England Tour, April 2007

Wednesday April 11 through Sunday April 15

(Note: Clicking on any image in this travelogue will bring up a full screen version of the image.)

My 3rd performing tour of England was set up for May 13 to 27, 2007. It was arranged by Jacey Bedford Tour Management, as had the previous two. . I had lucked into having Jacey pave the way for me through a fortuitous circumstance. This was to be the last tour in which she would represent me. It was not as full as the previous ones; only 5 gigs, as opposed to the 8 or 9 in the previous two. I resolved to use my free time primarily in two ways: Firstly, to troll the areas for other clubs to visit for "singers' nights" (For my fellow Americans, a word of explanation about the English folk scene might be in order. For my British friends, you might read that to infer how the American scene differs from yours.) And secondly, to engage in some tech-tourism. As you may know, my other profession is that of a mechanical engineer, designing machinery. England is the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution, and there is all sorts of old technology scattered about the country, preserved for posterity. That kind of stuff really interests me.

Wednesday, April 11

Even though my first gig was on Friday, I chose to leave Wednesday to give me some time to adjust to the time change and to take advantage of a cheaper flight available then. Up at 5:30, drove to the house of my friend Bill Henderson who took me to the airport. (Thanks, Bill!). And whom should I meet in the waiting lounge of Virgin Atlantic's departure gate, but fellow folkie and Folk Project member, Carla Ulbrich off on a performing tour of England. Small world. We arranged to swap seats with fellow passengers, and I had a traveling companion for the flight out. Landed in Heathrow, said good-bye to Carla, and picked up a car at Hertz. Off to Reading some 20 miles away to the home of Steve and Ann Bingham, where I was to spend the next couple of days.

Steve and Anne used to book Readifolk, where I had performed in my previous two tours. I had contacted them in advance to ask if I could crash with them, and they graciously agreed. The hospitality of the English folk scene is pretty remarkable. In the 16 days I spent in England, I paid for only 2 nights' lodging. The rest were offered by various club organizers, friends, and people I just happened to meet on my travels.

Steve is blind, and one of the most capable men, blind or sighted, I have ever met. Until his recent retirement, he worked for the Government as an advisor on handicapped-accessibility standards. He is a computer wiz, using computer speech translations and other gimmicks to make the cyber world accessible to him. Steve showed me around the town of Reading on my last stay with them. Steve and Anne live with Steve's guide dog Warner and his retired guide dog Roma. It was a real treat to be with the dogs at home. Guide dogs are always so attractive to me because of their obvious intelligence and devotion to humans. But I never get to socialize with them because they're always on duty in situations where I encounter them, and you're not supposed to pet them or distract them when they're on duty. So I got to do dog stuff with them at home, which was a great treat.

Thursday, April 12

So I thought I'd go sightseeing around the town of Reading for the day. Walked downtown and poked my nose around the town center.

Reading Church with Motor Scooters

Was gawking at the church in the picture above (click on the picture to see some of the detail of the stonework) and not looking where I was going. I caught my foot on a tree root and started to fall. I put my hands out to catch myself, and suddenly flashed on the thought, "NO! I have to play guitar!" I pulled my hands back and landed heavily on my chest and ribs on a low stone wall. I really had the wind knocked out of me, and was seeing stars as I lay there unmoving. People came over and asked if I was OK, and I replied that I didn't know. After a minute or two, I was able to roll over and get unsteadily to my feet. My ribs were sore, and I knew they would hurt more later. At first I thought to continue my sightseeing, but then thought the better of it, and headed back to the Binghams.

As it turns out, I probably cracked a rib. It was pretty painful for the next week or so, and it hurt to cough or take deep breaths or lift things with my left arm. I still feel remnants of the injury as I write this today, over a month later. It definitely affected my singing. (But my guitar playing was fine. Ya makes yer choices, and ya lives with da consequences.) I did not seek any medical help. I knew that even if my rib was broken, all they would have done was to tell me to take painkillers and be careful. Which I did anyway.

That evening the Binghams took me to the Maidenhead Folk Club to see Bryony, a female vocal trio that had reformed after disbanding many years ago. They were quite good. I did a floor spot, and did well despite my injury. I was offered a second spot in the second half of the evening. I dropped off a promo pack with the organizers. I later got word that the organizer had listened to my CD twice and was impressed. Maybe next time over...?

