Steve said it at the show and I shall say it again here: thanks to the folks at the Paramount, thanks Tom (amazing lighting), thanks Phil (perfect sound), and thanks Jacey (great gig... 28 great gigs, actually). And thanks to all the people who came to the Paramount for the tour finale. There were still a few people who came to chat with us at the end of the night who apparently had not seen us before but promised to return; that's always good. But I felt like I recognized almost every face I saw. We finally saw a number of our friends who hadn't been able to get to any of the earlier shows in the tour. And lots who had been to one or more, and Brian and Rosie who get to almost as many of our shows as we do! :)

This was a most satisfactory way to close the tour: the Paramount has a great big stage, excellent lighting and sound, and it is a beautiful, restored, old, music-hall/cinema, soft-seater with a big balcony. We have yet to fill it completely but the crowd had spilled into the upstairs and was having a good time. There was time for full sets as there was no support act. We ran it right out so that after two sets and a couple of encores, we hadn't left anything in the tank... as it should be.

We enjoyed ourselves immensely and when the evening was over we celebrated with a bunch of Indian and pizza take-away from our favourite: Maxi's -- our 'local'. There was a great, big, collective, 'Aaaahhhhhh' at the end of the meal and then we all went and slept the sleep of the ... of the people who have just finished a great tour :) Spent, satisfied, happy and ready to spend the next day relaxing and preparing to go home.

It seems incredible that, as good as each tour has been over the last ten years, each 'next' tour gets even better. Thanks to everyone who makes it happen. More than anyone else this means the denizens of Bedford Manor who allow us to feel so completely at home.

As for all the rest of you UK folks, thanks for having us over to your place; thanks for letting us wander around your homes and concert halls making music and making friends. Next year's tour is well-along and will begin in 52 weeks. Tell your friends. See you then!

And for everyone in Canada and the US, we're coming home.

Paul and Jayne do this sort of community concert series as well as anyone, anywhere. We were cared for superbly, fed and coffeed and tead and biscuited. While all this and set-up and soundcheck were going on, a fellow that we have met at the Chester Festival came in with his ten stone, Holstein-coloured, Newfoundland dog. Turns out I had been speaking with his wife in Chester and had told her about this concert. They were unaware of it although it is right in their neighbourhood. She was coming this night, he was not as he had a gig elsewhere, but he just wanted to stop in and say hi.

Paul and a couple of his guitar-playing pals, and a red-headed little charmer of nine (daughter of one of the guitarists) were the opening act; the guys did a few and then out came the ringer. She did a couple, including a really nice rendition of 'With a Little Help From My Friends'. The capacity crowd loved it. It is standard industry wisdom that you should never follow animals or children on stage but we seem to have lucked out. As charming as Meghan and her boy band were, the crowd did not seem in the least disappointed to see us :) Our sets went really well and, as ever, we saw people that we see several times every tour, others who have seen us a handful of times over the years, folks who saw us in Bromsgrove for the first time last year, and some who were brand new to us this night. The verdict was unanimous: it was a great evening of music and fun followed by more great food. Life is good.

We had been told that our first performance at this festival was to be a completely acoustic, acappella set which was to take place not at the festival site but right in the town at 'the church'. So we arrived in Southwell and went straight to 'the church'. This was not exactly what we'd been expecting. It is a 900-year-old Norman minster and our performance was to be right in the middle of the nave which is a huge, beautiful-sounding space. Apparently, the church hosts a Friday lunchtime short concert each week so this time they dedicated it to performers who were doing the festival. Great idea. We sang Secord's, Vimy, Hard Work and For the Day. Wow! It sounded amazing and was very well received.

