England: V Day OR The End Of The Road
Friday, May 20th
By Friday morning, Mike and I had completely figured out when and how to eat a hotel breakfast. We moved swiftly through the lines, grabbed exactly what we wanted (with nothing wasted), and ate in plenty of time to be on the coach to leave. For future reference, it only takes a week to get the hang of hotel continental breakfasts.
We were on the coach in time to head out to tour the HMS Victory. To be honest, I was not looking forward to the tour. Who is Lord Nelson? Why should I care? Why was this on the tour? None of these things I knew... so, yes, I was most definitely not looking forward to this tour. So, as we approached the harbor, I was sure to snap a picture when the tour guide woman told us that the HMS Victory was over there *points*. Wanna see?

There's only one problem with this picture: That isn't the HMS Victory.
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Yeah... the TOUR GUIDE didn't know which ship was the ship we were there to see. She was an idiot! So I've now got this completely useless picture which I didn't delete so that I could show everyone what an idiot our tour guide woman was. But, regardless, we eventually found the actual HMS Victory, which looks a lot like this:

1) If I were to crop this, it would be perfect; 2) Three levels of cannons + cannons on the top deck = a whole lot of cannons!
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And so, the tour of the HMS Victory began. I must say that they have made NO attempt to make it handicapped accessible, which made me feel pretty crappy. Big H was able to wheel herself onto the ship, listen to the tour-guide for about five minutes, and then wheel herself off... without getting the full tour. And what a tour it was! I never thought I would be as interested in the HMS Victory as I was. The tour guide (whose name escapes me) was informative and interesting... and we learned the origin of certain phrases and terms like "the head", "three square meals a day", and "cat by the tails". I still don't care about Lord Nelson... but I was very happy that the Victory was on our tour.
After our HMS Victory tour, we were magically whisked away to Chichester... where I spent some time trying to find a gift for my father. Having no luck, I accidentally and serendipitously found a group of people for lunch at the Cafe Nero. And, after lunch, Miss Chelsey and I had enough time to walk around Chichester. It was an absolutely lovely afternoon, but we basically only had time to walk up and down two streets before we had to get back to the Chichester Cathedral for rehearsal.
Now I have been told that my blog has turned a bit "whinny"... and, if you thought before was bad then you're going to love how I felt about the Chichester concert. I was DONE... I was done singing, I was sick of singing, I was actually a little sick... I was done by Chichester. And, to make matters worse, we had a two/three hour rehearsal before the actual concert.
Now, about the rehearsal... we were quasi-forced to sit next to a member of the Chichester choir. I sat next to a dude who introduced himself as "Steph"... which I guess is cool in England, but made me think of a woman's name. Sorry Steph. At any rate, Steph and I were only able to communicate cross-culturally by talking about what comedy movies and TV shows we liked. Family Guy, Simpsons, Kevin Smith movies, and Who's Line were all shows we talked about... and it became quite clear to me quite quickly that he was not one of the 'cool kids.' I suppose I fall into that category as well. Ehh... at any rate, we didn't have much time to talk, because it was time to sing again.
It was the Chichester choir director who warmed up the combined choir... and that was great! I've never had as good a choir warm-up as he led. We warmed up diction, the high range, and the low range and everything... it was a great, full warm-up.
We then sang what I would refer to as a "whole bunch." I, honestly, was just trying to get through it before my throat got too sore (which it was after a week of staying up late and lots of singing). I was almost not paying attention enough to notice when DRR said "I need more organ"... but I was paying attention enough to titter quite loudly.
After the rehearsal, a group of about eight of us only had time to walk across the street (quite literally) to West's, which was a bar that was a converted church. Yeah, church converted to bar... would NEVER happen in the States, but was an awesome ambiance! I got the most perfect looking Guinness in the history of beers (which Jill took a picture of... and I'm still waiting to get a copy of it), and we had a great meal (Two for Five pound cocktails makes any food taste better!).
But, before long, we were forced to go back to the cathedral to 'take our medicine' and finish our concert tour with the final concert. By the time the concert started, my throat was completely sore and I already didn't want to sing. Ouch! I'm a whiner!
The other conductor, however, was so into the concert and the music that I enjoyed the long piece for which he conducted. He also was quite good at queuing entrances... and cut-offs... and I enjoyed singing for him. I wish I remembered his name. Regardless, half the concert was good and fun and I enjoyed it even though I was in pain. However, Scotty P leading the choir onto the wrong riser (partially my fault) led to the second, less interesting half of the concert. By the time we were doing the Chichester Psalms, and DRR was back to conducting, I was supremely done singing on this tour. I just wanted to get it over with... and, soon enough, it was.
And then, before long, I was on the coach headed back to the Marriott. As is our choir tradition, we decided to sing the Alma Mater before we got to the hotel... it was that song that really got me. I teared up... thinking about how it was the last time I will probably ever sing with the Albion choir. It will be certainly the last time I sing with the college choir still feeling somehow a part of them.
As we reached the hotel, I changed clothing to go down to the combined choir reception. I grabbed some greasy, pretty weird tasting hors d'oeuveres... and made a quick round of the room. It was somehow decided that the choirs would sing a little something to impress each other (or something) and we sang "Lean On Me"... the Euphonic's arranged full choir version. That song was probably the first time on the whole trip that I felt completely comfortable (as I had done the perc for it a couple of times before) and as if there was no pressure on me to be any good. Yes, I had felt pressure to be good because I was the old guy who shouldn't have been there... I needed to be good to prove that I should have been there.
Regardless of pressure, I left that reception pretty soon after the song so that I could spend as much time with Miss Chelsey as I could before we left the island. Ooo... was that something juicy? Hold on, it gets better...