And so the last of our epic run of gigs and the first of quite a jaunt of private affairs! We were the evening turn at an indeterminate wedding, and Silverton, the bastard half brother of the village we call home, the venue.
Now given the inter village rivalry (a result of a Thorverton pig being indecently assaulted by a horny Tanner in the 14th century), we decided not to hoist the Banner and instead pretended to be Sicilian. Bad move - turned out the groom was from Napoli. And like his nautical namesake he had travelled the world then run aground in South Devon.
I digress - pig fondling and maritime history is for another day. Asides from the village busybody complaining about the noise at the ungodly hour of 9.15, the gig was wonderful. The memo about non stop dancing had obviously been translated well. Having already conquered time and space, it transpires the Tones transcend language and culture too.
So, we finally got to tick 'a floor full of stylish Italians shaking their bits to the hits' off our list, and a fantastic evening was had by all. Well all except for that complaining old sourpuss. A Mr Tanner, apparently. Odd fellow. Smelt of bacon.
21st Birthday party next. With our reputations?
Love you byee!
X
- posted from a wireless telegraph
So, we finally got to tick 'a floor full of stylish Italians shaking their bits to the hits' off our list, and a fantastic evening was had by all. Well all except for that complaining old sourpuss. A Mr Tanner, apparently. Odd fellow. Smelt of bacon.
21st Birthday party next. With our reputations?
Love you byee!
X
- posted from a wireless telegraph
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