When we got done with this lunchtime set, we headed out to the festival site and got maps and directions to our accommodations which were, to say the least, fabulous. The house we were staying in had been built in the 1730s as a private residence. Later, it was converted to a school, then back to a residence. A bit over ten years ago, the owners began converting it to flats (it's a big place) but they had got part way through the project and run out of money. So the current owners happened to be in just the right place at just the right time, they picked it up and de-converted it from flats. There were four bedrooms and two full baths on the top floor which is where we stayed -- likely servants' quarters at some point, but tricked out five star for us. Unlike some B&B operators, these folks said they were happy for us to have breakfast at 'any time we wanted'; and they meant it!

We had soundcheck about 4:00 and were wonderfully cared for by the backstage volunteers and by the stage crew. We had Phil Vickers with us to do front-of-house so, of course, things sounded great out there. With a quick and early soundcheck out of the way, we were at leisure to eat wood-fire pizzas and freshly made crepes, to drink coffee, to have our necks, backs and feet massaged and to mingle about with the festivees. It was a very relaxing afternoon chatting with old friends and meeting some new ones.

That evening we got to listen to some of the opening acts which included Jez Lowe and the Bad Pennies -- they are terrific. I believe our set started around 10:30; throughout its length, on and off (more 'on') the ridiculously loud thudding of the bass and kick drum bored into our concert marquee from the not-distant-enough ceilidh tent. That distraction was at its worst when we were talking, but we worked through it and were really well received by the 600 or so folks in the capacity crowd. Big thanks to the whole sound crew, particularly Andy who got the stage mix 'just so', and again to Phil who got us all sorts of kudos for the f-o-h sound.

We had some more visiting and snacking time after we finished. The Moor&Coast food tent was dishing out good hamburgers -- a particular joy in late-night England...

File under: different strokes
When we were dressing the aforementioned burgers, we were advised by some bystanders, in no uncertain terms, that fresh tomatoes, relish and mustard were not the sort of condiments that one should put on a hamburger... I am inclined to ask what would be the point of eating a hamburger without at least some of those. Ah, well.

... and then we headed back to the ranch (I use the term advisedly since our home for the night had a junior soccer pitch which only took up about one third of the back garden!) and there had a lovely sleep.

In the morning, at a very civilized hour, we eased out of bed and downstairs to enjoy good coffee and a nice breakfast in an restrained but elegant dining room with a couple of large windows, one of which looks out to a cenotaph and beyond that to a home where Lord Byron had not only lived, but where he had etched his name on a post. Lord Byron!

I once toured the Chateau de Chillon, where I visited the very cell which had imprisoned Francois Bonivard in the 1500s and there saw, similarly scratched in a support beam, the choppy signature of Lord Byron. That night, taking a room at a hotel just down the road in Ouchy, I discovered that I was staying not simply in the same hotel but the very room that had housed Byron after he visited that same chateau; it is said that this was where he began writing the Prisoner of Chillon. This room! I don't know whether what happened to me was the inspiration of the castle or whether Lord Byron left a bit of his spirit behind to encourage those who followed him into the space; perhaps it was simply the awe inspiring view from that hotel toward the mountains across sailboat-studded Lake Geneva, but one way or another, I found myself sketching the view. It was an awful drawing but the urge to create was remarkable.

I saw them - and they were the same, They were not changed like me in frame; I saw their thousand years of snow Oh high - their wide long lake below, And the blue Rhone in fullest flow; I heard the torrents leap and gush O'er channell'd rock and broken bush; I saw the white-wall'd distant town, And whiter sails go skimming down

Breakfast was enjoyable; the company was even better. We hung around for a bit. Robert played some football with the children of the house who, like their parents were both charming and beautiful. I repaired to the library and finished 'The Autobiography of a Liverpool Slummy'; all during my reading of it, I had found myself thanking God that I was born when I was and where I was. Now that I was done, I sat for a bit a just marveled at the fact that Pat O'Mara, a kid who grew up in such unbelievably hideous conditions, came out of it not only in tact but with a powerful urge to read and to write and enough ambition that he authored at least three books about his life.

