DJ Rosie

It all started when she heard Michael Kiwanuka's "I'm getting ready" on 6Music. Suddenly this little piping voice was singing out the refrain "oh Lord!" at random moments. Next came Feist's "How come you never go there" (translated into "hup de lola") and DJ Rosie began to compile her playlist (with her parents' help) of her favourite tunes.

Some she'd heard on the radio - Graham Coxon, The Fall - or playing somewhere in a cafe - The Clash's "London Calling" was an instant hit. Others were favourite songs from CDs - Laura Veirs' "Oh Why" and Harry Bellafonte's "Jump Down Spin Around". Dad snuck a few on, hoping to either improve her Spanish (Manu Chao's  "Me gustas tu" proved popular) or educate her about Bristol ("It's the doggy one" Rosie shouts every time Bucky's "Hi Fido" comes on).

However, without a doubt, the most popular song - added by Dad after her reaction to Graham Coxon's latest single - is Blur's "Song 2". Thank goodness it's only 2 minutes long!

Time warp - by Theo

"It's just like being at a gig from 4 years ago" said Suzy as we filed out of the Croft's backroom after an ear-drumming splitting set from Big Joan. With Kate and I not the only Bristol emigres returning to the gig-going fold, and many familiar faces on stage, last Saturday's line up of Bravo Brave Bats, Big Joan and Glis Glis really did make us feel like we were partying like it was 2007.

With my parents kindly staying over to babysit Rosie, Kate and I managed to get out for the weekend and see some live music at one of our early flirting grounds: The Croft. Arriving early, we hung out with Obaro and Suzy from Glis Glis before they sound-checked. My old promoting partner Anna arrived with Lou in tow, Annette from Big Joan joined us, and over the course of the evenings we managed to see more old pals than we had time to properly catch up with. Must. Get. Out. More.

The bands were all ace, as usual. I say that as, although we had only seen Big Joan before (many, many times), between Glis Glis and Bravo Brave Bats there were 3/4 of the sadly missed You & the Atom Bomb on stage. So it felt a bit "as usual". I really should write a gig review.... but I've got two lessons to plan for tomorrow, so I guess I'd better stop procrastinating and write those instead.

Gig- by Theo

Here was a first. Kate and I, who met and romanced each other at various live music venues across Bristol and beyond, venturing forth to our first gig together since Rosie's birth. With Aunty Hermione (Rosie's aunt - my sister) on babysitting duties Kate and I sallied forth to The Cube for Rachael Dadd's album launch. Typically, we forgot the camera!

Luckily we'd bought tickets as it was sold out - indeed we saw our friend Obaro as he got turned away. To be honest if we hadn't had tickets we might not have made it, as we'd had a tough night the night before and were both pretty knackered. Still we're very glad we did.

Kate Stables, aka This is the Kit, opened proceedings with a flurry of new songs plus a choice selection from her latest album "Wriggle out the Restless" which has been getting lots of play on BBC 6 Music. She was as captivating and charming as ever.

Kate and Rachael's music is well known to us as I regularly used to put them on bills back in my promoting days, but what followed was a completely novel experience for us in more ways than one. Ichi, Rachael's Japanese husband, entered the stage on stilts, to which various bells and shakers were attached, while playing a harmonica through a fantastically preposterous mustache. It got sillier from there on. Playing a variety of standard and non-standard instruments - including steel drum, trumpet, a home made lyre, a typewriter, a home made banjo (one of the stilts), balloons, ping pong balls and a drum machine - he quickly had the audience in hysterics especially when he added endearing falsetto word play over the top. Quite, quite surreal.

By now it was approaching 11 and Kate and I were practically propping each other up in our seats, so after 4 beautiful songs of Rachael's set we decided to make a discreet exit clutching her latest album to try to make up for what we missed.

We're back!

