Tears of laughter are not unusual at the Mill at Sonning, where well-chosen rib-ticklers (and the occasional thriller) are impeccably acted for audiences whose eagerness to enjoy themselves has already been bolstered by good food and wine served at the pre-performance dinner, writes Chris Gray.

Rarely have I seen the Mill's patrons moved to tears of sadness, as they are during the current production of Jimmie Chinn's slice-of-life comedy Sylvia's Wedding. The level of lachrymosity is raised, in part, by the accidental slaughter of a much-loved family pet Hoppy, the one-legged budgie who had trilled away so merrily during Act 1 from his cage in the oh-so-fussy sitting room of his owners' end-of-terrace home (good work from designer Katy Tuxford). Thank goodness for the reassuring programme note: "No budgies have been harmed during the course of this play." (Phew!). But the main cause of the sadness is another poor bird who looks as if she might be trapped in a life of tedium in this doily- bedecked Manchester property, which belongs to dozing, henpecked postman Vic Lomax (John Junkin) and his telly-obsessed missus (Patricia Kane) who makes no distinction between soapy fiction and grisly reality in her love affair with easeful death.

She is their 31-year-old adopted daughter, the 'Sylvia' of the title, an affectionate roly-poly gas cooker saleswoman, beautifully portrayed by Joanna Brookes. After more than eight years of engagement, she seems finally ready for a flight to matrimonial freedom. Her bone-headed fianc Gordon a moron, like the one in the song has at last proposed, over portions of cod and curry sauce in the local chippy.

But will she take wing? Not if Gordon's snooty parents played by Nicholas Smith and Isobel Black have anything to do with it. The golf-playing, Bentley-driving, deck-chair-manufacturing Stanley and the mutton-dressed-as-lamb Myrtle are far too grand to countenance a link with such a down-market family. But mummy's boy though he may be, the taciturn Gordon (Matthew Scarlett) begins to show rather more mettle, as a result of encouragement from the bottle and from Sylvia's sexy best friend Yvonne (Julie Driscoll). This buxom lass is invariably referred to by all as "Eve-on", a nice touch of accuracy from director Sally Hughes, which reminded me why the 'Yvonne' knock-knock joke only works Oop North.

With such experienced performers as those mentioned above, it need hardly be said that the standard of acting is high, and laughs plentiful.

Just one puzzle. The Lomaxes' money, or rather lack of it, looms large in the plot. But from what we learn of Sylvia's limited social life with Gordon a once-a-week trip to the cinema, a once-a-month dance it seems clear she must be positively rolling in it. Unless she works at the gas board for nothing . . .