After a brief period of rest and recuperation, the
Nightingales are back on the road. Tonight, the band is in Cambridge at the The
Portland Arms, an ancient coaching inn at which it is rumoured that Queen ‘Good
Queen Bess’ Elizabeth once stayed for a night, en route to a hog-roast held in her honour by a local nobleman, Sir
Goddfrey of Little Lowerdown, who was, at that time, seeking preference in the
eyes of Her Majesty in order to further his ambitions as a Private Equerry to
the Master of the Rolls in the Duchy of Trumping Wattle. On tap is a local ale
– Goddfrey’s Gobbler (3.7% ABV) –
dedicated to the long-dead nobleman. The band quaff several pints of this heady
brew before soundchecking with their usual ruthless efficiency.
The audience this evening clearly comprises of the ancient
University town’s intellectual elite. I spy Sir Charles Montgomery, author of
international best-seller Space, Time and
Infinity: A User’s Guide, sweeping through the crowd, mortar-board perched
precariously on his head, gown billowing around his ankles. Clutching his pint
of Goddfrey’s Gobbler, he looks every inch the Cambridge Don,
as do several members of the audience.
In the sun-dappled beer garden, Robert ‘The Chief’ Lloyd
holds forth on the art of lyric-writing to a spellbound group of duffle-coated,
bespectacled students. They are clearly honoured to be in the presence of one
of the nation’s greatest ever lyricists, and seem to be writing down everything
Lloyd says. “The trick,” says Lloyd, “is always to use at least one big word
per sentence.” Heads nod; pencils scribble. “Take a word like
‘contemptuous’...” More nodding; more scribbling. “It’s got four beats to it,
and that’s a big chunk of the lyric written already. See?” The students glance
at each other, smiling. This is a moment they’ll remember for the rest of their
lives.
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