The King's Men this year had their first Easter North and South Tours since pre-covid! From the 10th to 16th of April, we gave concerts at Carlisle Cathedral, Lancaster Priory, Bibury (Cirencester), Westcott (Surrey), and Romsey Abbey.
Easter South Tour Blog - Jack (Baritone)
Hello from the South! Jack here, to take you through the tales of our time in Westcott and Bibury. The KM Southern contingent set off in high spirits, taking in the familiar road to Westcott with a brief peradventure to St Albans Cathedral, sustaining themselves at the local Wagamamas. After a whistle-stop rehearsal, they delighted an enthusiastic audience with shanties, spirituals and some impromptu Chopin from Mr Davies! Westcott has been a perennial fixture on the King’s Men calendar, so we were delighted to continue our longstanding relationship. Following an evening of wine and Gershwin with our hosts - the men enraptured by the self-playing piano - a well-deserved rest awaited… well, after Mr Supramaniam had rescued Mr Harris from a gargantuan spider, that is.Keen to make haste to Bibury, the group’s collective indecisiveness resulted in a thrice-delayed, but nonetheless gratefully received, pub lunch in Marlow. Mr Tuft was particularly pleased to explore the town’s 200 year-old hydraulic water lock! KM’s trusty ball games made a resurgence upon our arrival in stunning Cotswolds surroundings, before conviviality amid the breaking of brownies became the order of the afternoon at one of our hosts’ cottages. Rufus and Scrumptious, two hosting canines, have been adopted as group mascots. Delightful suppers were enjoyed with our new host families, before beds (or pubs) came calling once more.
A scenic, sacred sojourn was selected for the next morning, the group taking in the beauty of St Peter and St Paul, Northleach. Mr Todes had exercised restraint all morning but, enamoured by the building’s palpable spirituality, cried out his ever-trusty call for a ‘bit of Tallis Lamentations, anyone?’ After prying the group away for lunch (Mr Rodgers gutted by his ‘this tastes like chicken’ venison ragu…), fine-tuning was done on our set. Mr Supramaniam prowled and growled, Mr Blake soared to dizzying heights, and a game of hide and seek was played mid-performance. The people of Bibury were hugely warm in their reception, the group particularly indebted to the generosity of their hosts, who prepared a delicious, full-team meal. With heavy hearts, it was time to depart; Mr Harris and Mr Davies missing the agreed call-time after one final effort to cajole Scrumptious into joining them in Cambridge. The group had a wonderful time, taking away lasting memories and new friendships and, hopefully, leaving behind some very happy audiences…
… and Mr Harris’ shaving razor.
Easter South Tour Blog - Jack (Baritone)
Hello from the South! Jack here, to take you through the tales of our time in Westcott and Bibury. The KM Southern contingent set off in high spirits, taking in the familiar road to Westcott with a brief peradventure to St Albans Cathedral, sustaining themselves at the local Wagamamas. After a whistle-stop rehearsal, they delighted an enthusiastic audience with shanties, spirituals and some impromptu Chopin from Mr Davies! Westcott has been a perennial fixture on the King’s Men calendar, so we were delighted to continue our longstanding relationship. Following an evening of wine and Gershwin with our hosts - the men enraptured by the self-playing piano - a well-deserved rest awaited… well, after Mr Supramaniam had rescued Mr Harris from a gargantuan spider, that is.Keen to make haste to Bibury, the group’s collective indecisiveness resulted in a thrice-delayed, but nonetheless gratefully received, pub lunch in Marlow. Mr Tuft was particularly pleased to explore the town’s 200 year-old hydraulic water lock! KM’s trusty ball games made a resurgence upon our arrival in stunning Cotswolds surroundings, before conviviality amid the breaking of brownies became the order of the afternoon at one of our hosts’ cottages. Rufus and Scrumptious, two hosting canines, have been adopted as group mascots. Delightful suppers were enjoyed with our new host families, before beds (or pubs) came calling once more.
