A lovely dawn broke over Shed 37vii. Inexplicably, everything seemed to be ready. The signs were up, the loos were in, the chill trailer hummed contentedly (mind you, so did the loos later in the day), and Hampshire's thriving community of thieving caravan-dwelling bastards had failed to break in and nick everything from the tent, as is their Yuman Rights, innit?
Even the heavy shower that visited late morning did nothing but leave the air brighter and clearer for the glorious afternoon.
The Old Gits had had a busy Friday. Here we see Todd surveying the stage. I'm not absolutely sure, but it appears from the angle of his leg that he has just dropped one.
Here's Keanu Reeves turning up to play drums. Sadly, no sign of a PVC-clad Carrie Moss.
And here's John re-writing the set-list. And what fool gave him the seat next to the beer? Nice bag, by the way, John.
The day went fabulously. The caterers kept blowing all the fuses (luckily, a recent re-wire of the supply meant that it was their fault, not mine), but the speeched were brilliant, no-one got upset, no-one fought, and the sun shone.
The Old Gits were to be prefaced by the happy couple doing their first dance. What we weren't quite ready for was the fact that the whole dance floor filled within seconds of them starting, and so we had to drop our two slow opening numbers, and launch straight into the uptempo stuff.
The floor stayed full for the whole evening. Young and old, drunk and sober, underdressed and overdressed...I think we went down rather well.
Thanks to Jesse for making the trip from Brighton to play, and to Dan for persevering with a damaged thumb.
A top night.
Update: as a result overwhelming demand, here's a pic of a PVC-clad Carrie Moss.
