At the arrivals hall I doubted then saw him holding a red rose

In 1992 I travelled from Adelaide to Poland and, on a whim, went to the Warsaw Summer Jazz Days hoping to see Jack Bruce. At the concert hall I overheard an Englishman struggling to order hamburgers, intervened and told him, “She’ll be right, mate. Just pay the money, the food will be ready in 10 minutes.” That was how I met Dave, Jack Bruce’s guitar technician, and later that evening we wandered across to the Akwarium jazz club to listen to jam sessions over beers.

It was not love at first sight; he reminded me of the mullet-wearing headbangers I had grown up with. He did, however, have kindness in his eyes, a presence of assurance and an easy openness that won me over. He invited me to England, then said he would meet me in Mexico, and within days had begun preparing a visa while I rearranged my travel plans despite my family’s scepticism.

Seven weeks after we first met I arrived in Mexico City late at night, anxious in the crowded arrivals hall and sure I had been stood up.

Mexico, Mexico City

adelaide, poland, warsaw, jack bruce, guitar technician, akwarium, mexico city, arrivals hall, red rose, visa