| UK Fall Tour 2004
Nottingham, UK Royal Concert Hall Saturday, Oct 2 On the Road with MaggieMay... Darling Hubby found it terribly difficult to leave the Newcastle hotel bar, his gin and tonic, and the skimpily dressed models cavorting across the bar’s big screen telly. I was floating contentedly in the best Margarita I’d found in the British Isles.  It
would have been nice if a football game had been on instead. It was
odd; DH had never seemed all that interested in fashion before! Snort!
DH finally gave up his babes and agreed to go to bed. I wasn’t sleepy. Free high speed internet was at hand and it would have been criminal not to enjoy it, criminal being the word of choice to describe several UK hotels internet charge. There was quite a list of things to recommend our Newcastle hotel, but my favorite thing (after the FREE yes FREE high speed internet) was the door sign. It succinctly said... LEAVE ME ALONE! Of course, I stole it. Wait! I was in England, therefore I didn’t “steal” it. I nicked it. Many English phrases sound SO much better than their American counterparts, such as: English: Want a topper? Translation: More coffee? English: I’m knackered! Translation: I’m pooped! English: I think I’ll have a little wank. Translation: I think I’ll have the oil changed in the car. The last one might be wrong, I’m not sure. The beds were Extremely Firm (all right – they were hard as rocks) but surprisingly comfortable. We were scheduled to leave around nine, and I was up early and felt great. One of the most entertaining moments of the UK Tour was watching Darling Hubby every morning as he searched for the hair dryer. British bathrooms not only have no hair dryers (almost universally supplied in the USA), far worse, there are no damn wall plugs! Really! They don’t tell Americans this. Most women who travel carry a variety of grooming items that require power – hair dryers, hot curlers, curling irons and so on. They expect, desire and NEED to plug them in, and in The States, one usually does this in the bathroom. First time travelers to England tend to be aware that such appliances will need to be dual voltage or need a transformer, and will require an adapter. They’re 220, we’re 110. You come knowing that. But when you GET here, you search the bathroom for a plug, combing every possible inch fruitlessly. THERE ARE NONE! Oh, there’s an odd plug that says “shaver” on it, but nothing else. I assume it’s a safety thing to keep you from killing yourself by dropping a toaster into your bath ala Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. I will give the English their due: hair dryers are usually supplied in one’s hotel room. But where? They hide them. I don’t use a hair dryer, preferring to gel my unruly silver hair into crunchy submission. There’s nothing that will wake you up quite like walking outside into the brisk autumn air in England with a damp head of hair. It’s exhilarating! Hubby however, feels differently, and is accustomed to blow drying his locks. It became a fond ritual. He would step out of the bathroom after a wonderful shower (those horrible rate limiting shower heads are non-existent in the UK and it’s like standing under Niagra Falls, thank you, thank you!), towel wrapped modestly around his waist and scan the room with an expression of hope on his face. The scowling and profanity soon began as he searched the room, angrily jerking open every drawer until he finally found the hair dryer. It was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and I had to stuff a pillow against my face to stifle the hysterical laughter. It would not have been appreciated. ; ) We trudged reluctantly out, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the reception counter as we left, and met Ian pulling up to the door with the van. More entertainment was in store! One of my biggest personal regrets and one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made in my life was to inform Darling Hubby (then My Adorable Boyfriend – he was later *promoted*) that I was perfectly capable of opening the car door MYSELF. I was quite the young, independent feminist when we met. He embraced feminism and now, despite the fact that I’m old and tired, I’m stuck with it. While he’ll help in a pinch, I’m actually expected to manage my own bags. And I do! The two ladies traveling with us are not married and are free from any such constraints. I leaned against the wall of the hotel and watched the bellman feebly attempt to lift the girls’ bags, wishing that I had brought my pillow, for it was even more amusing than the morning’s naked search for the hair dryer. I have to say the elderly bellman looked quite spent afterward and our driver’s eyes were wide with terror. We traveled across England leaving a trail of hernias in our wake.  Nottingham
was a long haul south from Newcastle. Ian kindly stopped at a travel
plaza so that we could stretch our legs and I bought yet another in a long
line of egg mayo sandwiches. I would have liked to do a little sightseeing,
but sadly, there was no time. I sighed as we passed a sign for Hadrian’s
Wall. The drive was a nice combination of motorway and secondary
scenic roads. Ian had offered to let me sit up front with him and
we munched on his bag of mint toffees in lieu of something we both would
have preferred. It did give you a similar experience to menthol.
