Something old, something new, something borrowed and something French.
What a lovely way to pass a warm English summer's evening, with Pat stashed away in a corner of one of the smaller pubs in NN1, with scary locals (of which, I am one), staring in through the windows to see who was singing in the cloisters.
An evening perfectly punctuated at it's midpoint, to take in the Northampton air, and for the acoustic guitar to be replaced by it's electric brother and a laptop and a rockier set-list.
I am pretty sure everyone had a sweatily splendid time..... everyone except for Landon Donovan, that is. Oh well.