O tannenbaum, o tannenbaum

We're starting to get into a Christmas mood. Madrid is looking pretty, with lights strung out over the streets and little markets popping up all over the place. We've got what must be one of the smallest Christmas trees ever: it's a cypress tree we picked up at the Rastro last weekend. We didn't want to buy a fake one, and we couldn't find a real fir so this was the closest we could get. Still it looks very pretty.We'd already been availing ourselves of the piles of Turron and Panettoni beginning to make their seasonal appearance in the shops, and yesterday we stuck all our Christmas cards in the post. Plus, we embarked on a mammoth Christmas-music playlist compilation on Spotify yesterday to ensure our first Madrid Christmas is suitably sound-tracked.

Naturally we've gone for the cheesy party tracks - The Pogues, Boney M, Band Aid - but for when we just want to chill we've found some lovely versions of some traditional hymns; Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band singing "I saw three ships" and an instrumental version of "The Holly wears the Crown" by Martin Simpson - weirdly we couldn't find a decent vocal version of "The Holly and the Ivy" though there were loads to choose from - they were all too slow. We found a cracking Dolly Parton version of "Go tell it to the Mountain", there's some Jethro Tull, Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong (controversially, perhaps, we've gone for his version of "White Christmas" rather than Bing's). Speaking of Bing Crosby, his duet with David Bowie was annoyingly prefaced by 2 minutes of chatter, so we picked the Jackson Five for "The Little Drummer Boy" instead. There's Handel, Troika, Gaudete and the Snowman in our playlist, but what's really making me nostalgic and bringing up memories of Christmases past is Nat King Cole singing "Holy Night" and "O Tannenbaum"; it reminds me of Christmases in Kenya as my parents would often play it back in the days of cassettes. Once we moved back to England and bought a CD player he disappeared from our Christmas soundtracks. I'm glad he's back.

Kate´s first Madrid gig

Kate's first gig in Madrid predictably went down a storm and resulted in the venue manager asking her back to play another concert; this despite the fact she only played two songs during the interlude between the main act's first and second sets!

Back when we first moved to Madrid, Kate replied to an ad placed by a guitarist in 'In Madrid', the English language what's on magazine. Through him she met Owain, with whom she's written a couple of songs, and through Owain, Jean-Bruce, a Gabonese singer-songwriter who immediately co-opted her into the fluctuating line up of Jean-Bruce and the Fangs.
Sadly, having been away for a couple of months, Kate had missed all the rehearsals but Jean-Bruce invited her to play a couple of her songs in between sets at a tiny little place called Pipo Cultura in Lavapies. More like a large sitting room in a crustie's flat than a bar, the tiny space was rammed - a big advantage of coopting lots of friends into a performance, it means you get a bigger audience! Jean-Bruce's sets were excellent, his songs easing from folk to soul, switching between English, Spanish and his native Fon. Kate picked a newish song 'Smile' and the old classic 'Dirty Bitch Tango', both of which went down really well with the mostly Spanish crowd despite the rather dodgy 'pa' (a guitar amp!). Here's to the next one.

Curry and cocktail combinations

Sitting in the park near our flat on another beautiful afternoon we got a text from our friend Belen offering us two tickets to see Sisters of Mercy. Tempting as this offer was we already had plans that evening to go and see one of Kate's colleagues perform in his funk band The Combinations. Besides, Kate was quick to point out, the hot, vampy-one was no longer in the band.

Naturally we couldn't spurn this kind offer out of hand, so we had to reply with a counter-offer - come for a curry! So Belen and our Venezuelan friends, Natalie and David, arrived (nearly on time) at Chez Berry-Salisbury for a couple of picante veggie curries with rice before we headed out en-masse to the gig venue in Calle Bernardino.

