Tyred and Exhausted

     We're home.   I can say for myself that I feel like I've been rode hard and put away wet.  I'm in recovery.
The above sign is from a "petrol" station in Blyth, Northumberland.  Kristi took the picture while I was pumping "petrol".   At that time we were heading off to the midlands after playing up to Fleetwood, Lancashire from Hambledon in the south.  We were full of energy, but not without our apprehensions about the long journey ahead of us.  It was the third of three 5 day runs of bookings.  This time we were headed into two clubs, two pubs, and one festival.
     The first destination was John Montague's home in Syston on the outskirts of Leicester (pron. lesta).  John has known us for a long time, is one of our oldest friends in the UK.  We stop in to visit John, and his wife Angela whether he has a booking for us or not.  He has been a professional musician for a long, long time and in that regard is an exception to the rule.  He has played in many a barroom, like Kristi and myself.  He has often lent us a PA system, and this trip was no exception.  He had found the pub bookings for us, and he booked us at his "acoustic" club.  His club, unlike folk clubs, is host to acoustic rock players, blues players, songwriters, and virtually anyone who can make music with an acoustic guitar.  I'm not even certain that he won't accept electric guitar players, although John now claims to have given up the electric many, many years ago.
     When we arrived John wasn't home from producing a radio show that he's been working on, so we visited with his wife Angela.  Angela has recently changed jobs, has done so a couple of times in the last year.  Both her parents, and John's father have been having health problems.  John has had his share of health issues as well.  In short, they've been experiencing a lot of stress.  John has just finished putting together a recording studio in the back of the house.  He, and Angela live in a duplex apartment on what is called an "industrial estate".  That means that at one time the place where they live was providing housing for employees of some kind of manufacturing firm.  It is really a nice house by UK standards (we've visited a lot of them).  John arrived home with two guests, one a guitarist that he introduced as the best guitarist in the UK.  His name is John Hicks, and he is a genuinely talented fingerstyle guitarist who plays across the spectrum in genres.  The CD he traded us for had ragtime, blues, classical, and pop music on it.  It was all played exquisitely.  The other guest was Ellie, John's partner in organizing the music club.  John, and Angela fed us all, and then we bundled off to the club which has it's existence in the clubhouse at a golf course on the outskirts of Syston (I think).

Kristi comments on John Montague:

'The days drifted by during our last week of touring and each day reminding me of the count-down to the twenty-eighth.  We opted to accept the gracious offers from our good and generous musician friend John Montague of two pub gigs following his own acoustic club gig, all in the upper Midlands.  John succeeded in getting us on the BBC local radio program with an interview and airplay of our latest recording projects, "Tandem" and "Detour". ' 

     There was another friend of ours there at the club, the host of a BBC country music show, Mick Smith.  He was playing string bass behind everyone.  We gave him some CDs to play on his show, and he called up the next day when John was interviewing us for the radio to let us know that "Tandem", our latest CD is "brilliant", which means pretty good.  All in all, it was a very positive experience.
    Before being interviewed we had spent the night at Nigel's house.  Nigel Lawson is a semi-retired teacher.  That means that he no longer is really in the teaching system, but he is a part time tutor.  He inherited his parents house in Loughborough, which is where we stayed.  It is a huge house by UK standards with a large vegetable garden in the back.  I asked him if he slept in a different bedroom every night.  We traded CDs with Nigel as well.  He plays harmonica, and would you know it, blues.  His band call themselves "The Dangerous Dogs" which must be an attempt at irony.  It is difficult for me to imagine the 6'4" bespecktacled Nigel as dangerous.  He lived in Kent, south of London, and taught high school there for many years.  Loughborough, where he lives now, is in the midlands.

Nigel Lawson  -  "Wow!  Your CD!  How cool!"

     After our interview with John Montague we were off to a couple of days with the Pitts in Bedfordshire.  They are the organizers of the St. Neot's Folk Club.  We've stayed with them before.  They have a nice extra bedroom with a good bed.
     I am still trying to figure out what it is specifically that delineates a person from the UK, and an American.  In the UK there are Yorkshiremen, Cornish, Welsh, Scottish, Irish, English, and probably more.  I referred to a Yorkshireman as an Englishman, and I think we may not be on speaking terms anymore.  Oh yeah, Geordies are another group.  Many of these groups have their own languages, which may differ more, or less from broadcast English.  Oh my.  It is difficult.  Do not speak ill of the nobility.  I actually haven't been in a lot of conversations that dissected the culture there.  In spite of that, I've probably alienated a few people.  Kristi is probably my salvation, or the closest thing to my salvation that I've got in the UK.  She is generally cheerful, friendly, kind etc.  I'm usually the one with the uncomfortable questions, and the songs without heroism, and bravery.  All that said, I do better in the UK than I do here for audience, and reverence.

