Vou cantar até morrer

It's official. I'm exhausted. I'm so tired, in fact, that I am having trouble keeping my eyes open. It is difficult, but I think I am just about managing (although I seem to be hitting all the wrong keys on the keyboard). My flat in Lisbon is just round the corner from this Fado club, which seems to be very popular indeed with Japanese tourists. I must confess myself to you: I have never been in a Fado club in my life, and, I hasten to add, I have no real desire to make a start anytime within the next 50 years. I have heard real, live fado, as practiced by people of the bairro - authentic amateur fado. Way back when I lived here on a more permanent basis than now, I was very friendly with a fellow student whose parents owned a small restaurant near the centre of Lisbon. This wasn't a real restaurant... it was more like a social club for invited guests only. There was no sign on the door advising passers-by of what was going on behind that particular green door, there was no price list, and the door was always closed - oh, and did I mention that it was only open one day a week (Friday). The place was basic: two big rooms with long tressle tables covered with plastic, but the food was good and the music better. It was the same people week in, week out, so obviously I got to know most of them reasonably well, and they all seemed to bring their musical instruments with them. It was great fun. I'll maybe go past it tomorrow night to see if it still exists.


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