Sarah L Dixon Writer

The leaving of part of my heart in Liverpool

Prowsey Knees-up Pilgrimage

In February 2024 I made some friends at the Ian Prowse and Fiddle of Fire gig at The Parish in Huddersfield, my local venue. They told me I should go to the Christmas Knees-Up and this was not to be missed. I booked accommodation and tickets the next day. When the event came around I went along and as I only really knew Ian and Barry Jones (from Monday Club and merch desks) and I had a bit of a cold I hung back about 20 rows. I still had a brilliant time and enjoyed Amsterdam, The Blow Monkeys and the surprises – in 2024 an appearance by one of Frankie Goes to Hollywood to sing with Ian and confetti canons.

It was so good it featured in my Top Ten of 2024. Part of the reason for this is the friends I made and caught up with at the After Parties. In December 2024, I went to a Wonder Stuff gig and bumped into half a dozen people from the Prowsey gig in Liverpool. They were getting a Lockdown Gang photo. I offered to take it and they said ‘Oh no! You are one of us now!’ and insisted I was in the photo too. These are people who are now good friends I see often at gigs and stand, dance, bounce at the barrier with. We look out for each other and reach out and support when we see each other struggling.

This time I catch up with some of the lockdown gang in a pub beforehand and we chat in the queue and meet up with more. It feels like being part of a music-loving family and we already know each other through a shared soundtrack.

2025 line-up is stellar

Unsurprisingly, I booked my annual leave and ticket before I heard who was support for this gig. However, if I had been dithering the support acts would definitely have pushed me to sort anything so I could be there.

Tom Hingley (ex Inspiral Carpets)

Tom’s set was a glorious singalong and you could tell both he and us were in the mood for a party. My favourite tracks were ‘Directing Traffik’ and ‘She comes in the fall.’ and all the songs lent themselves well to an acoustic set. I saw Tom later and gifted him a book as a thank you for the music. I showed him the 16 year old Sarah cow t-shirt photo and he was lovely and hung around for a quick chat.

Miles Hunt

Miles’ set was blistering and you could tell the musicians were all top of their games but also pushing to give 100% because they knew what was coming and that Ian and Amsterdam would leave everything on stage and they and the crowd would be exhausted and joyful by the end.

I also enjoyed being able to dance to a Miles acoustic set as they are often seated which I know is Miles’ preference. He was well up for a singalong as part of this event though and we were too. He played ‘that cow song’ with a grin and many of the crowd favourites. My personal favourites of the set were ‘Caught in my shadow’ and ‘Don’t let me down, gently’.

Now we have been suitably warmed up I take a quick toilet break and two people stop me to tell me they loved my set at Shiiine On!, two others tell me they love my poetry. I am doing something right. I have told myself only one t-shirt but I end up buying a Pele Christmas show one as well as the Hingley cow one.

Time for Amsterdam!

So, I know I am not going to be able to capture this elation in words. I was chatting with a couple of people after and we all said we felt it was wrapping up about 45 minutes into the Amsterdam set and then when we found out it wasn’t we were relieved and ready to dance for the full two-hour set!

The 14-piece band, ably captained by the energetic, enthusiastic and passionate Ian Prowse, are evidently a close-knit crew and buzz off each other on stage. Mikey, their Bez, has just the best moves and suit. They played many of the hits Amsterdam, Pele, Ian fans would expect. Favourites this time were ‘Home’ and ‘Name and Number’ and always ‘Dessie Warren’ and ‘Battle’.

And then the surprises came too – poetry by Rebecca Liverpoolpoet Riley, confetti canons and news about a new album and the airing of a new song with a 30-piece choir from Wakefield, She Sings.

And onwards…

When it is over we float out into the night and She Sings continue to sing on their way down Hotham Street, as Tom Hingley walks by with his guitar and we are off to the after party. I end up being one of the last standing at 5.30am!

On to Sunday pub and no-show show

I slept until almost midday which I never do. I am usually awake at 8, whatever time I get to sleep. I went to get some food and a 0% Guinness then to join some of the crew for beers, karaoke and chat about life, life with teenagers, event-planning, radio editing, books, shows, Shiiine On!

We are from the West Country, Belfast, Frome and some family friends of Ian’s. I came out of the toilet just as Fordy (who recognised me from stage at Shiiine) was singing Size of a Cow on the karaoke stage, so I bounced around enthusiastically to that.