Patti and Roger Pitt in their garden.

     So, as I said the next stop on the road was the Pitts.  I mean Roger, and Patti Pitt.  We have stayed with them several times, and they have a delightful lifestyle that is carried on  in the English countryside near Bedford.  They have bees, and a large garden, which includes several greenhouses, two dogs, two cats, and a social schedule that beats most of the other people that we stay with.  I should write an entire blog on Roger.  He is a complex person who I get little bits out of everytime we see them.  He talked about an early loss of a father, and doing poorly in school, how it affected him etc.  It seemed for a moment as though he was searching for who he really is at this point in his life.  He has been to the Himalayas, and is proud of his two sons military service.  He rides a motorcycle, and does a lot of the work on their big house.  He was painting the outside of the brick construction while we were there.  He had retired in the last year, so had more time to do things like that that had been ignored while he was working.  He was an engineering draftsman for a living.  Patti was a teacher, and is also retired.  We attended that opening of a pedestrian bridge while we were  staying with them.

Cut the ribbon

The Pitts lead the processional

Kristi's comments about this:
"We stayed with our friends Roger and Patti Pitt in their rural home near Cambridge.  We've known them for around seven years and have appreciated their hospitality in conjunction with their club, St. Neot's Folk Club.  They took  us with them to experience some local culture in the form of a ribbon-cutting for a new bridge.  They led a ceremonial crossing of the bridge with their own musical performances on accordion and sticks for percussion, along with a small team of Morris Dancers, all costumed.  Afterwards we joined the Mayor and City Council Chairman, each festooned with ornate gold chains around their necks.  Then we joined the townspeople for a reception with the many varieties of England's favorite sweeties, my favorite being jam tarts.  The bridge was an attempt to encourage sustainable transport, being designed for feet and bicycles."


    We went to the St. Neot's Folk Club with Patti and Roger.  They asked us to do a floor spot, which is like the opening act, and we played "Outback of Bohemia", "Big Floppy Hats" (requested by Roger), and "Angels of the Road".  Roger has asked us to play the club as a guest act next time we come over, which is nice.  They have an exceptionally nice room for their concerts considering the size of the club membership.  There was a trio of women playing traditional style songs, much of it instrumental.  They call themselves "Zoots".  We were definitely getting in the mood to get on an airplane by the time we got to the Pitt's house.  The next night we were booked into a pub in Stoney Stratford.  It is an old, old town with a lot of character.  Well, what part of England isn't like that?  We didn't have time to appreciate it much though, as we went to the club, set up, played, and went back to the Pitts'.  That was a hotel pub.  The hotel was the Old George.  The proprietor said we were one of the best acts she'd had there.  We sold a CD, which was pretty good considering how few people were there.  I liked that gig.  We arrived back at the Pitts' around midnight.  They were still up, having been out to meet with their choral singing group.  We had some whiskey, and sat up for awhile talking.  Roger and I often agree to disagree about many things.  In spite of that, we have a lot in common with Patti, and Roger.  The next day Roger had a doctor's appointment and set out for that on his motorcycle.

Roger and his motorcycle

     From there we were off to the Leed's house in Sawbridgeworth.  We were playing the Stortfolk Folk Club in Bishop's Stortford.  Geoff, and Jacqui are stalwarts of that club, and often provide a place to stay for itinerant musicians.  

Geoff Leeds

     Geoff works in the center of London.  He works for a company that works for insurance companies.  He had been working with someone from AIG the day we arrived in Sawbridgeworth.  He feels that he was given an opportunity to get ahead in the world from a working class background.  He told us that those opportunities are disappearing in the UK, and class standing is becoming more stationary than it was when he was of an age to take advantage of higher education etc.  He said that the recent riots were at least partly due to disenfranchised, if not impoverished youth.  That scene would seem to be like the blind man and the elephant as everyone seemed to have a different take on it.  Geoff's take was the only one I heard that made sense to me.  It's not like the riots were political, they were just an expression of anger . . . giving the finger to the man as it were.
     The next night we were off to Milton Keynes and a pub on a canal near there called the Navigation Pub. We had a PA which belonged to our friend John Montague.  John had to take his father to the hospital for surgery on that day, and wasn't sure he would make it to the pub, which he had planned on doing.  Kristi got a phone call from John, and he said he wasn't going to make it, but right after we got set up a the pub, John walked in the door.  It was a fun night, and we sold more CDs than any other place we have played.  The pub clientele were quite enthusiastic about us.  John and I traded off on playing lead guitar, and all of us took turns singing leads.  It was a pretty typical night in a barroom, except we weren't a dance band, and folks were just sitting and listening when they weren't trying to talk over us.  By the time the night was over, I had had all the fun I could stand.  We followed John up to his turnoff, and then continued up towards Grantham where we had reserved a hotel room.  I was simply exhausted by the time we got in our room.  We weren't in such a hurry next day, as it was only a few hours drive, and our playing slot was late in the afternoon.  We were then headed for No. Yorkshire for the Cropton Folk and Roots Festival.  
     Yorkshire is a different looking place.  At least that's what I think.  The buildings are built from a different color of brick, and the countryside has a little different look to it as well.  A lot of people in the UK go where we were for vacations (holiday they call it).  