A scenic, sacred sojourn was selected for the next morning, the group taking in the beauty of St Peter and St Paul, Northleach. Mr Todes had exercised restraint all morning but, enamoured by the building’s palpable spirituality, cried out his ever-trusty call for a ‘bit of Tallis Lamentations, anyone?’ After prying the group away for lunch (Mr Rodgers gutted by his ‘this tastes like chicken’ venison ragu…), fine-tuning was done on our set. Mr Supramaniam prowled and growled, Mr Blake soared to dizzying heights, and a game of hide and seek was played mid-performance. The people of Bibury were hugely warm in their reception, the group particularly indebted to the generosity of their hosts, who prepared a delicious, full-team meal. With heavy hearts, it was time to depart; Mr Harris and Mr Davies missing the agreed call-time after one final effort to cajole Scrumptious into joining them in Cambridge. The group had a wonderful time, taking away lasting memories and new friendships and, hopefully, leaving behind some very happy audiences…
… and Mr Harris’ shaving razor.
Easter North Tour - Paul (Musical Director and Bass 1)
While Jack and his colleagues frolicked in the Cotswolds on the second day of their tour, the other half of our merry band of songmen began their trip to the North. Armed with backpacks stuffed with polished shoes, black tie, and (rather optimistically) swimming trunks, the team met bright and early on Thursday morning. Despite our eagerness to begin the five-hour drive, there was a panicked false start when one of our members realised he'd forgotten his music, and sprained his ankle in his haste to retrieve it. To protect his dignity, that member should probably remain nameless. Once Alex found his music, our two cars (driven expertly by Jacob and Henry) set off. The journey flew by as we lost ourselves in barbershop classics booming from the car radio, and soon enough we arrived in Carlisle. After a coffee and a millionaire's shortbread, which I promptly spilled over my lap, we rehearsed in the beautiful cathedral, while bemused tourists looked on. The concert later that evening garnered a standing auvation from an impressive majority of the audience, which we soon celebrated in the local pub with our kind hosts.
The next day, we took the scenic route out of Carlisle by glancing off the edge of Scotland. After realising that it was equally rainy on that side of the border, we continued the road trip towards Keswick. We ended up, predictably, in another pub, which served us steak pies, chicken supremes, and fish & chips. The next leg of our journey had us speeding through the lake district, while Tom apologetically finished off his aromatic prawns and sweet chilli dip in the car. Our concert that evening was in gorgeous Lancaster Priory, a venue several of us remember fondly from our most recent summer tour. Another successful concert behind us, much merriment was had over olives, salted nuts, and - yes - beer. The only thing on our schedule for the next morning was a drive home, which we augmented with a detour through the peaks. After a pitstop in a dense forest, Harry led us through the undergrowth to find a spot by a lake, where we affectionately sang 'Oh, Danny Boy'. Our epic travils entered their final stage with Matthew once again folded up like a piece of origami in the back seat.
While Jack and his colleagues frolicked in the Cotswolds on the second day of their tour, the other half of our merry band of songmen began their trip to the North. Armed with backpacks stuffed with polished shoes, black tie, and (rather optimistically) swimming trunks, the team met bright and early on Thursday morning. Despite our eagerness to begin the five-hour drive, there was a panicked false start when one of our members realised he'd forgotten his music, and sprained his ankle in his haste to retrieve it. To protect his dignity, that member should probably remain nameless. Once Alex found his music, our two cars (driven expertly by Jacob and Henry) set off. The journey flew by as we lost ourselves in barbershop classics booming from the car radio, and soon enough we arrived in Carlisle. After a coffee and a millionaire's shortbread, which I promptly spilled over my lap, we rehearsed in the beautiful cathedral, while bemused tourists looked on. The concert later that evening garnered a standing auvation from an impressive majority of the audience, which we soon celebrated in the local pub with our kind hosts.
The next day, we took the scenic route out of Carlisle by glancing off the edge of Scotland. After realising that it was equally rainy on that side of the border, we continued the road trip towards Keswick. We ended up, predictably, in another pub, which served us steak pies, chicken supremes, and fish & chips. The next leg of our journey had us speeding through the lake district, while Tom apologetically finished off his aromatic prawns and sweet chilli dip in the car. Our concert that evening was in gorgeous Lancaster Priory, a venue several of us remember fondly from our most recent summer tour. Another successful concert behind us, much merriment was had over olives, salted nuts, and - yes - beer. The only thing on our schedule for the next morning was a drive home, which we augmented with a detour through the peaks. After a pitstop in a dense forest, Harry led us through the undergrowth to find a spot by a lake, where we affectionately sang 'Oh, Danny Boy'. Our epic travils entered their final stage with Matthew once again folded up like a piece of origami in the back seat.