Georgi's Overseas Odessey: On tour with the band... in Devon

I've spent this weekend playing groupie to two of Oxford's most enduring names in Music: the (modestly titled) Legendary Pete Fryer Band and The Mighty Redox, fronted by brothers Pete and Phil Fryer, and Phil's partner Sue.

Twice a year, 'clan Fryer' score themselves a gig on the south coast of England, and take 60 or so of their friends and family along for the weekend to fill up the venue. It's a pretty time-hungry way to gather a crowd, but it guarantees a packed house, and for those of us without wheels, 60 quid for transport and B&B accommodation is a pretty good deal. So I turned out on a grim Saturday morning to board the coach for Devon... and discovered just how interlinked the Oxford music scene can be.

I met Phil and Sue through my pals the Original Guy Pearce and the Fabulous Sal Moore, at their regular Wednesday open mike down the Folly Bridge Inn. But it turns out Phil and Sue are also the parents of a bloke named Sparky (I'm sure that's not what they named him, but no-one calls him anything else!) who runs Sparky's Flying Circus, an open mike night at the Half Moon on Thursdays... so suddenly I discovered I was weekending with a whole lotta old friends, as well as a small number of new ones.

And what a cracking time was had by all. Coach trip down was populated with outbursts of random singing, the video of last summer's trip to the Isle of Wight, random conversations and piss-take music documentaries such as The Rutles. Arrived in Paignton, near Torquay, in Devon, just in time to check into our B&Bs and find a pub that was showing the last two games of the 6 nations. As it happened, the pub we chose was putting on free snacks between matches, and was full of loads of other clan Fryer regulars, all of whom seemed mad keen on buying yours truly a drink. Over the next 4 pints, England salvaged some remnant of dignity by beating Ireland (having lost to Wales and Scotland! hah!) and Wales won the tournament with a clean sweep of everyone and a thorough thumping of dirty France (they may be the prettiest team, but they don't play nice, les bleus!).

There was just enough time to order a quick countery (a bargain at less than 6 quid!) and then head to the gig. I'll let the photos speak for themselves...

Guy Pearce - the original and the best