I found the rogue lens from my reading glasses. Not having had it turn up in Bournemouth, I was convinced that the lens had fallen on the road or somewhere in the venue (where it had been vacuumed up or eaten by snakes or something). In fact, it had fallen in with the CDs and was waiting patiently for me there. That's better.

This is another place where everyone has played -- and still does: Steeleye, Fairport, Tanglefoot :) Our soundchecks have become scarily fast, so when we were done, there was plenty of time for some of us to go for dinner at the White Hart Inn next door to the venue. I didn't go out but, instead tucked into the autobiography of a Liverpool slummy. Wow. Some life in the 20th century.

After everyone returned, we dressed and prepared ourselves though, as time went on, it began to appear that perhaps the support act was not going to show. In the end, our compere sang a couple of songs by way of warm-up and away we went. The stage has a domed roof which can make sound a bit of a challenge but, having learned this from past experience, we were able to eliminate some of the suspect sounds and frequencies and it was actually much easier to hear ourselves this year.

We had a good crowd out including our Aylesbury friends who we probably will not see again until next year. Bye! There was also a fellow sitting in the crowd with a newspaper open all evening. At one point his wife appeared to fall asleep on his shoulder. However, they clapped and cheered enthusiastically, even calling for more at the end of the night. There's naught as queer as folk, eh?

Our hotel reservations in Reading had magically, partially vanished when we arrived. Fortunately, there was a lovely woman -- another guest in the hotel -- who needed only one room for herself although the hotel had booked her (and charged her for) two. Timing is everything! We were all there at the same time and she said that, since they were insistent on charging her for an empty room, that we couldhave that room. What good karma. I hope something really nice happens to her!

In the morning, after a dandy lie-in, we headed home stopping for breakfast at a place that had some mysterious food items: cheese omelette with no cheese taste, caffe latte with no coffee taste... Ah, well. We got home and ordered in some really good Indian food which sort of
balances out the day.

We have played in Bournemouth twice before but it was a long time ago. This venue is very nice: drive right up to the door and load right in beside the stage. There is a high ceiling above the stage but the audience is under a lower ceiling. It makes for a very 'open' feel to the room but without the troublesome, natural reverb that sometimes comes from a room with high ceilings throughout. We set up and had a very brief yet effective soundcheck while the chef prepared a Sunday roast dinner. Mmmm. Dinner was great. After we had finished eating, Steve soundchecked the openers, a mostly acapella duo called Brucha (sp?) who did some really strong, very English-sounding two-handers, as well as a native North American piece with hand percussion. All in all, quite nice.

A few minutes later, we launched into our set and immediately, I did something that I have never done before: I broke a bass string! It was interesting playing the first three songs without a low E. So much of playing is habitual behaviour and it is odd to play most notes the same way but a few notes differently. But we did it and then, I did something that I had also never done before: I changed a string on stage. That is not difficult but it is time consuming. Still, by the time Steve had introduced the fourth song, I had finished... whew! From there on things went hitchlessly and we had a great night of playing after which we chatted with friends who had been at the Chippenham Festival, some guys who had driven down from Birmingham after seeing us at The Red Lion the night before, as well as some relatives of Joe Grant's who live in Bournemouth and had come out with a bunch of friends.

Our hotel was about a hundred metres away so we were able to get to bed quickly after the show. In the process, I popped a lens out of my reading glasses. I didn't realise it until we were in the hotel. In the morning we went back to the venue and looked, in vain it seemed for the errant lens. So we went to the chemist and I got some cheap reading glasses (not my prescription, but they'll do until I get home) and off we went to Nettlebed.

Everyone (including Robert Plant) has played here over the years which is part of what gives the place its charm. The stage is very small, perhaps suited for a trio, at most. There is a green room which is actually a bit too small to accommodate the size of act that that stage could reasonably hold. It is, therefore, an evening replete with tightness. They say the room can hold 180 people but I would imagine that this would require two things: first, that everyone must stand and, second, that they all must want to get to know each other on a level of intimacy which rarely comes before a minimum of a dinner out with a couple of bottles of wine. We had a good crowd (though it certainly wasn't 180) and the room appeared to be very nearly full. A couple of members of the next generation were right near the front; nice to see both Kayleigh and Alice!