The patch of secondary roads was FULL of roundabouts and I nearly caused
an accident on one by commenting, “Wow! You guys have a shitload
of roundabouts”! The van began swerving around and I looked over
at Ian and saw him shaking. I realize now that “shitload” is a term
that’s not commonly used in England, just as the familiar “goober” is not
an endearment often heard in Cornwall. I tried to smooth things over
by repeating my observation in a general way and said in a much more subdued
manner, Um...you guys have a truckload of roundabouts. Ian
glanced over (oh – Ian means “John” in Scotland, I was told) and replied:
“That’s NOT what you said the first time!” At least I got to see ONE thing this time: Sherwood Forest! I asked Ian if we were very far from it and he said, This is IT! We were driving through Sherwood Forest!!! I turned around to tell DH and The Girls. What a treat! It was very old looking, dense, with ferns carpeting the area between the road and the trees. I’ve never seen anything like it in the states. Very cool! We reached the outskirts of Notts. It was our driver’s hometown and Ian gave me a little commentary as we drove along. It’s a very nice, very English looking town and quite attractive – a nice mix of old and new. I love the contrast between a row of quaint old buildings anchored at the corner by a gas station or a modern store. It’s pleasing, rather than jarring, to see the two side by side, a celebration of both the old and the new. I appreciate a people that honor their past, respect it and preserve it, and yet manage to live a life that also reflects the 21st century. We reached our hotel and I hurried out of the van to check-in. I didn’t feel strong enough to watch the suitcases unloaded. I had remembered the Marriott Nottingham as a pleasant place near the venue, and it hadn’t changed. I got our room key, we took the elevator up to our room and stepped over the threshold into hell. I knew there was *something* about the Marriott, something that made me uneasy, but I just couldn’t remember what it was. I try to keep a few travel notes, and I often include a few comments about the hotels in my writing, but two years can be a long time, particularly when you continue to stuff your brain with tour and travel minutia. I had shrugged off my unease and made reservations there, remembering only that we had had a good time. Opening the hotel room door caused memories to immediately come flooding back. What I had forgotten was the SIZE of the rooms! Darling Hubby and I struggled in the door thru an EXTREMELY narrow chute, barely wider than the door itself. He went in first, incredulous, laughing weakly and saying “I can’t BELIEVE this!” I stood a minute in the doorway, trying to decide if my one large suitcase would make it into the room. The queen-sized bed took up the entire room leaving a foot (if that) on the side nearest the bathroom. There was barely two feet between the bed’s foot and the desk. I couldn’t get my suitcase IN to the room and had to lay it down in the corridor next to the desk. After I put it down, we were trapped. You had to leap over the suitcase to get to the bathroom or out the door. In fact, the bathroom had more turn around room than the bedroom. DH moved to the window, drew back the curtains and bent over laughing. I didn’t see what was funny, as our view was of the rooftop below and another hotel wing across, and he pointed to the window jamb. It was covered in yellow and black POLICE TAPE. I knew immediately what had happened. Another poor wife had made the reservations and the couple had been similarly trapped in this awful room. No doubt, her husband had killed her. I suspected MY fate was going to be the same. I looked around and realized it was the exact same room that SueC and I had been in 2 years before! Aaaargh! It wasn’t a room. It was a prison cell. DH laid down on the bed, still laughing and I offered to go down and BEG another room, price no object. No, no, this is FINE, he assured me. After all, it was only for one night and we’d pretty much only be sleeping there. He decided to take a nap and though I needed one, I couldn’t stay another minute in that broom closet. The walls were closing in on me and I couldn’t breathe. I made my escape, leaping over my suitcase and out the door to the spacious (relatively) lounge downstairs and drank latte after latte until my nerves jangled from the caffeine rather than from the memory of being walled alive in my own private Vincent Price movie. Very few hotels are all bad. A shabby one might have a sweet and friendly staff, a hotel room with a tiny bathroom might have a window with a glorious view. The Nottingham Marriott had several things in its favour. (HAHA One finds “u’s” everywhere in the UK.) The lattes were beautifully layered, not in the least bitter and were served by the young staff with a friendly smile. The food wasn’t bad and was quickly served. I wearily realized I should have known something was amiss when the internet rate for my Marriott reservation was a full 30 pounds less than their lowest listed rate. I sighed into my latte and wondered what Darling Hubby would say when he found out that I had paid $220 for a night in the smallest hotel room in the free world. I can’t repeat what he said. I checked with the bellman and was relieved to hear that my memory was correct in one aspect at least; the venue was a short uphill walk from the hotel. DH and I set off, armed with a brolly, an umbrella to us Yanks.  There
