A return was then made to the van, pausing only to replenish the dwindling stock of sweets, chocolates and cream cakes (there were already a couple of crates of beer in the van). We roared off, a little shakily, towards the Stadthalle, while Toddy and Andy discussed their plans for action. There were obviously going to be some problems, for the management had denied that Steeleye were performing there, and that they even existed.

SS - “What are you lot doing here?”

EE - “You've been cancelled - we're in your place.”

SS - “You've drunk a lot of beer in here, haven't you”

EE - “Oh, that's nothing; we sank 130 bottles on Tuesday!”

SS - “130 bottles? What are you doing in Germany?”

EE - “Teaching in a school.”

SS - “Das f***ing hell'”

“In that case, how are we all going to get into the place?” the Earls chorused. “Oh… Er…” Toddy replied (A man of decision, is Toddy). On arrival at the Stadthalle, he marched round the back to try and find a way in. He soon returned, and led the others in through the back door, where they were met by some of the band's advance party of assistants, technicians etc., who told them to wait and ‘make yourselves at home’.

So there they sat, feet on the table, beer in hand, among a rapidly growing pile of empties. They had just started to amuse themselves by throwing bottle tops at each other, having detached the bottles first, when the door suddenly opened, and THEY walked in. Their faces registered shock at the sight of 11 Morris men and ladies in kit, lounging around and drinking beer. Then someone recognised Toddy.

This invitation was quickly taken up as beer was brought from the van and we ‘made ourselves at home’. “What are we going to do when they arrive, Toddy?” - “Oh ...er... ask if we can dance sometime during the performance.”

And now, dear readers, you know the origin of those obscure t-shirts that the Earls wear.