At 7.30 one unusually warm evening in October, I had dressed carefully for the night ahead. I sat in my old battered Vauxhall Astra, breathing in the asphyxiating aroma of diesel, awaiting my friends so we could be on our way. My outfit consisted of a stark white shirt and bottle green shorts, held together by luggage straps in the shape of 'H' across my chest; the traditional shape of Austrian trouser braces. I also wore a felt green hat, with flattened sides and a sprig of Edelweiss protruding less than gracefully from the front. I had managed to make this average goat herder costume, much to the delight of my friends.

They had arrived as a set of Alps and a Maria Bride, and with the car full of weird and wonderfully constructed costumes, we made our way to the Sound of Music Extravaganza! Pulling up in front of the building, we looked like a bunch of sad 'anoraks'. We were, fortunately, very quickly surrounded by far more serious contenders, and I'm sure we fit in just nicely.

The Civic Hall was buzzing inside with excited adults who had thrown themselves wholeheartedly into transformations of every kind of Maria or her props. This was helped along by the well stocked bar, purpose built to encourage people to drop their guard and actively indulge in embarrassing behaviour. This practice was already in progress!

A nun was causing a stir in the middle of the bar area. She (although I couldn't be certain) wore a tightly fitting habit with a cut away rear which revealed a 'G' string, hugging a very snug pair of cheeks for free viewing - with her mahogany locks and lean figure, she was obviously the star of the night. The many nuns who paled in comparison, and the daring German soldier who imitated posture as well as costume, were lapping up every bit of attention this angelic temptress was drawing.

My group moved in for the pending hangover juice and joined in for some press photography. We were accompanied by two stout middle-aged ladies dressed in brown paper, a younger version of my goat herder and a hillock, who would also have been the Alps, but for the absence of her partners in crime. The daring nun joined us, much to my bemusement as I was still trying to figure out male or female, and the closeness revealed her hands, always a giveaway! What a delightfully bubbly individual she appeared, and perfect for the occasion.

It was perhaps the thought of the impending singing that had prompted the desperate need to lubricate everyone's throats; whatever the reason, the result was an unequivocal success. The laughter had gotten louder and the singing had begun before our entrance to the theatre. Quite good renditions of 'I am sixteen going on seventeen' rung out around the room. and from what I could see, such blatant lies. I started to suspect that these people must return year after year and practice like hell in the meantime.

A clanging bell rang out, signalling the time for us to move into the theatre to take our seats. A non-harmonious cheer went up, and slow movement towards the entrance. The faint monotones in the distance were beginning to steadily increase to a full-blown boom. Alongside the chatter and laughter surrounding me and the raucous uproar from my unstable friends, the sounds were incredulous and I knew I had a viable excuse for my impending hangover the next morning. The curtains were opening for the start of the show, yet the show's success cannot be revealed, for it would be a selfish act to deny anyone the wonder of what goes on.