It was a very staid affair, mostly quiet singing with a group of friends and a small glass of shandy or lemonade. Though the hours were long and the mixture of people dwindled to a smaller group of harmonious but well intened singers, with the occaisional steady guitar piece thrown in,the evening passed without incident or over the top merriment.

As Saturday approached and the sun began to shine, the visitors silently walked the length and breadth of the village lost in their own thoughts. A small audience gathered at the village institute and sang a round or two, followed by some psalms for the more laid back.

The evening passed quietly with a small group of musicains playing melencholy tunes for a seated and respectable group of visitors and local people from the village who had come to laug*** (Sorry) Marvel at the spectacle.

After the odd waltz, the crowd returned to the local pub inorder to rest their voices and obtain some light refreshment, which included bisciuts and fruit juice. There, they quietly sang some music of solemn resolution and resolved that as the hour was approaching ten thirty at night, an early bed would help to offset the rigours of the day.

On Sunday, all bright and early like young spring chickens on a May day,all awoke with a feeling of joy in their hearts. Then after pleasant conversation and fond farewells, they left as quietly as they had come, leaving only a memory. Bye.

It was a gentle and relaxing weekend.

Eric.