On The (Windsor) Fringe

Johnathon

Johnathon

What a start to the new season! 8.30 a.m. on a Saturday morning is not normally my idea of ‘the best time to get up’ but for a change, I was quite happy to. We were going to visit the Queen in Windsor! Off I toddled armed with a surprisingly clear head, sheet music and a wealth of Enya on my headphones to soothe me into the day. The fun started early, bumping into Carol on the bus on the way to Waterloo, and doing what the Pinkies do best – chatting with a hint of the gossip.
Windsor’s fringe festival had invited us to participate in some street singing and to woo the ears of passers-by. And woo we did. Eventually.

windsor

Pink Singers performing in Windsor

After a train-ride full of sunshine and lovely lake views (it was just like Sweden all over again!), we arrived. Shock no. 1: we were singing about a mile from the station. Shock no. 2: Michael’s keyboard weighed about 5 tonnes. Shock no. 3: I agreed to carry it. Upon arrival, we were rather bemused to find that the generator we needed to power the mother of all keyboards made a noise akin to a speedboat, and refused to give us any power. Much umm-ing and aah-ing ensued. Quick-thinking Tanya saved the day with a trip to the hardware shop and on we went.
Bemused shoppers stopped to listen in the sun, curious toddlers were agog at Michael’s digital dexterity, and we the Pink were happy to be back singing. A quick set and a romp through Bond was just what we needed to work up an appetite. Off to the tapas bar, where lunch was consumed in record time, and back for a repeat performance, where we bumped into ex-Pinkie Ben about to leave for Oz. Fair dinkum (and the best of luck to you).
As ever, once we had finished, it was destination: pub. With the keyboard. And raucous laughter and singing. Then the train: ditto. Then (surprise!) another pub in Waterloo. Aah, I knew there was something missing from my life. I didn’t know it was 6 pints of lager, but you live and learn. Roll on next year. And I promise I’ll have learned all the words by then.
by Johnathon
Tenor


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