I march into the future with confidence

An escape indeed - Havoc Blythe as always coming up trumps on the organisational front, although that doesn’t mean he endears himself to me any more because of that.

Ludlow turns out to be a lovely small town with impossibly small streets and half-timbered houses that must date back 300 years or more (we didn’t pick up a history so I don’t know for sure).  There’s a castle, a river which floods, a bridge that fell down over a year ago and still hasn’t been repaired, thus causing streets and streets to be shut, houses that look as if they are about to fall down, parking chaos in the main streets and plenty of space on the side roads which nobody uses.

We stayed with friends of Havoc Blythe on one of the main streets (how could he possibly manage to organise all that within such a short space of time?)   Lovely people - all of whom said that they “worked for the government” but wouldn’t elaborate.  Another mystery.  They seemed on very close terms with HB - as if were one of them, rather than a maths teacher.

Friday night we went to what should have been the Humphrey Littleton Band - except “Humph” as we jazz fans call him died a few months back, so instead we got a tribute band.  I expected a night club, dingy lighting, lots of smoke (although I know that’s illegal), lakeloads of drink…

But in fact it was a courtyard outside a pub, with a temporary roof and seating.  Yes, a jazz concert with seating!   And the average age of the audience was 130.  We were by far the youngest there and got strange looks from everyone else in the audience, and suggestive comments from members of the band who were old enough to be my grandfather.

It started at 8 and finished at 10.30, and although there was drinking, that was mostly by members of the band.   Apparently the concert had been sold out on the first day tickets were issued.  How DID HB get us those tickets???

Saturday saw us all at Ironbridge.   After seeing the bridge, and a couple of museums we had lunch at a cafe opposite the bridge itself and had what must be the worst pastie I have ever had in my life, served by the rudest woman it has ever been my displeasure to meet, who also had no idea how to handle money.

HB suggested we might write a book on the cafes of England.  Binky said it was amazing that they had not only built the first iron bridge, but that they had chosen to build it in a town called Ironbridge.  What, she wondered were the chances of that?

Saturday night saw us at another jazz concert.   I thought it excellent - but after 20 minutes a trombonist turned up.  Apparently he was a member of the band and should have been there from the start, but he had had too much to drink at lunchtime, and had woken up late.

Later I saw the man who was organising the whole festival, fast asleep in his chair at the front while the band were still playing.  I suppose this is what jazz is all about - I drank modestly, but I did enjoy it.

Sunday saw us do more sight seeing, followed by a great lunch, and then the journey back.  No sign of Berlosconi, no messages on my mobile, nothing.   It was just a lovely weekend.  I can face school tomorrow, full of confidence, bravado, and the certainty that our headteacher will not get me down.

I march into the future with confidence.

This entry was posted on 29/06/2008 at 08:45 pm and is filed under News. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.

| Print