Our first gig in Madrid - a shocking statistic for two people who met at a gig and regularly used to attend 3 or 4 a week back in Bristol - was a mixed bag. The band sounded great, but the long, narrow shape of the bar, the low stage and press of people meant we could barely see them. Plus it seemed to be more of a social affair than a genuine collection of music fans. The place was clearly a refuge for English-teachers and previous Pueblo-Ingles participants. Kate's colleagues kept coming up to say "Hello", Belen renewed several old acquaintances and I ran into a couple of people I'd met the night before. Poor David and Natalie were a bit stranded!

As it hit midnight a collective decision to decamp somewhere less loud was made - if we were all bent on chatting then we should clearly be doing it somewhere where the ambient volume didn't require us to shout at each other. Wandering up the street a little way, the Spaniards wrapped up warm against the positively polar (18 degrees celsius) temperatures - I was in short sleeves - we discovered a Secret Garden just off Plaza Espana.

This beautiful little bar - El Jardin Secreto - was decked out in quasi-colonial style with wooden furniture, natural fibre ceilings and whirling fans and was also home to some of the most polite and helpful waiters we've encountered in Spain - Belen was almost in shock! They also had an astounding list of postres (puddings) and cocktails, so naturally we made a couple of selections. Our tongues wagged until late into the night before we finally had our traditional argument about who would pay the bill (we wanted to pay as the others had bought the drinks in the first bar, they wanted to pay as we had cooked - in the end I had to slip some 'petrol' money into Belen's coat) we headed home well satisfied after a lovely, impromptu night out.

Crooked Timber

This a public service announcement from the People's Committee for Good Taste in Music.

Comrades,

We've been a bit slow on the uptake here, but one of the best bands that you've never heard off have just released a new album.

Those of you who were at our wedding might remember the fabulous Babel who played a storming set to round off the celebrations. Well their long awaited new album "Crooked Timber" has just come out on a small UK Independent label called People Tree Records.



You can buy the album from itunes, amazon and play.

Do it. Do it now.

Underground Railroad

http://www.the-fly.co.uk/words/reviews/live-reviews/3208/underground-railroad

We went up to Toulouse yesterday to see Underground Railroad a French band we know quite well; I once organised a UK tour for them. My review for The Fly is above - it was an ace show and wonderful to hang out with Raphael, Marion and JB again.

Turns out they are playing Barcelona next month - we'll probably see them there too!

Rocket Festival, Saturday

We completed our Friday night with a 0200 Main Stage rendezvous with an Italian gypsy band called Circus Abusivo, easily the best thing on the MS since the festival began (from what I'm told - I spent most of Friday interviewing people, editing the interviews and sending them to my old work, BBC Radio Bristol) then completed our night's revelling with a bounce around to Village Disco in naff Ozzie form in Cantina Galactica. "Nellie The Elephant" and Rod Stewart were on the playlist, you couldn't fault it really. We got back to the van some time after three, after stopping at a stall for chocolate and churros. When in Spain...

Later that same day, we emerged after a reasonably decent amount of sleep and headed straight for the healing field where I had a shiatsu massage from a lovely chap called Alan, with whom we'd got chatting the day before. He's lived in Spain since the eighties, when he joined the hippie exodus fleeing the horrors of Thatcher's Britain. He did a great job, I've had hardly a twinge from my dodgy right arm ever since.

Much of Saturday daytime was spent ambling around the site in that time-honoured festival way, but we did stop off in the Lux tent to watch an improv band comprising Clyde, the ukele-playing frontman, a harmonising woman with a puppet, an Italian playing a drum and Barry The Box, busily bashing away, as he had during a gap in the music at Cantina Galactica on Thursday night. What they lacked in preparation they made up with enthusiasm and the gambit of giving the audience three bottles of home-made wine to share (providing someone had a corkscrew - Theo did) guaranteed them a rousing reception. They did their last number among their spectators, with the grand finale involving everyone spinning on the spot then collapsing into a group hug.
We greatly enjoyed Lazy Habits, a white UK hiphop crew in Cantina Galactica and willingly received one of the free CDs they gave out from the stage (this habit of bribing the audience is something I would tend to encourage...there was a lot of it going on at the Rocket). After that, a fabulously costumed drum'n'bass rendition of the Wife Of Bath's tale by the Eat Prunes Collective in the Lux tent caught our attention - quality stuff.

