Thursday, May 9 - Nottingham, England
| In
Search of the Lost Reviews:
It’s been a month since we arrived home from England (after several days of running amuck in Cornwall), and I’m still not recovered from The Moody Blues, clotted cream and train stations without lifts. (The week in Ireland didn’t help.) SueC has asked me several times “when” I’m planning to finish the UK reviews. I have slyly put her off, but she finally played her trump card: that she’s received numerous inquiries from my “fans”. Yep, that worked. I’ve looked over my notes and can only say that there must have been a few instances where I misplaced my light up pen (a gift from a sophisticated literary type) and those notes are illegible. On occasion, they’re strange. For instance, the word “goat”. Now, why would I use the word goat in a review? It doesn’t make sense! And no, the word OLD was nowhere to be seen. LOL!!! In some cases, I seem to immediately transport to the venue and live the concert again. It’s a lovely feeling, though why Birmingham, I don’t know! Still, for the people who have not been satisfied by Cleveland, here are a few more notes on the UK. It was a shame to leave Scotland, and a crime to leave the Balmoral Hotel and their handsome staff. I remember being in a bit of terror because SueC was “sick”. I don’t remember how/why/in what way she was sick, but I remember that she was. We went by train to Nottingham, and while I was swilling the 40 cups of coffee forced on me by the first class staff, Sue’s little head sank lower and lower until she asked for my jacket (used famously as a blanket or pillow), folded it, laid it on our table, put her head on it and promptly went to sleep. I enjoyed the scenery and spent the trip estimating her weight and how difficult it would be to drag both SueC AND our three pieces of luggage across England. I decided I could do it! (Yes, miss, I’ll have more coffee.) After 40 cups of coffee, a woman can do anything! It was a scare, and brought home to me the wisdom of traveling with a companion. I don’t remember much about Nottingham. I remember wondering where Sherwood Forest was, and if there was a forest, shouldn’t there be some trees? It was not an attractive town. Our hotel must have been really bad, because I’ve blocked that out completely! The Venue: The Royal Concert Hall was a modern building in downtown Nottingham. It had a strange octagonal ceiling. The large stage had the usual fabric backdrop, was about 4 ft high, and I noted that I could see their feet. (lol) The mics were placed five feet back from the edge of the stage, which was wide with curtained wings. 
I sure wish I could remember this venue! My notes say that the ceiling was like a space ship from a B movie. An emergency email to SueC did the trick, though I had to endure some Buckeye sarcasm. Ah yes! Nottingham! SueC reminded me that we stayed at the Hilton, which was quite nice. I love hotels where I can see the venue from the front door (or window, I’m not picky). If I can see it, I can usually walk to it, though bitterly complaining with every step. The venue was quite modern, characterized by lots of glass. Windex was their leading corporate sponsor. Stretching from the bizarre ceiling (Justin must have had a hayday with that one!) were four padded, Thermal-type curtains at least 30 feet long that stretched from the ceiling down against the side walls. The floor or stall arena was large. There were two balconies with wings that curved around to the stage. I thought it was very odd that the floor was plastic, but that seemed to be in keeping with the modern style of the venue. The Fashion Report: RT - Black on Black GE - Jimi Hendrix shirt, black slacks JH – Waiter’s outfit (OK, I can’t resist: Make mine a stiff one!) JL – New long-slvd white shirt, no pocket, 2 button cuffs (unbuttoned), leathers, boots. This shirt gave the effect of the young English schoolboy, it’s kind of sick, but I like it. : ) The Concert: The concert was sold-out, the usual setlist, including Forever Autumn was performed with an intermission. The concert was uneventful, but I noted that Slide Zone was blessed with “lots of BOOT”. Since TDMH has put his boots in the back of his closet (with the blue suit, no doubt and the RR jabot <snort>), JL gets the attention, and does a great job in SZ of fading back onto his heel in a great boot gesture. I bet he could two-step like a madman! The Long Way Home: We had a very pleasant walk after the concert to our hotel. SueC, now fully recovered, somehow disappeared, and I joined another traveling fan. We decided to walk around a bit, feeling high (on the music) and not being in any hurry to get back to our hotel. We went up the main street and lo and behold! There was a bus pulled to the side and Paul was getting out. Apparently, at least some of the Band felt in the mood for carry out from the local kebob shop. Oh, please forgive me: I mean “take-away”. We had a good laugh and left them to their grease. We noticed a pair of fans on the opposite side of the street, ineffectually hiding behind some very small potted trees. I can only think that big buses scared them! HAHA The four of us met up in the lounge at the Hilton and were amazed at another English peculiarity. Many of the hotels I stayed at shared the same odd bar policy: they will not serve you after 11pm UNLESS you are a hotel guest. I’m not sure I’ve seen that in the states, or I guess I don’t usually GO to other hotels to drink and then return to my hotel. There was a small group of young twenty-somethings DESPERATE for coffee (kids after my own heart) and the wait staff flatly refused to serve them. One of their group tried to CHECK IN to the hotel and was willing to pay for a room in order to get his coffee “fix”. One wonders if there is a 12-step program for coffee addicts. The front desk clerk did not see the humor in this, btw. The redheaded angel among us ordered them their little caffeine fixes, for which they were TRULY grateful. I went to bed hoping that God would see that little gesture of kindness and keep it in mind. The scare of Sue’s brief illness was nothing, I repeat NOTHING compared to the other terror of Nottingham.  We
turned our backs on the trusted English railway system and innocently signed
our own execution warrants: we picked up a CAR.
It’s true that God protects drunks and small children, and we must have appeared to him to be drunk, small children. That is the only way I can explain us making it through that week alive. We had made plans with another pair of traveling fans of similar low-key, but gracious personalities. One had declared over the phone back in the States that she had driven in the UK before. I had a car, and it seemed a great way to combine economy, fellowship and safety. MaggieMay |
Sheffield