Bodies were spread around on benches, upturned crates. Few had proper seating arrangements. The whole scene was a cross between an ad hoc barn dance and 'An Olde English Quaint Tea Shoppe' - with alcohol.

Soon Sarah identified her friend from the previous night. Her leggings and floppy ethnic shirt seemed well in keeping with her friends who seemed mainly clad in clothes made out of bright curtain material.

"Getting on all right today are you m'dear", she said as if they had known each other for years.

"Fine thank you", replied Sarah, politely.

"I see you've found the local high class clothes shop", she said admiring the silky creation Peter had suggested she should wear - (she got the impression he wouldn't have considered any alternatives).

"Come and join the circle. One of you must sing us a song then you are one of us."

"I couldn't do that", blushed Sarah.

"Yes you can", interrupted Peter. He smiled charmingly at Beth. "I heard her often enough singing in the shower - she sounds fine."

"But that's different", complained Sarah, ignoring his embellishment of the truth.

"Go on Sarah - sing!" Peter had decided and when he had made his decision, it was best not to stand in his way. She nearly changed her mind again though when the master of ceremonies announced:

"This is Sarah from London, (which they tell me is up North somewhere) and she is going to sing us a song for their entry ticket into this fine repast we have before us tonight of good Somerset cheese and elder flower wines"

All eyes turned towards her and she instantly froze. Peter nudged her sharply into action. "Come on get on with it", he said, impatiently. Sarah by now was blushing brilliantly.

"I sort of know the words of an old folk drinking song", she announced in a shaky voice. "It was popularised by a couple of singers a few decades ago - although I can't remember their names." She ground to a halt lamely.

"We're into songs of many years ago", pattered the MC". He was a giant bear of a man with thin stringy hair, a bushy beard and a pot belly that was the lingering evidence of a lifelong penchant for real ale.

The stool on which he was seated placed him in a commanding position over the people spread around him. Sarah thought briefly that she had never seen anybody who was more totally at ease with being the centre of attraction.

"Most of our best experiences were many years ago. And often we can't remember our names either, let alone anybody else's", he joked.

There came general laughter from the circle. Clearing her voice and wishing she was many miles away with her husband and family, Sarah haltingly began, making up bits she couldn't quite remember:



There was a ripple of approval from the gathering. It was a song they knew and they were listening attentively. She gulped and continued:

Slowly voice became stronger and clearer. She attached lilt and rhythm to the lines as they hypnotically repeated.