|Welcome to the gang. Oops, where's my hat?|
“Du schbuist doch aa Beckn, oda?" – you DO play "Becken", DON'T you?” – says Basti, making quite clear this is not a polite enquiry but a firm command. Basti has been my mentor for the past few weeks while I’ve rehearsed drums with the Jugendkapelle, our local brass band. I was so looking forward to playing drums in public. And now he's relegating me to "Becken".
“Ahhm, jaaah”, I reply hesitantly, not wishing to sound unwilling.
|Proud performers. And don't we look great, dressed up as Mennonites.|
The concert goes quite well, actually. At least I manage not to drop the cymbals. I’m obviously much louder than anyone else in the band, because people are soon starting to clasp hands to their ears and move away from me. Band members and spectators alike.
Go to Daily Telegraph 30.12.14
Looking for the loo, I spot the Hallertau Beer Queen coming towards me. After the long drawn-out official proceedings, the evening is only just starting for 17-year old Anna, who I met recently at the hop-plucking ceremony. She tells me they’re all going to the After-Show at "Almhüttn", an alpine-style log hut behind the big tent. Will she be dancing on the tables too? No, Anna laughs, that’s for the younger ones.
Burgers of the Holledau, you're the greatest – Ihr seid die Besten!