I was delighted to be able to see a great cellist play live on Tuesday night, in a small arts centre on the outskirts of Oxford. Barney Morse-Brown, who goes by the name of Duotone is an experimental cellist with Baroque and Classical tendencies who made an album last year that cheered me through our long, cold winter. His songwriting is both sad and witty, and the whole thing an impassioned embrace of strings. I don't really like trying to talk to musicians after shows so I went away thinking about how much I would like to tell him what an impact his music had had on me, and wondering how I might do it.

The next night was a whole other show- Tony Allen's 70th birthday, a long musical party for a great Nigerian musician who is far more interesting behind the drum kit than he is infront of the mic. Weary, I left the after-show huddle and, weighed down by metres of Nigerian dress, made my way home.

At London Bridge I changed buses, only to see the 35 pull away before I could get to it. I settled down to read my book at the bus stop, wishing I had left the show earlier.

A couple of minutes later, I looked up and saw a man who looked like Barney. I looked back down at my book, assuming I was wrong, then did a double-take when I noticed he had a cello bow in his hand. It was him!

I went up and introduced myself; he must have been as surprised as I. We were waiting for the same bus- he was staying not far from my flat- so we rode the top deck together and I told him how much I loved his album. He looked a little surprised, perhaps, or maybe just shy. After he got off I wanted to proclaim to all the Nigerians on the bus that they had just travelled with a great musical talent, but it all seemed so unlikely so I kept quiet.