We found a way to squeeze ourselves onto the stage which, unfortunately, had been deluged in a rain storm a couple of weeks earlier. The result of the damp was like someone's science project. We held our breath and made it through :)

The house we stayed in that night was the same one as a year ago. I don't remember whether I said it then, but this could be the house from 'Tom's Midnight Garden', a family favourite piece of juvenile fiction. The grandfather clock is on the second floor landing rather than the first, but otherwise it is the picture of that house. And the garden, complete with brick wall and green house is just as Tom found it. We had a pleasant overnight and good breakfast and a relaxing morning before we got on
the road to Bournemouth.

We played the Cambridge FC once two or three years ago and it was on the university campus next to the Cambridge University Press building. It was fun to visit a building whose name I had read on the spines of so many books. This year we were at The Golden Hind in the function room on the second floor. Downstairs is a nice restaurant which serves workmanlike food. It is still remarkable to me how pleasant even a plain meal can be now that all indoor air is smoke free.

Robert and Steve and I had a bite and then watched some cricket -- Oz playing West Indies. I claim no expertise but the ins and outs of cricket are not nearly as arcane as I had always thought. Or maybe Robert is just really good at explaining them to a neophyte. This was a test match (the 'real' cricket, according to purists) where they play for five days. They had been going for several hours and the Australian batsmen were at about a century and a half for two when the silly mid-off made a galumfing first slip hornswaggle and completely smalooshed the side. It was six overs with 15 and nine and a half for zilch when suddenly, they stopped for drinkies. I like this game.

In the restaurant, we met some friends from Bedford and Hitchin and some others who have seen us many times in Boston. They came down here since we aren't in Boston on this tour. Tonight's was definitely a 'listening' audience -- not that other audiences don't listen, but in many places there is a good deal of clapping, hooting and hollering. Here there was a lot of intense listening. In the front row to stage right, was a couple of young girls, one of whom has been learning to play the cello. We heard later that they took some inspiration from our performance and from meeting us; who knows what may have inspired Jacqueline Dupre to upend that viola when she was young, eh?

Our opener was a GwG named Jade Rhiannon. She had a back-up vocalist and a guitar/violinist along and the three of them made a lovely sound -- they were also just dead charming off stage. I expect we'll hear more from them in the future.

Once again we noticed the relative incompatibility of B&Bs with the lifestyle of musicians. Like most people, we don't usually want breakfast eight hours after we arrive home from our work day, but that is when it was available. And check-out was an hour later. This made for an early-to-rise morning which is unlikely to make us healthy, wealthy or wise since we didn't get the early-to-bed which is the requisite precursor. However, it did give us a golden opportunity to walk around Cambridge.

We parked where we have before and headed for the gate to the path that leads though King's and into town. "None may pass!" thundered the black knight. Okay, so he was a little bespectacled gate warden in a sweater vest. And he actually said, "I'm afraid you'll have to go around", but what kind of a story does that make? A lot of the college grounds were closed on account of exams being in progress. I guess the delicate flower of English youth who study at Cambridge might collapse like a toffee souffl

The Parkgate Boathouse used to be on the water. You can still look across the magnificent estuary to Wales but it is mostly grassland with oxbow streams running through it nowadays. This is the fifth or sixth time we have played for these folks and it has always been great fun.

We drove up from Derby and arrived in loads of time in the afternoon. We loaded in (second floor -- no lift) and decided to dispense with the portable stage that they sometimes use. It doesn't add a lot of height but it does limit the floor space we can use. Set-up and soundcheck were uneventful and smooth which gave us some time to kick back and sample The Boathouse's cuisine. Actually, Steve ate first and the reviews were so good that more orders went in. Around the time the second set of meals arrived, so did Eddie and Mike (organisers and resident musicians at the Parkgate). Steve got them set up for their opening spot. And pretty soon the audience began to arrive.