Then, there came a point I had to leave the happy, tipsy crew to see if anyone had come to the venue I had booked for a show, which was a 25 minute walk away.

No audience for my show

Ian tells me as I am leaving ‘If no-one turns up, welcome to Showbiz! It happens to us all!’ and gave me a big hug in case I needed it. Turns out, I did! I meet James, my tech, and he shows me to the studio. I set up on stage and change into my show outfit and then I run through all the pieces and decide to record them so I feel I have made use of the space I have paid to hire. I will share some soon.

I walk back to the original pub to find everyone has left. I chat with the security guy who remembers who I was with earlier and I have a pint before ordering an Uber home. I chat with the taxi driver all the way home about music and he tells me how much he loves Metallica and the 15 minute journey flies by. He asks if I have any books with me and I sell him one. That is a first for me even though some close friends do joke ‘Sarah left the house… sells a book!’

Monday Pootle

I walk to town from my Wavertree B and B and visit Prince Rupert’s Tower (which is apparently on the Everton badge). I visited just because it was an interesting structure on a hill so I thought the photos might be good and I wanted to walk around it. Flagging a little in this photo (by day 3 I wasn’t the only one!)

And I am a sucker for old signs and peeling paint too.

Mathew Street photo

I arrived at The Cavern Pub and got the, now traditional photo, of me outside by the bricks.

Monday Club

I know how full the Cavern Pub is when Monday Club starts so I make sure I am there before 6. It is so good to see Barry Jones again and I will always remember his welcome (in Ian’s absence in August 2024) the first time we met at the Monday Club. Ian had promised Barry would look after me and he totally did. He made me feel welcome and at ease in a space that was pretty scary to be performing poetry at when most acts were musicians and I didn’t know anyone else. It was great to see Barry again and catch up.

Some Lockdown crew friends arrived – Darin, Nicola, Mo and cheered me on when I ended up being up around 8th act, the first poet of the evening (out of 3) and the only female poet. Ian mentioned the fact they were proud of the fact so many female acts feel safe and comfortable in the space to attend alone and I would totally agree with that.

Monday Club performers, if they are anything like me, feel the weight of the history of Mathew Street and Monday Club (12 years of original material only – almost every Monday!). The way everyone pushes themselves to be the best they can be in the moment is testament to Ian and Barry’s steering.

Another friend who I met at Shiiine On, Sarah Bant, sent the following photos of me and I didn’t even know she was in the audience with her partner who was performing too.

Monday Club runs 8-12 every Monday apart from Beatles week. It is free entry, a very welcoming space to poets and musicians and I recommend it highly.

So, how it works is Ian puts you on the list but he doesn’t tell you a running order. I am not sure if he even knows the order or just decides who/what he feels would follow best from who is in the room. I secretly think that he doesn’t tell you so you don’t have chance to run away.

When Ian comes into the crowd and grins and says ‘You’re up next, okay?’ I am shaky for several reasons. One, confidence a little shot by no-show show the night before. Two, the fact Ian is one of the biggest cheerleaders for my book/show and there is a reason his words are first on the back. When we met after the gig at The Parish in Huddersfield in Feb 2024 he said to me ‘How’s the book going then? Are you working at getting it out there!’ This steeled me to get it out in the world. Three, I tried to do a political poem and then one of the memorised ones in August and threw myself so I lost my way in the memorised one and had to go to the book… I didn’t want a repeat of that.

There was someone in my life a while ago who used to send me simple messages that said ‘Go!’ at a point in my life when I needed that and it feels like Ian is one of those people who knows when creatives need that extra push to take a project or passion over the line into existing, take that final jump that involves self-belief, courage and strength. I am glad I can count him among my friends.

You Tube link – My set is here https://youtu.be/7k0BBLSCdys

On to Eric’s

As the night is over but we are buzzing and not ready to go home we go on to Eric’s for another hour or so, I do have a video of me singing Starman with Bowie bunting around my neck as I am supposed to be leaving for the Uber I have booked…

Monday morning when I have to leave Liverpool

I didn’t book my train home until 3pm so I spent a couple of hours in the World Museum where they have lockers. Then, with scuffed nails and a little sad to be leaving and worn out I say goodbye to Mo at the station.

