By Rob Andrews BBC News Online

Silly hats are a great leveller. The last night's obligatory headgear bridges the gap between player and punter, aficionado and thrill-seeker.

Cosy, intimate St David's Hall did not disappoint. Days ago, it was mortar boards for graduation ceremonies.

On Saturday, the traditional end-of-proms send-off came a-calling.

Owain Arwel Hughes: Artistic Director

Acclaimed conductor Owain Arwel Hughes was instrumental in instigating the devolved orchestral celebration in 1986.

Sixteen years later, in the fourteenth show of the fortnight, he began by conjuring Malcolm Arnold's crashing, tense Tam O'Shanter from London's Royal Symphony Orchestra.

Close your eyes and it's Star Wars. Open, and - with these hats - it's Zippo's Circus. But the fun had not yet begun.

Penclawdd-born Adiemus composer Karl Jenkins' new work Tangollen, a Welsh homage to the tango complete with castanets, sounded hilarious in these lofty, if relaxed surroundings.

But the calm was restored with a three-pronged showcase from upstanding, outstanding euphonium soloist David Childs.

Arranged by Childs and his father, the Yorkshire-born 21-year-old's sombre displays of John Hummel's Fantasy, percussionist Evelyn Glennie's A Little Prayer and Jean-Baptiste Arban's Theme And Variations sent the audience wild.

So far, so what? There is something profoundly dissatisfying in getting much what you expected.

Pure entertainment

But by the time Hughes and his orchestra returned from the interval, they found their stage - and the entire venue - had been covered in mile-long pieces of string, streamers and bunting.

A giant spider had spun a coloured web to enmesh us all, and every violist found it tricky and hilarious.

This was pure entertainment, as Hughes and the crowd loosened up for the favourites.

Credit Pomp And Circumstance for the first appearance of the flags, smiles and singing. The place was jumpin', jumpin'.

Thank John Quirk's Welsh medley - Blaenwern with a Brazillian beat, Ar Hyd Y Nos, Men Of Harlech - for what became a distinctively domestic occasion.

Traditional hymn-fest

Affable, polite conductor Hughes stopped the crowd's singing several times to call for more noise, like a cross between a Butlins redcoat and a Welsh Methodist preacher.

It had become a hymn-fest in the finest Welsh sense, the packed rafters resembling a match-day Millennium Stadium, in finer tune, as they let out the obligatory national anthem (not the one about the Queen).

Several were out of breath, one or two let out a "yee-hah". This was fun and community and tradition in one place, much unlike the earlier reservation. This was what they came for.

Jingoism reigned supreme but, by jingo, it was good. That the symphony orchestra was apparently note-perfect was lost on all.

This was a game of two halves and the best side won.