She smiles at me. She knows what I drink. She has eyes so blue that the sky seems like a mere impersonation. A copy. A reflection of her.
Got to stay focussed. There's a job to be done. Who's on stage? Kat Healy. She's from Edinburgh. She's polite and so clean cut she could be the girl next door. She sings with clarity but with that reserve that only the truly civilised have. A hint of folk, a hint of a girl growing up into a woman. I like her but I don't think she'll ever fetch me a beer from the fridge.
Gillian Christie is altogether more gallus. She's got a big voice for a start and I doubt she'd lose a fight in a chip shop but she's also got an honesty - a directness even - that gives her something to hook an audience. Confident she most certainly is, she'd fetch you a beer from the fridge and then drink it herself. Just out of badness. She's got spirit.
Julia and the Doogans have the advantage of numbers. Six of them have taken to the stage. Positively mellow by comparison to Ms Christie, they show musical dexterity as they switch between twee pop and a certain elegant melancholy that dances round you like fairies in an enchantment. A spell has been cast.
Emma Curran also has a band with her. She reminds me of Maeve O'Boyle - a personal favourite by the way - as she quickly establishes herself. Her songs are mainstream in their appeal and they draw from all that is good in the past glories of music in this fine city. You can see that many, many people are going to take her to their heart. At least they should if there is any justice.
Did any of them steal my heart? Very nearly but, at the end of the day, you're not going to replace the one who serves me beer in my affections.