He was keen to help when we told him of the nice lady outside who had requested the performance of a lullaby to usher her beautiful children into the Land of Nod. Minutes later we see the rapid return of a red-faced John Sails who had only managed a few bars of Brahms' Lullaby before receiving the verbal abuse of his life and a suggestion of a new position to place his instrument. We never played there again. By now the lurching around in the aisle has very little to do with the road surface, but, can be attributed to the cumulative effects of Newcastle Brown Ale. Sighs all along the row and then a shout.
Heads turn to see a particularly drunken cornet player swaying in the doorway of the bus.
His grip on reality and his sense of balance seem to all relax at once and he tumbles from the step. Momentum and a belly full of beer take him clear of the bus and deposit him on the back of one of the already peeing bandsmen. Another shout, this time a cry of annoyance and fear is followed by a blur of arms and legs as the two, entwined, bounce and tumble the thirty feet or so to the bottom of the embankment. Through the gloom it can be discerned that this debacle has not staunched our peeing members flow even with the inebriate cornetist still clinging to his back. It was Summer 1996.