were a lot of people out in Nottingham on a Saturday night and there were
long lines at some of the restaurants. We arrived at the venue and
I stayed across the street to take a few photos. Even though we were
early, a lot of people were arriving for the concert and I noticed SECURITY
at the doors. I surreptiously pulled my camera out from my raincoat
pocket and took a few shots of the venue’s sign, then crossed over and
sat down on a convenient concrete wall to watch the crowd. I’m glad
I didn’t need a ticket, because there weren’t any being sold outside the
venue.
I’ve found it’s always best to enter along with a group, not giving the security personnel time too much time to eye you. I avoid many potential problems that way. There were two big guys in black jackets at each door, and I was surprised when all they did was say “Good Evening” to the patrons. There were no queries about cameras and I didn’t ask any questions! THE VENUE The Royal Concert Hall in Nottingham is a lovely modern venue. The feeling of spaciousness is heightened by the glass walls. One enters into a large lobby full of concert goers socializing. My seat required a set of stairs which ended in another, much more narrow lobby overlooking the main entry. The second level lobby was packed and required careful negotiating to make it through without spilling someone else’s beer. The concert hall itself is VERY nice with a large main floor gently sloping to provide a good view of the stage. There are two balconies. The seats of the first balcony curve forward almost to the stage, making the foremost balcony seat in line with the front row. It should be a very nice vantage point. A friendly young security guard told me the concert hall sat a whopping 3700, and at last count, 3600 seats had been sold. I had noticed a number of people at the box office and would bet that it was sold out by concert time. The Moody Blues are pulling them in in the UK! The comfortably large stage held the usual setup. Front row was a just about perfect 3 feet from the low stage and the mikes only 2 and a half feet from the stage edge. Six feet from a Moody Blue is PERFECT. Any closer and I feel uneasy. After all, it’s within smacking distance! LOL  The
Royal Concert Hall has made the list of my top ten world venues.
It’s big, but intimate, you’re not on top of them but as close as you could
ever want to be, and the sound was concert hall excellent. Add a
sell out and an enthusiastic crowd and you are set for a concert night
that will knock your socks off.
THE FASHION REPORT JH - Pajama top, black slacks, shoes, no change at half JL - White long-slvd “bib” shirt, black jeans with leather pockets, boots, 2nd half, black long-slvd shirt with pleats and small ruffle down the placket, boots GE - Jimi Hendrix shirt, black slacks, 2nd half, Hula shirt Norda - Fringe dress Bernie - White sleeveless tunic over white pants Paul - White long-slvd polo shirt Gordon – 2nd half black T, white pants What I call Justin’s “pajama” top is actually a long-slvd collared shirt, no pockets, off-white with a small print, buttoned almost to the neck. However, I can just imagine it paired with pants of the same material with the feet attached to them, with thin rubber soles on the bottom. My son had a similar pajama outfit when he was four. It’s all I can think of when I see it! Norda’s hair is longer this tour and she was wearing it slicked back behind her ears at Notts. It was a fantastic look with her beautiful fringe dress. THE CONCERT A perfect start was the kick-off to the evening. The UK Tour 2004 setlist was performed in its entirety with a 20 minute intermission. The standard, excellent performance seen in both Glasgow and Newcastle was offered to the sell-out crowd at Nottingham, much to their delight. There were no obvious errors on Saturday evening; it was a fine performance. I thought the sound was unusually good, even on the front row. A lot of energy was coming off the stage and a lot of energy was flowing back to the performers. Everyone on stage looked happy, smiled a lot, and looked like they were having a great time. It was a winner!  A
number of fans started their tour at Nottingham and it was heartwarming
to see all of them – the English, the Canadians and of course, the Americans.
