Beefeaters and Puccini

March 19, 2007

Beefeaters and Puccini

We climbed in the car and headed south
Trying to stay on the left.
Stopping at Durham by the Tynemouth,
With Bry’s navigation quite deft.

Our friends Brad and Abi then jumped aboard:
Off towards Cambridge we sped
To stop and buy books that we couldn’t afford
(at least that’s what bank statements said).

A lunch of baked tatties, a stroll by the Cam,
The choir at Kings closed the day.
Their tone was perfection, in hymn, song and psalm,1
From thence to London away.

With Starbucks' assistance our tour began
Westminster Abbey up first.
The church was enormous, ritzy and grand,
(though entries fees all be cursed!).

The graves of the monarchs may interest some,
Or poets, or so many more.
But we sought and found Countess Lennox’s tomb
Where we sat ‘til our bums all felt sore.

(For those who don’t know, be ashamed of yourself:
She’s Lymond’s great nemesis.
Strong, cold and wicked in all her great wealth,
His downfall near-brought by her kiss.)

Then to the Tower (where prices would rise),
To take the Beefeater’s tour.
There hundreds of souls had met their demise
Out on the ‘beheading moor’.2

Madame Butterfly with dramatic flair
Closed our evening’s delights.
We climbed into bed, sweet notes in the air
Until the morning daylight.

Our souls went to All Souls where they found delight,
Then off for a stroll in the park.
But life in the North called us back before night
And we got back to Durham by dark.

1. Pronounced Scottish style as ‘sam’.
2. Thankfully, none while we were present. And that’s not the technical name; it just rhymed better.