile radius of my home. Unfortunately you can’t do that with unlimited instruments and a mountain of merch. As soon as practicable and affordable, I’m getting an electric car (once their massive price tags come down so ordinary folk can afford them).  

The highlight of my last couple of weeks was most definitely Wigan Diggers’ Festival and I am so pleased that it could go ahead. Headliners Merry Hell were absolutely magnificent on their home turf, belting out a selection of their finest songs old and new in front of a huge local crowd with Mrs Kettle, mother of Andrew, Bob and John, the three singing Kettle brothers at the core of the band (and mother-in-law of Virginia, another Kettle) sitting at the front on Joe Solo’s customised stage chair. A poignant moment.

John Kettle also contributed some mighty original punky tunes to another outstanding trio on the bill, the wonderful Bard Company, a forceful punk/rap combo following in the long-established tradition of loud shouty old blokes telling it like it is.

I loved his previous band The Tansads, a punkier Merry Hell, and this lot were The Tansads’ Grandads, beasty old boys bringing the noise and then some. Utterly brilliant and booked for next year’s Glastonwick.

Solo was ace as ever, rousing the rabble to stentorian song and the incredibly young, talented and ukulele-strutting Isaac Hughes Dennis — George Formby meets the Buzzcocks meets Tom Lehrer — headlined the acoustic stage for the first time to a fantastic reception. A true original.

But the show was stolen by an unexpected guest — Jeremy Corbyn, making a short appearance following his participation in the Liverpool arms fair demo. To say that he received an ecstatic reception is an understatement. His commitment to grass-roots Labour Party action in the current climate is spot on. As always, he was charming, warm and down to earth and, as you can see in the photo, I was proud to present him with a copy of my Collected Works.

The following day I had an afternoon show at the much needed Salty Dog in Northwich. Having been married to that town’s finest export for more than 20 years I know the place well, always bemoaned the fact that there was no venue in the town celebrating real ale and alternative music, and always thought if one was set up it would be a roaring success. Well, a few years ago one was, and it is. A must visit if you like real ale and punk rock, Cheshire folk.

Next up I’m reading from my Collected Works at Steyning Parish Church on National Poetry Day, October 7 (sounds genteel, it won’t be) and the following day at the lovely Loves Cafe in Weston-super-Mare. All info at facebook.com/attilathestockbroker. Stay safe.

For more info visit attilathestockbroker.com/merch.php or facebook.com/attilathestockbroker/ or Twitter: @atilatstokbroka