Clare Teal: Food for thought as Germany offers a feast of fare

From Wiesbaden, we were driven 327km to Jena by a 12-year-old at what felt like 327 miles per hour. Thankfully, Grant shouted, "Can you slow down, please" in a manly and commanding manner as Mud and I were in a catatonic state of fear.

Now that the wheels were touching the tarmac, we settled in for the long drive ahead, playing many rounds of "what does this German word mean in English" using my trusty phrasebook. Zwiebelsuppe (onion soup) still makes me laugh.

In a desperate attempt to avoid McDon't-eat-that-stuff (staple diet of Grant Windsor) we lunched at a German supermarket; splendid fun – sandwich heaven.

I could never ever live in Germany – I would eat till I exploded.

We arrived at a very nice hotel in Jena. Just time to dump our stuff before heading to the soundcheck. The venue was the remaining part of a demolished theatre in that just the stage and dressing rooms were intact.

Another great festival – seven weeks of music, dance, theatre and comedy with acts from all over the world for a ticket price that everyone could afford.

Grandparents, mums and dads and loads of kids.

"Who likes jazz?" I shouted from the stage – two or three hands go up in the air.

"Who liked that last song?" A dangerous but important question to ask, but, thankfully, a sea of hands, along with a big whoop.

We were on the same bill as a Canadian boogie woogie trio led by Michael Kaeshammer (yes, really). Curiously, wherever we went an awful lot of people thought our drummer, Benny, was Mr Kaeshammer.

Enjoyed our pre-concert three-course dinner but on being shown to the dressing room we were greeted with another mammoth table-sagging buffet, cheeses, meats, fruits and more bread.