There were many familiar faces including Parkgate's resident photographer who brought us a shot he had taken of us the last time we played there. A couple from over this way, that we see on pretty much every tour, advised us that, if they got up and ran out during the show, it wasn't that they had taken a sudden dislike to what we do, it was just that they were expecting a grandchild at any moment. How exciting! As a consequence of all my prattling about what I'm reading, I received a couple of books which appear to be firsthand accounts of life in hard times in England's northwest. I am looking forward to reading these to see how O'Mara's Liverpool compares with Milton's Hell.

So by about 8:00 the place was full except for three seats down in front. Before we see the audience, especially in familiar locations, we have begun to speculate on who may be in the crowd this night or that. There were some folks from the Chester area that I thought we might see and, sure enough, a bit of the way into the first set, two out of the three arrived and took those seats in the first row. The third, it turns out is under the weather -- feel better soon! There was a group of newbies over to stage left whom (Robert determined) looked like ABBA -- striking, stylish and attractive people. They were clearly having a good time throughout the evening and made a point of hanging in after the show to give the concert quite an animated review. We seem to have some new Footheads.

Our sets went very well with smiles, laughter and tears, clapping, stomping, shrieking, beaucoup de singing along... and that was just the band :) We had a great time, finishing the night with a couple of encores, the first of which was Secord's Warning for which we were joined, as we often are in this area, by Dave Jones. Then it was off to Chester overnight before heading to Cambridge.

The grandparents-to-be made it through the evening and told us after the show that they were certainly hoping that the baby would have the good manners to arrive before the night of the Penistone show so that they wouldn't have to miss our last performance. Here's wishing that baby an easy entrance, whenever it is!

Prior to going to the Guildhall, we had a radio interview with Alan Clifford of BBC, Nottingham. This we did in the BBC, Derby studios via telephone. They got us headphoned up and we clustered around a single mic. To be heard well on-air, the person speaking needed to be directly in front of the mic and within about six inches of it. It is always fun to be interviewed by someone who does it well. As Alan asked questions of each of us, we bobbed in and out to give our answers. Robert bobbed a little slowly, and was robbed of a chance to answer :)

We have played for Mick Peat a number of times before but this is the first time at The Guildhall. It's a bit of a trick to get into: first, there was construction closing the road that we had hoped to use for ingress. Needless to say the Motorway Matron (GPS/SatNav/Trip Bitch) wasn't aware of the road closure so she led us right into it. We found our way out and to the closest available street. Then, as the theatre is on a pedestrian mall which, on this day, had a bunch of carnival rides set up on it, access was somewhat limited. We found our way by. As well, there is restoration work being done on the facade of the building so there were work vehicles, structures of scaffolding and great waving sheets of tarpaulin to avoid. But we got in and it was well worth the effort.

What an excellent theatre! A 250-seater with balcony, big stage, lights and amenities. Load-in to the second floor requires a few trips up in a fairly small lift but we got that done and set up for the show. Mick and Celia brought us all sorts of goodies so we ate, drank and were merry in the green room until show time. I put in a little time with Milton -- did I mention that I have 'Paradise Lost' on the go? I am enjoying it; the early descriptions of the legions of bad guys remind me of nothing more than some of the scenes from 'Lord of the Rings'. I am still waiting for the outcasts to see, understand, discuss or explain things in terms of their own paradigm rather than that of their enemy. That's probably a bit post-modernist for something written 400 years ago.

For the evening's performance, the main floor of the theatre was full. Good turnout for a first time show. There were a bunch of familiar faces including a couple that we had seen in Schoharie, NY, a few years ago! There were many more who were new and that is a sure sign of great pre-show promotion and a good omen for the future. We are booked to return next year.