Monday summer night in South London. 30 degrees at midnight. First heatwave and the heat is still dry. The place is heaving inside and out, people spilled out onto the pavement. In the corner, a whole load of guitars, mandolins, violins, musical saw, clarinet, bass and box drum. Shoes off, barefoot on the deck. Hollering and harmonies. Birthday cake, sleeping dog. The regulars hold up the bar in their regular stools. Businessmen and bus drivers. It’s jam night at The Dizzy.