Possibly the most enjoyable Main Stage act came next - Rrradio Gee, a self-styled pikey band who got the early evening crowd madly a-jigging to their fast-paced Irish folk-rock. I was so hot after all that jumping around, I opted to take a free shower when the water-spraying fire engine came by to damp down the dust in the main arena. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine myself at Glastonbury.

A Bristol band, Zen Hussies were next and they were most enjoyable with their mixture of ska and swing (they finished their set with a Christmas song set in Melksham - suitably random).
After that, it was back to Sheena to get into fancy dress. The theme was space, so we fashioned some alien costumes out of tin foil, empty water bottles, starry glitter and UK forces issue light sticks, which were included when we bought our van. The effect was pretty decent, we thought and it certainly got some heads turning when we went back onto the site some time after 11pm.
It was noticeably busier as loads of Spaniards had arrived, as predicted by the festival regulars.
We enjoyed the Spanish band, Muchachito Bombero Infuerno, the first act I've seen to include an artist working on a painting as part of the gig (mind you, the set went on so long, Coldcut, who were on next, were an hour late starting) and we loved Beardyman, the champion beatboxer, who played to a packed Dance Tent.

Other highlights included attempting to reunite a guy called Rob with a Swedish girl called Lena - he'd met her in Malaga a couple of days earlier and had come to the Rocket with the express intention of tracking her down. We asked for an announcement to go out over the PA, but we still don't know if he found her.

We also met Kerine and Andy, attracted initially attracted by the excellence of their fancy dress as we all stopped at a stall for food. They gave us a flyer for an "alternative living" campsite on the Costa del Sol, which seemed like a good place for us to go and hide our damaged van for a while, so we resolved to give it a try.

The other great part about Saturday night was simply hanging out with Fran and Pete, our mates from the Grenada campsite and other buddies they'd collected, including Ayesha, who'd travelled to the festival from London alone after splitting up with her boyfriend a couple of weeks earlier. It was Fran's birthday, so much toasting involving Jack Daniels and coke went on - and what a place for a party! We caught a couple of songs from Coldcut before calling it a night sometime towards 5am.

Plus que change...

After a late start in Coimbra, Kate successfully navigated us to the Lisbon campsite, a drive of some 4 hours on the back-roads while my arms fried in the afternoon sun and we munched on juicy nectarines from a small shop in Porto.

Arriving early in the evening, I cooked while Kate played guitar, eating out under the shade of a eucalyptus. Later we sat in Sheena, read and played rummikub while listening to Bonnie Prince Billy, Feist and Joe Volk. Almost exactly like being back in our flat in Clifton.

Except we're in Lisbon's municipal campsite inside a 2 x 6 metre squared Madza E2200 van surrounded by a purr of feral cats.

It's a funny old world sometimes.

Soundtracks of our sojourn

As we drive we mostly listen to music on our laptop, the records of which get published on our Last FM profile. However we´ve a few CDs to keep us entertained when the laptop battery dies:

An ace compilation CD, a wedding present from Kate's old gigging & hitch-hiking friend Wigs, featuring Bob Dylan, Midlake, Bright Eyes, Beiruit, Herman Dune and loads more. It's great and many of the tracks (and artists) were new to us.

The Flying Club Cup by Beiruit which I left in the Sheena's stereo - cheers for introducing us to them Anna, as it's become a firm favourite.

Tied to the Mast By The Hinkley Veltones - an awesome wedding present from Steven Marr, one of the band who have been firm favourites of ours. I gave them their very first gig, they asked Kate to manage them, they came on both our radio shows, and they were brilliant supporting Frank Sidebottom the week before they left. It's a really great album and we suggest you get it.

