MANDALA!
We had to put this in capitals because OHMERGERSH what an amazing place! When Indian and Moroccan interior design meet Sheffield. It is the hippie-est, most vibey-est (totally a word) place you could possibly go. Hippie vibes? Yes. Homemade scones? YES. Average live music choices? YASS.
So, the intrepid explorers set off to Mandala Cafe, Meersbrook. Beth parked about 5 miles away down a side street. Spent twenty minutes trying to parallel park then just abandoned the car. We were there somewhat early and enjoyed the outdoor seating while waiting for Adam to arrive. It felt like the first and only day of summer - the sun was beaming down and it was sweltering.
Soon, Adam sauntered over the road, almost in slow motion, hair blowing in the breeze whipped up by passing traffic, like an urban Timoteí advert. Beth’s limp hair stuck to her forehead with sweat - as fashion before practicality got the better of her and she slowly started to smell like an egg that had been left in the sun for a few years - if eggs could sweat and the sun also smelled like the mens changing room at a gym - and this particular gym specialised in the olympic sport of smelling like a dumpster.
Ian and Katy parked up directly outside the cafe moments later.
Beth: Can you park there?
Ian: Yes.
Beth: Oh.
Katy: Where have you parked?
Dean: Just down a side street - somewhere in Canada.
Adam very kindly spent some time with us, rearranging all the furniture to make room for the band. The intimate nature of the gig was something completely different to usual. Guests sat and ate scones and rocky road and we spent half the set singing and playing and the other half chattering, weaving tales and exchanging stories. We had a chance to get into some of the roots and meaning behind ‘Taller Than Mountains’ and it was lovely, in a morbid sort of way, to connect over shared grief.
It’s difficult to put into words how well looked after we were by Adam. The entire vibe of the evening was laidback and his passion for his art could be seen in absolutely everything. You’d be hard pressed to find a nicer place for a cuppa and a cake. He’s created a real community hub for musicians and makers alike, with little shelves for homemade candles and stands for little indie-makers earrings. Mandala is hosting loads of bands throughout the year, but if music isn’t your thing (wh-why are you here? It can’t be the blogs, they’re awful. It’s the pictures of cats, isn’t it?) then there are also cocktail nights and psychic evenings too. In a world full of Starbucks and Cafe Nero - be a Mandala. You won’t regret it.
As per usual, there are no pictures of the 12 string player. We don’t even say his name anymore. He is just, the 12 string player. We feel this makes up for him being the loudest member of the band the rest of the time.
Or maybe it’s because he has a secret identity. Who is he? What’s his story? Chartered accountant by day, folk singer by night. Who knows? We do it for his own protection.
Love, harmonies, cwtch,
Kootch x