Nous sommes Francais, et nous buvons trop ce soir.

What better way to spend your evening on a beach, with one too many guitars playing away, in the midst of exam time just before summer?

Well, post-Y4J, that's what we did last night. And while I was seeing both this and my pizza from Surfside, which cost me the best part of a tasteless €7.50, as slightly extra at around 11pm, I can now safely look back and say that you should have no regrets about what you do in life. Whether you sing to your heart's content, whether you die swimming with sharks, whether you kill someone in a car accident... ok, yes, maybe you should live to regret the latter. But you get my point, it turned out being one quite enjoyable night by the end of it all.

It's a pity that some people weren't there, as they missed the humorous bit of it all. After the majority left, to the extent that we were a group of around 12 people, we had an adoring audience looking down at us from the Tower Road promenade above. They were French. And while we initially thought that they would just peer and move on, like many other people did, these decided to come down and listen to us play and sing away. And poor Matt just had to get the worst bit of it all, with these three French women all looking on in awe at him. Poor chap, I actually pitied him - if they were somewhat attractive, I don't think I'd be writing in this manner, but calling him one lucky chap instead.

Well, naturally, for them not to be disappointed, and to be at least slightly courteous on our behalf, we tried seeing which songs we could either play or sing along to that they also knew about. In their alcohol-induced state. Obviously, what with the difference in cultures, finding common ground was about as common as finding a pothole in our roads. Two, three, possibly four songs later - we had exhausted our list and them seemingly theirs - we just resorted to playing our own thing, and went to worship songs. And this was after we played Mike's 'wildcard' song, James Blunt's "Beautiful", to them as well. Anyhow, while this makes us people - me excluded - dance sometimes out of the grace of God, this actually started to make some of them dance as if there were dancing to some form of tango. Weird.

The worst bit though was that the more we wanted them to leave - which they finally did, at around 1am - the more they actually stayed on (adoring Matt and staring at the stars in awe)! This, we could see, was interspersed with the occasional cigarette, drink, and piss further down the beach for a couple of this group. How touching. The cherry on the cake is when they finally left though, and they thought that we were performing for them, as they asked poor Mike now (yes, poor Mike) for his mobile number so that they find out when we would next be on the beach. (I'm sorry, I still can't resist the laughs right now!) Yes, of course, any number was taken down out of common courtesy, but I'm 150% sure that we aren't giving these people a call before our next "gig".

The motto of this story? "Nous sommes Francais, et nous buvons trop ce soir."

Au revoir, and God Bless You all!
Matti