The year was just approaching the point of the autumn equinox when the days and nights are of equal length. Although it was considerably cooler, there was still just enough warmth in the sun to make something which might pass for an Indian summer. Well, it was a good enough excuse to hold an outdoor party anyway. Besides it was Mike's birthday and being a hippie, open air 'happenings' were still cool even in 1983. The matter of a location was sorted. All summer his friend Ant had been camped up on some land in his brand new tipi. The place where he had set up camp was just inside a small copse about a mile from the nearest road. The spot was known by the local heads as 'The Embassy'. A group of them had decided to stay up there one night a few years back, light a campfire and drop some acid. One particularly drug-addled individual muttered something about the 'members of the dismembered embers' as he stared into the glowing remains of the fire. Sometime later, his words got contorted into the name 'The Embassy' which became part of local lore - a place forever associated with that initial psychedelic gathering...

'Hash cakes, hash cakes...we have tasty hash cakes for sale', Pete the local dealer announced over the microphone. By now the 'Party in the Woods' was well underway. The Band That Never Was raced through an energetic set akin to a punk-fuelled Crazy Horse: Tim and Danny's rhythm section pumping along as George strained to be heard through a cheap and nasty 40 watt PA. Meanwhile, Mike's psychedelic blues riffs echoed out all around the wood. The band had set up stage in a small dell. The stage comprised of wooden pallets and a canopy made from a lorry tarpaulin to keep off the dew. A petrol generator roared nearby providing power for the amps and coloured lights which were strung along the front of the stage. A few paces to the left stood Ant's tipi with woodsmoke issuing from the top: there was certainly a lot of smoking going on inside. A motley collection of stoned hippies, self-conscious teenagers and a few speed freaks were gathered together in a wood miles from anywhere. People in various states of consciousness leapt around or crashed through the undergrowth. Some sat comatose by the fire too wrecked to speak. Others giggled together in huddles under the influence of cheap plonk or cider. It was party time and the idea was to get as out of it as possible. Not that this was difficult considering the array of recreational substances on offer. Meanwhile The Band That Never Was played on...