Friday, April 13

I took my leave of the Binghams and set off on a long, mostly pleasant drive on the 2-lanes to Burntwood. I recognized some of the route I had traveled to Oxford in reverse last time over. As I approached the Birmingham area, I was again reminded how much I hate English roads. I don't mind driving on the left. I don't mind the ubiquitous roundabouts. What bothers me most is the minimal real-estate that is available to the driver. Lanes are narrow. There are no shoulders. Parking spaces are smaller and less room is available in all circumstances to maneuver. I am always afeared for my fenders and side view mirrors and feel continuously claustrophobic. Another thing that drives me batty is the signage. You'll come to an intersection or a roundabout, and you encounter signs that tell you this exit for the A36 to Warminster and that exit for the A36 to Bath. But no clue as to which one is northbound and which is southbound. So if you are headed to Southampton, and don't know the local geography, you have no idea which way to go. And of course there is no place where you can pull over and look at a map. Probably 300 of the 1500 miles I drove in my trip were spent retracing my route after I had taken wrong turns. Grrr!

My ribs were hurting worse now. I was headed for my first gig of the tour, the Chase Folk Club. The gig had good potential. It was a big room and, unlike most of the clubs in England, sported a sound system. That was liable to be useful to me, considering my inability to breathe deeply or sing with any power without pain. The club did not, unfortunately live up to its potential. Attendance was sparse, and in that big room, the population density was very low. It's harder to generate excitement when the listeners are not near each other to reflect their reactions off each other. It was like throwing styrofoam peanuts. You take a big windup and throw with all all your might, and the thing travels 4 feet and then floats to the ground. The club put me up overnight in a little B&B across the street from the venue.

Saturday, April 14

I stopped off at the local library in Burntwood to check my e-mail. Got a message from the Binghams that I had left my leather hat at their place. I asked them to mail it on ahead of me to the organizers of a gig later on in the week. It later turned out that I then left my PDA at the library where I had taken it out to look up the Binghams' e-mail. I wound up leaving bits and pieces of my possessions behind me like bread crumbs the whole trip.

I headed south again on the relatively short trip to my next gig at Redditch, made unnecessarily longer by taking several wrong turns. Grrr again. Finally got to the home of the organizers, Bryn & Jonathan Colvin, and their precocious 5-year old, James. The gig was a house concert, a much rarer occurrence in England than here in the US. A small audience, but in the confines of a living room, a much better experience than a similar number of people scattered around a large hall like at Chase. In attendance was Dave James, who books the Alcester Folk Festival, and appeared to be quite taken with my performance. A real possibility for a booking in June next year, which could form the core of an '08 tour.

Sunday, April 15

I spent the morning at Bryn & Jonathan's place being a slug. I was uncomfortable and cranky, so I lay abed and slept real late. Got up around noon-thirty feeling guilty and had lunch in the back yard with 5-year old James. James had a cold. James kept coughing at my sandwich. I wondered about whether I should have done something about that.

Sometime during the day, I realized that I didn't have my PDA. That concerned me. It held a lot of crucial information including phone numbers, my schedule, and all sorts of stuff like that. I ransacked the house and everywhere I had been to no avail.

I decided to make something of the day, and took a drive over to Stratford-On-Avon for the afternoon. Stratford has the reputation for being touristy. That's OK. I was playing tourist.

It was an uncharacteristic 80 degrees this April day in England. I joined a mob of people lazing about a public park on the river taking in the rare tee-shirt & shorts weather. This kind of tourism is much more fun for me with someone else than on my own. I missed having someone to share the experience with. There was an interesting sculpture garden with abstract pieces for each of Shakespeare's plays. There were plaques with quotes from the plays (in the original 17th Century Englifhe) but by this time my parking time and my ribs were fading fast, so I headed back home to the Colvins.

That evening a couple of the Colvins' friends came by and took us all to the Birmingham Traditional Music Club. We blasted through the narrow streets at a pace that made me happy to be sitting in the rear of the car where the front headrest obscured all my forward vision. Another singers' night, and again I made some good impressions. Possible gig for next time. Back home and to bed.