(Rose Kemp also gave us a copy of her brand new album, straight from the studio, which we managed to feed into the Mac before we left. It too is excellent and we suggest you get it when it comes out on One Little Indian Records later this year.)

Crippled Black Phoenix/On the Road

Last Night we went to see Crippled Black Phoenix at Pole Etudiant in Nantes - they were great and it was lovely to see Joe; Chipper, Matt et al. I reviewed it for The Fly:

"With eight people on stage there's a huge capacity for chaos, but instead this strange brew of old rock hands, Bristol noiseniks and a teenage drummer called Crippled Black Phoenix are carefully controlled. Justin Greaves' grand compositions weave their way around Joe Volk's pastoral lyricism, cutting from choral interludes to majestic, textured riffs to great washes of feedback with sympathetic ease. If The Fly was Art Monthly we'd make some apt comparisons to renowned painters of somber and portentous landscapes, but we're a music mag and know shit about art. We know what we like however. We like this."

It's a strange sensation being on the road. I figured originally it would be a little like being on tour and in some ways it is of course, but there are some rather crucial differences. For instance, you don't know where exactly you are going, what your itinerary is, or what you are going to do once you get there.

For a former tour manager, always used to setting out on the road with a firm route, timetable and ultimate aim in mind, this has been quite an adjustment to make and I don't feel I have yet made it. For instance, despite the fact I'm driving a mobile home that we can sleep in at the drop of a hat (or, rather, shift of some cushions) the idea of not knowing where we are going to stay goes against all my instincts and makes me quite edgy. When I was inter-railing around Europe aged 18 accommodation was always the first thing I sorted out upon arriving somewhere new; on this trip, partly because we've got our own bedroom on wheels, but also I suspect because we rarely seem to hit the road before 12, we've often been turning up to places without the first idea about where to stay/park. We're currently in a Cafe in La Rochelle, a very pretty old town that seems to have been Broadmeaded rather comprehensively, with a vague idea that we will find a campsite on Ile de Re but the lack of exactness in our plans is making me slightly tense. The fault here is entirely my own - my control-freakery refusing to be jettisoned along with the other remnants of the rat-race the we left behind when we quit our jobs. Hopefully it'll fade in time.

On the plus side, being away from everything that we know has made things more interesting for Kate and I; we are rediscovering each other again. When we were living in our cute little flat in Bristol, our understanding of each other was defined in part by our relationship to each other but also by what we did and who we were. Kate is no longer "Kate who reads the news" and "Kate who does Fine Tuned" or "Kate who sings in Hot Flush" or even "Kate who meets friends for lunch" or "Kate who makes my lunch for work" - Kate is now "Kate who is my wife and co-traveller". It's a whole new Kate who only I know and that makes me feel very special indeed.

THE WEDDING DAY

I guess everyone thinks their wedding is extraordinary, but ours really was. Mainly because it involved so many people's time, energy and talents and it was all done with such unstinting goodwill.

Theo had hired one of his young singer-songwriter proteges, Harry Penny to help with the get-in at Manor Hall on Friday. Liz and Al came over with enough fairy lights to rival the Blackpool illuminations and stayed to give us a hand. Later my mum, my godmother Tish, Theo's parents and sister and Poppy, Theo's best man all turned up to help and apart from a few last minute whoopsies, it all went reasonably smoothly. (The linen tablecloths we thought we'd organised didn't materialise, but the students let us use their rolls of paper table cloths, gawbless'em. Never again will I whinge about the lack of parking in Clifton during term-time. Also, the order of service wasn't printed because the print shop had closed for the Easter holidays, but the one round the corner did the whole run as a last minute emergency before they closed for the weekend at a cost of less than 20 quid). Our celebrant, Susan Osman, arrived and we did a run-through, then went home to await the arrival of the hoards.