Prowsey poem

I decided it was time Prowsey had his own poem, well, it is about the whole weekend, all the people who came together for it, but this would have not happened in this way without him. This is the longest poem I have written in quite some time. It is a love poem to Liverpool and last weekend.

Listen here on Soundcloud or read below:

https://soundcloud.com/user-956777371-966720437/we-did-it-for-love-m4a

We did it for love

Pilgrimages from Amsterdam, Belfast, Frome,
from Huddersfield, Cornwall and Brum
to gather here in our annual Prowsey home.
We meet in Lockdown crew corners,
share hugs and stories, grins and joy. 
We’ve saved annual leave all year for this.

Christmas starts here for me in this place
of bouncing at barriers, or balcony braced
at this knees-up that will carry us, lighter, 
back to our day jobs, to teenaged travails
and for some of us to our solo spaces. 

Six hours of shipmates and mosh pit immersion.
Six hours of forgetting about pain, sadness, work.
Life’s demands are left at the door 
in the dark December night 
as friends are re-met 
at merch desks and maps, 
cloakrooms, the bar, in the crowd.

Double support spots shine, sing out, uplift.
Double support, if you don’t count the crowd,
but you should, because all are one,
we have singalong status
and we are promised surprises
so, we don’t move from our spaces.

After one hundred minutes
of glorious Amsterdam symbiosis
of crowd and 14-piece band, 
led by our more than capable Captain,
some Jonny and Prowsey pogo,
Amsterdam horns, Fiddle of Fire, poetry, 
Andy’s The Leaving of Liverpool rendition. 

On come a thirty-piece choir, ‘She Sings’, 
there is new album talk, 
an unaired song, 
confetti canon excitement. 

One of the last ones standing at 5am 
because I do not want this night to end 
and others don’t either, 
so, we drink on, we dance on, 
we make more friends, some swap gifts. 
I gain a hat I wear into the rain. 

I wake still buzzing 
on what happened last night 
on what we saw. 
That show means we are walking around
glowing with belief of the possible, 
lit with the power 
of music, song and crowds. 

Some of us spend Sunday afternoon together,
dance to Fordy’s rendition of The Stuffies, 
chat the world to rights,
make more connections, share affection, cement friendships. 
Time to talk about our lives, anxieties, wonder.
We share passions, process, plans. 

My personal Sunday night disappointment 
doesn’t take long to lift 
because I know Monday Club 
will be extra-ordinary, life-affirming, high-quality. 

With history on our shoulders –
of Mathew Street, of Monday Club,
of musicians and poets before us, 
some of us make shaky steps onto the stage,
stuttering starts, 
but the audience’s full attention bolsters us,
their quiet watching gives us confidence. 

Ian’s bigging up of us all.

Barry’s hugs.

And then we find it, breathe into it,
steel ourselves to give our best
because the Cavern Pub walls
deserve nothing less 
than all we can give
in that moment.

Tom, Milo, Ian and Amsterdam 
led the way on Saturday.
Gave ALL they could. 
And we know THAT 
is what is expected here.

No covers. All original material.
Sometimes aired for the first time.
Vulnerable, honest, raw, courageous, generous.

Knowing this is a safe space to share
brings us all closer. 
We touch shoulders, pat backs, 
congratulate these people 
who were strangers 
before their sharing of song or poem,
we feel we know them better now, 
since they got up on stage, 
or danced between chairs, 
clapped, cheered, chanted the Sausage song,
became an active part of it all. 

Those who are left sing and leap along 
to ‘I did it for love!’ 

Some of us carry the love on to Eric’s.
My first time there.
We groove, bounce and hug into the night. 

I found secret ceilings.
I danced in the dark. 
I Cotton-Eyed Joe’d. 

I sang Starman wearing Bowie bunting
when I was supposed to be on the way 
to my Uber. 

In a chip-nailed dawn I have to go home
but Liverpool is unaware of what it has done,
my heart remains there
in its shining lights, 
its wet concrete, 
the music in its bricks, 
its flaking painted doors, 
the low light of sun over
Prince Rupert’s Tower.  
And these things are now in my heart. 

My Pele nails and my book-themed nails 
are scratched and show signs 
of a well-lived weekend. 

Scraps of red, yellow, green, blue 
are left on tabletops, mantelpieces,
at traffic lights.

Or sparkle in hair from hugging, 
on Harrington Street,
Mathew Street,
Hope.