John began to complain that he couldn't see the performance so Mick lifted him onto his shoulders for a grandstand view. They suddenly realised that they had discovered a new game, and spent the rest of the night riding around on each others shoulders, while the many onlookers bought them more beer and laid bets on how long it be before they fell over (they all lost!).

Finally the concert ended (sorry about the lack of details, but nobody remembers much about it); Steeleye left the stage and the audience left in seconds. The lights came on to reveal a sea of smashed beakers and Morris Men (?). Our heroes said thank you to Steeleye (“That's all right lads, glad you enjoyed it. You certainly were in good voice tonight.”), and piled into the van and headed home.

Culinary note:

In the space of two hours at the concert, Mick and John consumed the amazing number of six sausages each. Anyone considering an attempt on this record on the return trip is strongly advised to take a plentiful supply of soft toilet paper, Johnson's Baby powder, and their cycle clips.

Somehow, Len managed to pilot the van home without hitting anything and we all made it safely, though Len missed a turning and spent half an hour getting off the motorway, Mick got lost again (big housing estate, see) and Toddy said goodnight to the dog in the usual friendly manner.