Mmm, Sweet Little Kittens

So, Husky Rescue. I am in love with this band*. I want to elope with them to Helsinki and have beautiful dreamy conversations about kittens under the stars for the rest of my life.

I can't think when I last went to a more civilised, ethereal gig - Bush Hall is one of those classy venues with rococo plasterwork, crystal chandeliers and a strict no-smoking policy that was only occasionally flouted by Companion A. Last night they even had nice chairs and tables laid out, of which we took full advantage.

The band played on a tiny stage illuminated by candles, whereupon they performed every single song from their super Country Falls album, punctuated by singer Reeta's childlike observations delivered in a very sweet Finnish accent. Example: "This song is about...very dangerous stuff." (This before ambling into a fey, dreamy rendition of, erm, Alice Cooper's "Poison". Fantastic.)

Companion B, who had apparently been expecting "an angry man with a guitar", was particularly struck by Reeta's alleged resemblance to Paris Hilton. Luckily I wasn't wearing my glasses, and thus avoided having my evening spoiled by this unfortunate state of affairs. No, it was all just splendid.

*And* I'm seeing them tomorrow lunchtime on the Isle of Wight. And then I'm going to stow away in the back of their van and never come back.

* I shudder to think what dreadful Observer supplement demographic this puts me in. I fear the worst.