Coal.
In pre-industrial Yorkshire you would dig your own. For free.
Later, when the mills or the pits claimed your waking hours, and you had no time to dig your coal, there would be a man with a horse and cart coming along the street - selling coal.
Welcome to the future.
Lancashire pubs, where I learned and played folk songs, are no longer an environment which supports this culture.
Music, like the water that falls from the sky, has to be paid for.
But the telly is for free -- so that we know what to think.
Compare the two -
Television stifles conversation, communication, -- sealing each in their delineated bubble.
A good jam unites the players and audience and people benefit from a shared experience.
This is not to be encouraged. Obviously.
I don't think dull people move to Spain - I've not met any yet.
I have met a lot of musicians, and joined a tentative jazz combo as tenor sax.
If I can get it together with the new double bass which should arrive next week, there will be people looking for a bassist.
The local flamenco singer often walks up the canyon through my garden, and sometimes, if he feels like it, he sings.
He doesn't charge.
Any bar welcomes a bit of a sing-song, spot of jazz, flash of Flamenco, (which sounds to me like the music of childbirth).
We are still at the stage of evolution where, though you can park wherever you like with impunity, so can everyone else -- so you act with consideration and so does everyone else.
In short, to a great extent, we are treated like grown-ups.