So we had the night to kill in Exeter.  Sunday nights in small English Country towns are not renowned for their endless options for entertainment.  I figured we had a fine cast in Murray, Kris, Sean, and Myself, so I was not one bit concerned.   

GBS played Exeter in the early 90’s on a Government funded tour called “Tip of the Iceberg”, featuring four bands from Newfoundland showcasing the Province’s talent.  I remember one particular little square near the Cathedral that was lined with lovely Tudor(??? I have no clue about architecture) buildings that look hundreds of years old.  I wanted to show Kris this corner as he had never really seen the English countryside and this was a postcard opportunity.  Of course I had no idea where to look for this corner and could not even call it or the Cathedral by name to ask directions.  Might be in store for a wandering wild goose chase in search of a distant memory.  To make a long story short, we walked out of the hotel, turned right, saw the Cathedral, walked up one street in that direction and found ourselves in the exact spot I remembered from over a decade ago.  Tourist mission accomplished in less than ten minutes.  Off to the pub, guilt free.

We made our way to a place called the Angel, as it was recommended by the hotel staff.  Over the course of the next few hours, we four discussed several ways to cure world hunger, dominate the music business for decades to come, and get the attractive waitress to leave her home, family, and life in general to move in with Murray.  Normal dandy chat at the pub before giving it up for the night.  

We made a pit stop in the hotel lobby bar and had a grand chat with a young Polish gent who shared with us his zeal for Catholicism and his talents as a Margarita maker.  Good as a concert.  Sean almost quit the band and became a Jesuit.

I’d call that a good effort at making the most of a Sunday night in Exeter.  

We jumped the train for London in the AM and made it to the Hotel on Russell Square in downtown London.  I’d never been to this section of the city which is dominated by the massive British Museum.  I have always jokingly begrudged the British Museum as it proudly holds and displays treasures from each of the cultures once conquered the British Empire.  In the heart of downtown London, in this museum, you can blow the dust off rare and precious icons from Pakistan, India, Australia, and even Newfoundland.  These artifacts are so far from their true homes that you would want to run through the halls screaming, “GIVE IT BACK!!!”

The gig at the Borderline was hot and sweaty.  Been a while since we had a steamy pub gig, so I was very glad to rock hard in the London night.

The following day was a free day and a few of us, including my brother Bernie, who joined us over night, went to see ‘Spamalot’ in the West End.  Can’t say that I loved the show.  Cool nostalgia for Python fans, but I hang around with singers, actors and comedians.  They re-enact Python regularly, and less predictably than this show.  Of course it won a zillion Tony Awards and is loved in many cities where it runs, so what do I know?

We blasted off to Hamburg and drove to the Tonder Festival.  What can I say about this festival that I have not said before?  It very well might be the best Folk Festival on Earth.  We had a great time with Runrig, Danu, and loved watching Liam Clancy in the Old Mill.  We dined exclusively on Ristet Hotdogs and drank way to much Gammeldansk.  Look them up.

Whew.  Grand run through a few European countries.  

Home for a rest.

Cheers,
Alan