The eve-of-wedding family warm-up as Pizza Express was lovely, albeit marred for me by the disappearance of my voice. I'd felt the beginnings of a chest infection coming on the night before and by Friday evening it had got a grip of my larynx. Knowing the signs, I realised with a sinking heart I was going to struggle to be heard during my wedding. I spent the dinner talking by text message in a vain effort to preserve what was left of my voice. I knew it wouldn't work.

Theo spent the night at Poppy and Diccon's flat in deference to tradition, so I woke up alone at five thirty am, mind already getting geared up for the day ahead. I gave up trying to sleep at seven and went for a run the quiet of early morning. I'd hoped it might help unclog my chest, but no. Still, it was a wonderful lift to the spirits to see the Avon Gorge and Clifton Suspension Bridge outlined in the sleepy Spring sunshine. I got back refreshed to eat breakfast with my sister, brother-in-law and four niblings.

The morning was punctuated with people coming and going bearing clothes, shoes, tiara and ironing board; (Liz - she ironed my dress and stole too, bless her); flowers (my Hot Flush co-singer Laura - she and her mum had grown flowers especially for my bouquet and it looked magnificent); more flowers (Tish and Dan dispatched to get tulips for bridesmaids and button-holes); food (for the wedding buffet) and photography (Theo's ex, Jemimah came to take pictures of me getting ready). I did feel a bit like a princess as Tish painted my toenails, people brought me tea and Mum did my hair (it started badly but luckily Jemimah's experience with long hair and her words of advice helped save the day there). I didn't actually feel at all nervous or even excited. I was pre-occupied by the devastation of my vocal chords and really, just wanted to get all the preparation out the way so I could be with Theo again.

A flurry of Salisbury relatives and taxis and we were off to the registry office. My efforts to make a big entrance in all my finery for Theo were slightly dashed by the necessity of filling out forms together prior to the ceremony, but I was so pleased to see Theo (who looked utterly gorgeous in his suit) and anyway, I kept on my coat to preserve some semblance of surprise.

The registry office ceremony was short but sweet. It was a busy day for weddings, with two coming out as we went in and two more waiting their turn as we emerged. But the slight conveyor-belt aspect of it all didn't detact from the significance of what was happening for us and as we said the legal vows I could hear sniffing from our assembled families behind us. We were signed and sealed.

Theo and I elected to fill the hour and a half until we had to go to Manor Hall with a sojourn in our hotel room. I will draw a discreet veil over it. Some things should remain personal.

AT MANOR HALL

When we entered the dining room at Manor Hall with our entourage of twelve bridesmaids and pageboys and ring-bearer behind us, that was the moment when emotion almost got the better of me. All these people we knew gathered together for US and the sound of my lovely friend Ali Orbaum applying her incredible voice to our chosen song, Feeling Good accompanied by another friend, Toby Field on the keyboard. It really was beautiful.

The ceremony itself was sublime. Susan excelled herself with her moving choice of words and immaculate delivery. My singing group, Hot Flush gave us rousing renditions of I'm A Believer and I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) and Joe Volk's solo song was just gorgeous. As Poppy and Becky passed us the rings which Theo's sister Hermione had made us as her wedding gift (she'd also dressed the stage and made my engagement ring...I wonder if we'd have actually managed to get married without her...) I thought, this is it..we are joined together forever and felt overwhelmed again.

The food...the incredible food...it really was a sumptuous feast, our guests had excelled themselves with their offerings. Meats, fish and cheeses, pates, quiches, salads, sandwiches...and topped off with the most incredible cake, made by our friend S. It was three wonderfully tilting tiers of chocolate, sponge and ginger respectively, decorated in an array of harlequin colours (including the Bristol Rovers blue and white quartiles, heh!) and topped off with a bright pink feather and crystal arrangement. The whole thing was a gift from Joe and S and Liz and Al. We felt so thoroughly spoiled.

