As idyllic spots go it would be hard to top Lissadell, and it was in this lovely setting that Mrs Cohen’s little lad and his first rate band gave of their best recently. Cohen, no slouch at the verse himself, kicked off with a few lines about the venue by the late WB Yeats before launching an impeccable three and a half hour show that drew seven (count them) encores from a twelve thousand strong crowd, most of whom stood up and sang along in the last half hour, despite the chill rain.

Amazingly fit for a man in his seventies, Cohen oozed charm and style. In fact, he makes style look like it’s going out of style. (If I wanted Clive James to write this I’d’ve hired him – Ed.) There was perhaps a little overmuch of the “You’re such a lovely audience” stuff and I could’ve done without the Webb Sisters and their harp routine, but at least Cohen wasn’t wearing a leprechaun outfit. And they did all the hits “everybody knows” by (broken) heart. I’d forgotten just how many classics there were. ‘Suzanne’, ‘Famous Blue Raincoat’, ‘So Long Marianne’ (I admit I sang this myself in my cracked Bob Dylan quaver), ‘There Ain’t No Cure For Love’. Sharon Robinson knocked off a fantastic solo or two and Messrs Beck and Metzger gave the younger members of the crowd some guitar lessons. Believe me, you won’t find a deeply religious old guy, moving a giant crowd to stand and cheer his deeply pessimistic philosophy so unapologetically anywhere else except possibly the Vatican. You should have been there. Hallelujah.