To have a van, whether it is your own or hired, is a god-send when you go to a gig.

To have a van with enough space in it for leg room is an added bonus. But when it has enough room to stop your bollocks getting grazed or mangled by simply getting in and out then you are truly blessed. Especially on the longer journeys.

Before we drove up to Durham we watched the news for some info on what the traffic situation would be like. ‘Chaos’ and ‘Gridlock’ were frequent words used by the media. It seemed it was going to take us longer to get there than we thought.

Well, it didn’t. Once more the media, in all their apparent wisdom, blew the whole thing out of proportion. Just like the crisis with E.Currie and her eggs, CJD (human mad cow (just like Ms Currie?)) and SARS. Panic mongering just to fill up the pages of their papers because no-one currently is suffering from a mysterious life threatening epidemic spread by chicken eggs that dress up like crazy cows sneezing everywhere.

You may have noticed that I have sidetracked somewhat from the actual point of today’s diary, but you can’t start a day properly without having a bit of a rant. Getting back to the story so far…

Never was a truer word said, for the boys did their best wedding gig ever this weekend.

In the middle of nowhere, through some quiet sleepy villages, we found the gig. Perfect peace was going to be shattered by the boys from Sussex as they launched into their repertoire of original material and covers.

The marquee we were to set up in was considerably smaller than expected but worked in our favour. It gave a slightly more intimate feel and made the sound easier to work with.

Terry called out at the beginning, "Good evening. Do you want some rock and roll?" The crowd cried, "Yes". From about a mile away across the little valley, someone else shouted "Fuck off, I’m up at four a.m.!"

It was from the second song of the night that the dancing began, and Euphoria held the dancers there until the end.

They were playing nice and tight and seemed thoroughly at ease, but sadly Terry was suffering from a throat infection (we think it was a lodged pube) and couldn’t sing to the best of his ability but he still came out with the goods with Russ, Calvin and Scott to keep people dancing the whole night.

Our drink of choice for the evening was Stella Artois, lovingly called ‘Wife Beater’ by the locals.

"How did you beat your wife, sir?"

"It’s all down to superior foot work, your honour."

"First offender?"

"Yes. First the fender, then the poker, then the shovel."

The boys finished for the night but were being called on to keep playing. It was gone 1 o’clock so it had to finish but the wedding party wanted more. The CD’s started playing and Euphoria took a well earned break. Applause and commendations came from all sides. So did two bottles which I deftly blocked using the skills I mastered at the R.A.W. academy.

Strange as it may seem, when we have had a few drinks and have to load the gear back in the van, it tends to go in easier. We have heard that there is a medical explanation for this, but we still trust to blind luck and our total belief in the healing and psychological powers of beer. There is a force at work there that mankind has no business researching.

Our B&B was a couple of miles down the road, to which we adjourned. Scott trotted down to Karl's house to meet some other guests that were going to have another drink. We decided to get some sleep before breakfast and the drive home. But not before trying to confuse Scott.

We tucked his pillows down his bed and stuck a large teddy bear at the top, tucking it in under the covers.

When he got back to the room we heard him trying his best to figure out what was happening in the pitch darkness. Whispers of "what’s that? Oh no, how did that get there?" and "Ah man, what’s going on?" came from Scott as he negotiated the pillows and hardback books under the quilt. He hadn’t found the teddy bear yet. If you ask him about it he will tell you that he first thought someone was in his bed, but then he removed the bear and lay down.

The truth of the matter is Russell and I were still awake and when Scott got to the top of the bed we heard a soft stroking sound. Then Scott said "you like that, don’t you" just as the slow rhythmic pumpings of a drummer pounded against the little bear. Proppa Bo, I tell thee! Everybody’s happy. Well, not the bear obviously.

Thanks to Pauline and her husband for putting up with us. Thanks to everyone at the wedding. And congratulations again to Rachel & Karl on their wedding day. All the best.

Don’t forget kids, if you are goin’ to tell your friends about Euphoria, don’t say "fuck" or "bugger".

This is Mandy Dingle signing off, and if some one is getting in your face just look at ‘em in the eye and say, "Crrraiiig David".

Bye bye now.

Don’t forget to lock all your doors and windows, and ignore that gentle scratching and whispering at the rear window. It’s probably your imagination. But what if it isn’t? If it isn’t, then it is probably just me. Can I have a cuddle?

p.s. Just in case you are wondering how my hip is after that marvellous piece of footwork from the Silver Sword tour, then I will tell you. The numbness is still there but the pain went about 3 months ago.

That’s rock for ya.