And the wine...! Loads of it, red, white and pink and lots of fizz. Tim, my former stepdad, my dad, my godparents, my friends Jon and Sarah and I suspect various others had all brought bottles and bottles of the stuff. So much, our guests couldn't get through it all, even when we gave a few cartons to our bands for their riders. A veritable cellar's-worth has been laid down for us by Theo's dad and we've taken several bottles of leftover Champagne with us to enjoy on our honeymoon.

The open-mic nature of the speeches lent itself to a slightly unconventional round-up of speakers, all completely different and all highly enjoyable. Poppy as best man took the first turn ("Theo said Kate was way out of his league and when we met her, we realised he was right...")
Theo went next ("I've got this two-word phrase I say when something is so supremely wonderful there are no words left to express it...I use it now as my toast...Kate Salisbury!!")
My Dad ("what a fabulous itinerary for your honeymoon travels and I'm deeply touched and grateful to be going with you...")
Me (I had written a song called Do You Know My Man? to perform...as the voice wasn't up to it, Hot Flush stepped in with their excellent harmonies and I simply played the guitar and mimed...it worked a treat)
Theo's Mum ("with all that intelligence, my brilliant son could be pompous and arrogant...but he chooses to work with underprivileged children with kindness...and as a husband I know he will be as endlessly giving and selfless as his own father..")
My Mum (who quoted us a beautiful French hymn about love)
And - slightly unexpectedly - my Aunty Frances (who got her own back on me by singing the On Top Of Spaghetti version of On Top Of Old Smokey as I had done at her wedding thirty years earlier)
Then a hugely funny and touching video-taped speech sent online from Argentina by Beans, Theo's original best man. The film was edited to perfection and Beans delivered it with aplomb.

In all the rush to get downstairs and start partying, we almost forgot to cut our magnificent cake, but cut it we did and after a brief photo session with Jemimah, we went downstairs and opened proceedings on the dance floor with Feist's My Man, My Moon then left DJ Pete and DJ Tasch to do us proud with non-stop floor-fillers (apart from the reggae numbers...Tasch decided quite quickly to abandon those).

Next door in the band room, SJ Esau's quirky one-man pop machine was fantastic, Angel Tech were extraordinary and Babel just superb. We danced until my feet felt like they were being cut to pieces in their unaccustomed diamante high heels. It was worth it. Miles The Munter DJ'd between bands, James Statick mixed the sound and Tony "The Voice" Hutton stage managed. And despite our efforts to at least cover their expenses, none of the bands would accept a bean. They drank plenty of wine, though and polished of the Weapons Strength ginger beer (our gift from Matt and Sarah...ahem, sorry the barrel went missing...)

By eleven we were exhausted, but the whole thing had been utterly fantastic and everyone entered into the spirit of the occasion and WHAT an occasion. If this is a rather long blog entry, apologies. But it's something we want to have fixed on the page and in our memories for the rest of our lives. Wedding of the century. Admittedly, I may be biased. But we couldn't have done it without so many people getting involved and that fact, plus the momentous and joyous commitment we have made to one another has added up to the most incredible end to one journey and the most gloriously auspicious beginning to another.

play it again Sam...

So, obviously, given the importance of music to both Kate and myself, not least as the catalyst which brought us together in the first place, music is going to play a big part not only in the ceremony (see previous post) but in the celebration of our wedding. (see right - my mother complained that the flyer was "a bit rude")

All three bands have featured on Kate's 'Fine Tuned' slot, while both Angel Tech and SJ Esau have played live sessions on my Word of Mouth show - I would have loved to have had Babel in but sadly the studio just wasn't up to holding a seven piece folk-rock outfit. More's the pity. We're really thrilled to have these three ace bands and three awesome DJs playing at our wedding, many of whom would have been invited as guests anyway, and we're sure it's going to help make the day even more special for us. It's a shame that Bucky and 3Hostwomexicansandatinofspanners couldn't make it, but then we would probably have struggled to fit five bands in!

See you down the front...