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I wake up and pour two cups of coffee down my throat before getting
ready to go into London. Our Saturday night show in London got
canceled after how big the Thursday show became (understandable, since
the Saturday show was booked first and the Thursday show was supposed
to be secret), so we've had to find a pick-up show. Since we're already
in London, we have plenty of time to sight-see.

Nuala's father is already up, working on a laptop in the kitchen. He's
tall and intensely charming, wearing a smoking jacket and a broad
smile. He makes coffee and regales us with tales of seeing Jimi
Hendrix and visiting West Indian soul clubs in the '60s. He's like a
well-read cross between Richard Branson and Pierce Brosnan.

Mike, Steve and Daisy are ready to go, so we leave first, buying
day passes for the London transit and then taking the Jubilee line to
Westminster. Years ago when I filled a day with a solo trip through
London, I got off at the Baker Street station on this line just to see a
certain famous address before getting back on. We get off in the
middle of tourist central, the tube station right next to Big Ben.
After taking our obligatory tourist pictures we wade through the
crowds over to Parliament then Westminster Abbey and walk through St.
Margaret's Chapel. Then it's over past the War Cabinet and the Horse
Guards’ Parade where we see some Royal Guards in their legendary rigid
poses. It's pretty hot, and we just feel sorry for them.

We split up then, the others heading in the direction of Soho while I
take off for a few hours of history geek wonkery. I travel south, past
a memorial to the women of World War II, 10 Downing St. and Parliament
to Lambeth Bridge which offers a wonderfully inclusive view of the
city.

On the other side of the Thames is my goal, the Imperial War Museum.
The admission is free and the experience is priceless. The vast
central room is filled with vehicles, armor, artillery and aircraft,
mostly from World War II. Displayed in the air are Spitfires,
Luftwaffe fighters, even a V2 rocket. They have a mammoth tank from
the first World War, "Monty" Montgomery's command tank, a trusty
American Sherman and a Soviet T-34, the most important and decisive
armor of the war. A gem is the massive German Jagdpanzer, with its
massive 88mm main tank-killing cannon and armor coated with
distinctive Zimmerit to counter anti-tank mines. Throughout the museum
are displays on trench warfare, life during the Blitz, an art gallery
full of original prints and an entire upper floor entirely devoted to
a heart-rending exhibition on The Holocaust. I spend several hours
taking it all in then head back to the tube to West Hampsted, grab
some Indian food and meet up with everyone back at the house.

The evening's show is a benefit, so quite a few bands play before us,
and we won't even be able to load in until just before we play. A
small group of metalheads has shown up, very excited to see us play,
and we talk to them for a while. Nuala, Roy, Jonny and I are bored out
of our minds, so we go across the street to a restaurant. It has gotten
downright ridiculously cold outside, especially for July (everyone
tells us we just missed the big heatwave).

Just before our set a trio plays that reminds me of The Gossip -- except
they have a female drummer who lights her cymbals on fire.

Finally it's time to play. We load our things onto the tiny stage, and
one of the metalheads shoves a bottle of black absinthe in my face and
demands I have some. I don't want to be rude, so I oblige. The
bartenders thoroughly hate the set (it's not really our kind of place),
but the owner seems to enjoy it, helping Stevie climb up into an
alcove above the front door to play his snare drum up there during the
organ solo. The metalheads go crazy and almost tear Eddie apart on the
beer-slicked floor and everyone -- except the bartenders and security --
have a good time. We pack up and get the hell out of there. We're
leaving early for the Dour Festival in the morning, so the partying is
a bit more subdued this evening, and we say our goodbyes to our
gracious hosts and incredible friends Roy and Nuala in advance.

Imperial War Museum - http://www.iwm.org.uk/
 

About the Author

Phillip Price is the keyboard player for Wilkes-Barre-based band An Albatross.

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