We started at 7 pm on Friday. That's me, Octavia and Big Stu heading round the M's25 & 4 to Riff's near Swindon. For once the traffic was terrific and we wandered into the bar a mere 80 minutes later to be greeted by the sight of Johns Mitchell and Jowitt slouched at a table along with Kalle Warner, obviously enjoying themselves pre-gig tucking into bowls of chilli and cheesy nacho's. Well except for The Boy Mitchell who was eating a cheese salad on doctors orders. Paul Wrightson was slouched at another table entertaining the rest of the Germans with dambuster stories whilst über fans Breakfast Steve and Julie watched on in horror.. All too soon it was my round of drinks and at that point, like a bad penny, Nick Barratt saunters in, like the last shepherd who's lost his flock, if you know what I mean. And i know that you do! And so did Mick Pointer with a hearty "Oi O'Mara why haven't you printed that story about x who ditched y a few weeks ago who is now getting knobbed by h" obviously names have been obscured. This all meant a bigger round but I slipped a mickey into Pointers drink to keep him quiet. Imagine my horror to see Birdman Barratt knocking it back later!

While this was going on, the support band were on. They were noisy and their fans had typically weird metal beards. Some people said they were good. The band, not the silly beards. When they got off we made our way into the main part of the bar, where I bumped, quite literally into Sal, or Sal :-) as the front of her t-shirt proudly proclaimed. We chatted for a while while the band set themselves up on stage . Obviously I'm not expected to remember all of their set. But I know for sure that they kicked off with an energetic rendition of Obsession. As usual Wrightson did an excellent job of this though I had assumed Mitchell would be doing this. The rest of the set followed smoothly, with Mitchell and Wrightson swapping the mic at the appropriate times, like the US 4x400 team at the Commonwealth Games. Though chubbier. And whiter.

Highlight of the set for me was Mitchell reading his words from an autocue, all the tracks from the album Mirror, new song Disturbed, and the covers such as the Operation:Mindcrime stuff, RPWL's Sugar For The Ape and set closer Perfect Strangers. So pretty much all of it then.

Apres gig we ligged it in the bar with prog stars, well I won't name them as Peter Gabriel once told of not to name drop. Then at 1am it was time to take the high road home.

I awoke on Saturday morning refreshed and full of the joys of prog. Friday night had been a good night but it was also now just a memory. Could Saturday night match that?

But I'm leaping ahead of myself like a schizophrenic frog.

Lunchtime was the most important time of the day as that's when I had to steer the prog mobile in the direction of Luton Airport to pick up the beautiful Dutchess of Prog, Nanda. I whisked her away from the airport drudgery and showed her the sights of Hemel Hempstead. 3 minutes later we turned up at Silhobbit Towers to find a bra dangling out of my kitchen window in a mock Italian greeting. Better than a horses head anyway. And less likely to upset the neighbours.

After a quick and civilised cup of tea the four of us piled into the motor and headed towards sunny Rotherham. After a totally uneventful drive I amazingly stopped outside our favourite Bed'n'Breakfast establishment without getting lost once! I stepped out the car like a peacock on heat only to discover that I'd left my overnight bag at home. Well they say that pride comes before a fall and I fell in a big way. I felt a proper plonker, but even that couldn't lift my mood. And it wasn't helped by getting lost on the way to Wath and having to ask a girl for directions. An Italian one at that!

So we got there having missed crazy Dutch guys Kramer and 75% of Blind Ego's shortened set. We did bump into prog tarts Jo and Marie but just as quickly lost them when they saw John Jowitt heading into the toilets. You can read there review here. Still it was the mighty Pallas we had come to see so I took my rightful place down the front next to French loonie Vinnie de Loux and his lackey Frankie de la Tour. The big Scots guys, and Wee Alan Reed, took to the stage and proceeded to belt out such classics as Hide And Seek and Ghostdancers before Alan launched into a take of how he'd first seen the band in some salubrious and smoky Aberdeen dive back when they had a nutter who kept getting on stage with them. Enter former nutter Euen Lowson who leaped onto the stage while Alan buggered off for a bevvie. Or two.

Meanwhile the Pallas lads and their original singer ran through a rampant Sentinel causing many in the crowd to weep. With joy. I even say one old progger feint on his way to the bar. It was home to see this played as it should be, and it was the first time I'd seen Euan with the boys. The 40 minutes or whatever of The Sentinel flew by, like a flying balloon ship or maybe quicker, the it was Alan's turn back at the front again for a set closing and rabble pouring Arrive Alive. And then, like a virgins first night, it was all over far too soon. We didn't want to leave, so we didn't and hung around like people who use too many poor metaphors in a post office queue.

A few of our party were drunk, one of us couldn't even find his mouth with a slice of pizza which had magically appeared. The Dutchess did get the Blind Ego lads to promise to play RPWL's Roses the following night, even though it seemed like she wouldn't be there. Eventually the locals had to lock up and in home so we said our goodbyes and headed back to the hotel.

However we hadn't got far before we had the crazy Dutch guys from Kramer on the blower. For some reason they had been checked into their hotel but hadn't been given the keys. Coming from somewhere normal they assumed that there would be someone on reception all night. Wrong. By the time we got there they had managed to get into the hotel and were busy phoning anyone they could think of who could help . Unfortunately they could only get hold of of. The CRS people I knew had their phones off even though we'd only left them 20 minutes ago. After an hour of trying various things, most of them illegal, and some less than half hearted offers of a floor to kip on, they decided to make use of the breakfast room.

Eventually we made it back to our rooms for a wild orgy. Or a cup of tea and some sleep. Believe what you will.

Over breakfast on Sunday we convinced the Dutchess that she should really phone her boss, Arie, and change her flight so she could stay for another day and come along to the Peel gig and see he they kept their Roses promise. And, bless her cotton socks, she did just that. So we stopped in Hemel just long enough to freshen up and grab a tea and a slice of able at the wonderful Sanuks, picking up Gay Gordon on the way before setting off for the picturesque Kingston.

After a lively discussion in the car, centering around the Diana speculations that are sweeping the nation (personally I'm convinced she was abducted by aliens and someone else put in her place, maybe Elvis or Lord Lucan after drastic plastic surgery. But that's years before she died anyway) and the worthlessmess of the entire Royal Family, we found the Peel already thronging with prog kids. Just hanging around outside we bumped into Croydon Mick, Twang, Sam, Ash, Miss P and her two chums, Sat Nav Sal ;-), Polly, Fake Og and Al Reed. There were even people there I didn't know! Just a couple though. As we were hungry we sent a lacky off to get some pizza which we were scoffing outside while the support band were on. After that we slipped in quietly to get some drinks and get set. Which we did. Despite the luminous glasses.

As the band came on there were a kafuffle at the door and the outspoken but lovely Kim Bolton barged her way in, all elbows, tits, hair and attitude. She's already reviewed the gig so I'll just say that it was another great showing from the boys even chucking in RPWL's Roses even though they obviously didn't get much time to practise it. A cute touch was John letting Yogi ring the final verse. The Peel really is a nice and friendly venue, and fast becoming a "must" on the UK Prog scene.

We partied afterwards, then parted and made our way home after a great weekend of prog.