Meeting up with old friends (and making NEW ones) is always the best part
of the tour for me. LynneBoo and JackieP waved from the center of
the 4th row and Chuck and Pam, who I had met at the Star Plaza in good
old Merrillville, Indiana were down from me on the front row. Will
gave me a shout from the center of the 3rd row and I laughingly promised
that I wouldn’t stand and block his view. I was quite surprised when
a well-known English fan passing behind me unpleasantly said “GOOD!” Well,
huh. I don’t expect everyone in the Moody World to be friendly, though
I appreciate it when they are. I AM surprised when a fan is overtly
and intentionally hostile. Shrug I consoled myself with the
observation that she looked much older than she had in 2002. LOL!!!
I wandered out of the hall after TSIYE and caught up with Su from Vancouver and had a nice bit of special sharing with her. It’s moments like those that completely offset the negative experiences you might have. We hurried back in so as not to miss a note of Forever Autumn. There’s tremendous frustration on the part of American fans about Forever Autumn. It’s not performed in the States! I have asked a member of The Band why it’s not performed in the USA and the reasoned reply is that it was a big hit in Europe but not in America. That makes sense to me, on the other hand, I don’t see how it would hurt to add it to the setlist in my home. I had relished it at every performance on the 2002 UK Tour and was hoping and praying that they would add it to the setlist in 2004, and I’m thrilled they did. It’s an incredible live performance. Breathtaking! It always gets a huge ovation from the audience. I far prefer the stripped down version of keyboards, the Olson and vocals to the original release. It’s exactly the way it should be performed and the result is powerful and inspired. UK audiences are very lucky to hear it. I know a hell of a lot of Americans who are dying to! I noticed and was continually irritated by a barrage of flash on the front row. One after another! We were close enough to the stage that it surely must have annoyed the performers and it was highly distracting to the other patrons on the front row. You sometimes run into someone who hasn’t been to too many concerts and has never scored front row before and just doesn’t realize what they’re doing. These people should have known better! If you can’t turn off the flash on your camera or effectively tape it over, then don’t take photos. It’s rude!  The
overhead screens were back up in Nottingham (they had been missing in Newcastle)
and looked great. The screens really add a lot to the light show
and it’s something you can enjoy in the first 10 rows. They’re not
so much that they distract from the stage performance, rather they add
an interesting and contributing element of colour and movement. I
was again blinded by the lights during NIGHTS and will be bringing a seeing-eye
dog to the rest of the concerts. It’s like staring into the sun.
There was ONE unsettling thing on stage at Notts. Noticeable snuffling was coming from the artist at center stage. I saw it a couple times and didn’t think anything of it. After all, Justin looked great, rested and happy and was giving an excellent performance, God bless him. A few more times and I thought – Uh Oh! It was a harbinger of things to come. The second half was excellent from Forever Autumn all the way down to the ending notes of SeeSaw. AYSC was particularly beautiful, Singer was rockin’ and the audience was up for Question. I warmly thanked my security guard at concert’s end and enthusiastically complimented the Royal Concert Hall. He smiled and said he hoped I’d be back. I certainly will! I’d like to give a special thanks to a friend and benefactor for my FABULOUS Notts seats. It was GREATLY appreciated! : ) MaggieMay Like the sun thru the trees, You came to love me. Like a leaf on a breeze, You blew away... Photos by Maggie and Gabe |
|
London |
