by Cath & Cathy
An early start. We can confirm that WCB Chairman Gregor is doing pirouettes and saying how excited he is at 6:15am.
‘Pick up at 7.30’ is the first thing on our instruction sheet from Owen. It is 7.20 and everyone is here which is amazing. The coach arrives courtesy of Thomas of Rhondda, repeat business from Owen apparently; but will this give us an identity crisis and confuse the Belgians?
Bags and instruments loaded. Players and supporters counted by Owen and passports checked by Gregor (a wise precaution). Robert (our driver) informs us that the coach toilet is for ‘number ones only’ and that we should let him know of any other ‘emergencies’ and he’ll stop as soon as is practical. Hmm. Owen gives out incredibly impressive tour packs – within what seems like 30 seconds, the first polo shirts are being worn and Jen has completed the devilish Sudoku. Then comes the slog down the motorway but the sun is shining (will it last?) and spirits are high. As we approach the M25, Graham sets up his mobile canteen and is offering tea and pains au chocolat to those at the front of the coach. A quick pit stop at the services for coffee. Back on the coach and another head count. Owen will be counting to 35 in his sleep soon.
And so to Dover, arriving at 10.37 for an 11.30 ferry. Perfect. Well, it would be except that the 11.30 ferry is freight only. A big Oops by Thomas of Rhondda who booked it. But the sun is still shining so hanging around for an hour more isn’t too bad. Band bonds over trashy magazines and coffee. Messes up Owen’s schedule though, as we have a boat trip booked later in Ghent. But he just gets on the phone and sorts it, while the rest of us remain oblivious.
Eventually we board for an uneventful, but pleasant, ferry crossing and an equally uneventful zip through France and into Belgium. On the ferry, the chairman pronounces that we are officially on French time at 13:18 (because his phone told him so). In France, Owen reveals a cunning plan to avoid taking any responsibility in an emergency – apparently his blackberry isn’t enabled for Belgium. This is dangerous ground as there’s a risk that people may have to rely on Gregor! And into Ghent – looks good – and has trams! Just time to drop the bags in the hotel and then Owen leads us on a quick route march through the town to the canal for our boat trip.
The boat trip….very entertaining but mostly for the wrong reasons! 35 of us squeeze into a cosy little boat with white umbrellas. Off we go for our 90 minute tour. Sitting at the back the speakers seem to have little impact and there is no chance of hearing the commentary but no matter, we can still see the sights and, well, make up our own. Apparently the boat company has suggested we played some music under a bridge, so Owen has organised a brass quintet from among the troops. The trip is enlivened by the contortions of the five attempting to get instruments out of cases and music attached, and how Phil finds space for the trombone slide between us sardines we can’t imagine. The acoustic under the bridge is fab, but sadly the bridge isn’t very big and the driver seems unable to keep us there so we end up driving round in circles under it, much to the amusement of the locals.
Then the real fun starts. Most of the bridges in Ghent are very low; we think the driver probably told us that the umbrellas will lower automatically, but of course we didn’t hear it at the back. So when they get lower and lower we all get the giggles. For the rest of the ride our view of Ghent is mostly what we can see by peering out. The umbrellas rise and lower almost continually depending on the height of the bridges. Add in the cynical commentary from back-seat commentator Andy and you can imagine that the whole experience takes on a rather farcical nature. Great fun!
Back on land, the band reveals its cultured side – first stop is the Irish Bar. Then it is time to search out dinner. This is not so easy in large groups on a Saturday night but eventually a group of us find a place with fairly reasonable food and a good selection of beers. Having Sioban’s husband Mike in the group is definitely an asset when it comes to choosing the right Belgian beer (and it’s also good because he is a nice bloke)! So eight of us pass a very pleasant evening together (even though some of us are sitting next to Andy again). Meanwhile, elsewhere, Dave indulges in the world’s largest pasta dish (a local speciality, apparently) and, separately, 12 of the group maintain standards by dining at Pizza Hut.
Back at base, the hotel bar is doing a roaring trade whilst the band swap stories on restaurants and sample more of the local brews. There’s a rumour that the vice-chair may have consumed slightly too much alcohol. Being in Belgium with the band seems pretty good so far!
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