Sunday

I woke up still tired from the previous day, but gave a good account of myself to some very appreciative visitors.
I went to play at the pub in the evening, and it was disappointingly quiet. So was the old town. It was deserted. I suppose everyone was broke after the previous bank-holiday weekend.
The people whose mother's eightieth birthday I played for came in, which was a nice surprise. I went outside for a natter and a fag with the barman. While we were there, two very lost people rolled up and asked if either of us spoke French. Well yours truly owned up, and they came into the pub. It was funny, in a strange sort of way. One woman showed them how to play the spoons, so they spent some time doing that before sampling pickled onions and eggs, and proceeding to the steak and kidney pudding. It was a fun night.