There were often people hanging about in front of the pub in Cropton.
The guy holding the banjo on the right is a bluegrass musician from Scotland.

     We played two sets the day we arrived, which was a Saturday.  We went first to the festival location and got the info for where we were going to stay, meal tickets, etc.  After that we had a little time so we went to the B & B where we were staying and checked in.  Driving from Cropton where we were playing to Hutton-Le-Hole, where we were staying was always interesting, as it took us through two other villages, and across the moors where there were a lot of sheep.

Typical road scene in No. Yorkshire

     The first time we drove to Hutton-Le-Hole (where we had played in a previous year), we were charged by a group of about 5 sheep.  They went around us at the last minute, and I just figured they were playing "chicken".  They won.  That night in the pub we were talking to a farmer who asked if there was a dog behind them.  In this case there was not.  The group you see above is being herded by a dog which is around the bend.
     I started our evening set with "They've Got Guns".  The audience was polite, but I'm not certain that they understood what I was saying.  After all, we were in a foreign country.   We did get some compliments afterwards, and a thumbs up from the sound guy.  We got right out of there though and had a few drinks in a in Hutton-Le-Hole.  It was our last night in the UK.  After we played the next day, we left directly.
     It was a long, long drive to the airport.  It was supposed to be a four hour drive, but turned out to be a six hour drive as there was gridlock on the M-1.  That's a motorway, not a rifle.  Our car was supposed to be turned in with an empty gas tank, but it got downright scary right at the end, and I bought a few more liters just so we could be sure we didn't run out of gas somewhere ten blocks from our hotel.  We stayed at a Travelodge which Kristi booked a week before.  It was the cheapest room we could find.  At the hotel we emptied the car.  The first room they gave us had no lights, so they gave us another room on another floor.  We had to move the stuff that we'd brought up from the car.  It was inconvenient, and I was cranky by that time, exhausted is probably more like it.
     After we emptied the car, we took it to the rental agency and turned it in.  That was easy, and they gave us a ride back to the hotel.  We then went in search of food, and ended up getting fish and chips to go from an east Asian man.  There was lots of vinegar, salt, and grease in the fish and chips.  He seemed to have a sense of humor.  It was back to the hotel, and we spent another hour or so after we ate getting our packs rearranged for air travel.  By then it was about 12:30 am.  We set the alarm for 4:30 am.  The next morning it was up and out to the airport via Hoppa Bus.
     Our airplane was a couple of hours late.  We could have slept in.  I had beer, and scrambled eggs for breakfast, and then found a seat that I could stretch out on and slept while Kristi went in search of souvenirs.  The first plane went to Chicago.  The fact that it was late made Kristi mega uncomfortable, so she was in a panic when we got to Chicago thinking that she was going to miss the plane back to Seattle.  She had nothing to worry about, as we had three hours to wait for the plane.  We had a few drinks, and Kristi bought a chicken burger from McDonalds, which I harassed her for doing.  She just smiled and told me how good the chickenburger was.

Kristi says:
    " Home these days for me takes on a more urgent need for being grounded than it did during the years of travel in Canada and Alaska.  Then I had the subconscious grounded-ness of knowing the place in my heart where home could always be was family, wherein I could always count on being welcomed back with some level of unconditional love.  With that gone, I have a neediness for the actual ground of familiarity in my physical home, and the people who inhabit it have become much more necessary to my emotional well-being.  Drifting around from city to city every day feels more dangerous and vulnerable to me than it once did, though I suppose that makes me a bit of a weenie.  But it does feel good beyond words to be home again.  My pillow-top thick king-size mattress with a feather quilt feels like love and is without a doubt the best bed I've had since leaving twenty-nine days ago." 


     We are home now.  Jet lag is a little like being drunk, only it's just with the negative side, no real high.  You are just uncoordinated, and cranky, and want to go to sleep all the time.  You can't think, and I know it will last for a few days.  We have been harvesting what's left of our garden.

     We are playing on this coming Sunday at Applesqueeze Festival in Steilacoom.  We play from noon to 2 pm.  You could come and drop by to say hello.  We'll be there with a sound system, and we'll be all day.
It is great to be home.  Steve & Kristi Nebel