JRR and I stayed in Albion Square so we were divorced from the day-to-day craic of the annual workshop weekend.
The hotel seemed more than adequate and, for JRR and I, the staff couldn’t do enough. The location was ideal for
walking on South Cliff and the town centre.
The rehearsals were intense and relaxed, difficult and easy. Thanks to all the solo performers.
Friday night, on arrival, it was all down The Ramshill Arms, which, over recent years, has not enjoyed the best of
reputations as a family venue for a drink and a meal. I’ve taken my son a couple of times for the pool table and a few
beers (he’s into a few nowadays), but the smoke tended to cut our session short. I was pleasantly surprised this time –
the smoking ban has made a big difference. JRR, Andy J and I caught the turn’s first set. A standard combo of drums,
base guitar/singer and lead guitar. Poor. They took a break as the bulk of the choir arrived. Their second set was great. I
had to get off my seat and take a look to make sure it was the same lineup.
Saturday night began at The Cask for some. A sing, a quiet beer and a chat. Graham Evans, Rod Gooch and myself had
an hour on education. There was praise for the plumber and the joiner, pride in children’s academic acheivements and
optimism for today’s opportunities compared to the fifties and sixties. Then back to The Ramshill Arms and
Scarborough’s very own Elvis. A bloke with a mike and a keyboard. He had something else too. Not sure what it was
but the crowd went beserk. And not a hint of bad behaviour.
We were up for it in Tadcaster. The changing facilities didn’t faze us. How did we do it? Straight off a practice
weekend and a song at tea in the church hall. We strutted with confidence.