(by John Davies)
(hear the rest on the video)
February 02, 2022
January 25, 2022
Burns Night Medley
#BurnsNight #burnsnight2022 #Burns #BurnsSupper A brief medley to get the party started.
Click on the link above to access the fun!
January 24, 2022
Marie Mouri by Peacock's Tale folk indie duo
https://peacocks-tale.bandcamp.com/track/marie-mouri
A David L Greely song
January 06, 2022
December 31, 2021
December 28, 2021
Birth of a Human Being
Birth of a Human Being
My snow soul is slowly taking shape,
Falling from heaven to inherit the earth
And the family features of God and ape,
Angel out of my element from birth…
And this is me, this helpless drop of Man,
This perfect mould of bud and mineral,
Crawling, flight, and every earthly thing.
All of it – nothing.
Yet I’ll assert I AM
In time by striving upright endlessly;
Inherit here a kiss, to milk, like grist,
The love that made me, and by which I’m born;
The word that speaks its perfect mind, the fist
That grasps its imaged God; the whole torn
And bleeding womb of human history.
Note: 35 years ago today, in the Queen Elizabeth hospital King's Lynn, I witnessed my wife giving birth to our firstborn, still favourite (and only) child, Emma. Things started mid afternoon at a quiet and in my case traditionally bilious long school term post-Christmas get together with the neighbours at about 3 pm the day before and went on all night and all morning and just into the following afternoon. (I remember noticing that Norwich City won 2-1, wondering how such a remote event could register.) It was horrendous enough witnessing the birth. I am glad I never had to achieve the feat myself. But it was of course the ultimate labour of love and today, incredibly, our daughter is 35 years old. She has since extended the line by marrying our favourite son in law and giving birth at the same hospital (really nice Maternity unit btw) to two children herself, a daughter who will be four in February and a son who will be two in October.
35 years ago about now, I came home, wrung out by the experience, pranged the car reversing into the drive into a discarded dining room table I forgot we'd left there, and - exhausted, relieved, delirious - wrote , no, not this sonnet but a precursor of it called 'Animal'. A few days later, I picked my family up from QE and we started the greatest adventure, most important human activity and worst paid career of child rearing. Providentially it snowed almost as soon as I'd got them home and we were cocooned for a week, a much needed accidental paternity leave in the age before they gave you any. During that week in lieu, I wrote this sonnet.
Happy birthday Emma! XX
December 26, 2021
Being Santa
As I waited for our grandchildren to arrive and witness my premiere of this most iconic of roles, I shivered slightly. Not just with the damp December cold but with the responsibility. Here was Isla's encounter with the magical childhood Santa we all treasure in our memories. (Theo at a year old so as was unlikely to be find it any less strange and wonderful than his normal encounters with his grandsire) I felt the weight of generations and centuries on my shoulders. Was my cod Nordic yodel and white beard sufficient disguise to sustain the magic of otherness in the familiar garden den Isla had helped me prepare? Would I fluff my vaguely Scandinavian up and down lines ("Ho ho ho! Have you been a good girl for your mummy and daddy?") overwhelmed by the epiphany of heaven's generosity and earth's humanity I was suddenly embodying, sotto voce, centre-stage and spot-lit in the radiance of a childhood delight? No Method actor (three months living with reindeeer in Lapland on mince pies in a thin red suit communicating only in High Elvish; then matching every word uttered to a motivation and a movement of the stuck on eyebrow so that I really 'felt' it, - whether the audience did or not) could have felt any less charged and apprehensive. I recalled terrified moments behind the curtain at my Edinburgh fringe shows listening to the audient come in.
In the event, I needn't have worried. "Grandpa! she shouted through the gap in the trees (top left) from the road below. The stocking hanging off the bough and the red and white through the depleted winter hedge succeeded in bringing delight but not it seems even a willing suspension of disbelief. And then it unravelled even more spectacularly and unexpectedly when she arrived at the grotto entrance and shared that sudden childhood terror of seeing a white bearded loon in the gloom.
"But don't you want your present?"
"No! it's too scary."
Ah well, maybe next year. (Theo will be two so you never know.) Fortunately our daughter, their mother, was old enough to deputise and console.
December 24, 2021
December 23, 2021
December 20, 2021
December 18, 2021
December 12, 2021
Postmodern Post-man Pat's Theatrical Trailer for 'Covid's Metamorphoses'...
A tale for today... and tomorrow and tomorrow. We'd call it a panto. But we're living the panto...
Check the album out here... https://peacocks-tale.bandcamp.com/album/covids-metamorphoses-the-prologue
December 07, 2021
Saints and Sinners Christmas EP by Peacock's Tale Audio
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about
Press Release
‘Saints and Sinners' is a cover of a folk song by Scots-Canadian David Francey performed live to camera on YouTube from our cottage in Sedgeford.
“We set up the studio so that everything – voices, harmonies, guitars, percussion – rings out like a bell. In case the audience is in any doubt, we’ve blended some Fring Church bells (as rung on a Sunday morning by our local vicar) into the live mix.”
The song’s composer won a John Lennon award for songwriting in 2010. The down to earth message of the lyric is that “it’s a long way from heaven to Bethlehem”but with a deep sympathy for “the joy and the sorrow of my fellow man.” Fellow survivors of the early 70s will recognise the nod to Lennonism in the jingly jangly hippy 60s mix.
The EP covers the 'Christ' and the "Mess' of Christmas with a sonnet set to a drum and bass soundtrack narrating the 'Journey of the Magus' and an a capello cover of the Scots folk song 'The Parting Glass.' This Saints and Sinners motif is further pursued with two gospel covers 'You Gotta Move' and 'Down to the River To Pray'.
The whole package may be streamed or downloaded from Bandcamp (search for ‘Peacock’s Tale folk indie duo’) and the ‘A’ side viewed on YouTube from December 6.
‘Saints and Sinners' is a cover of a folk song by Scots-Canadian David Francey performed live to camera on YouTube from our cottage in Sedgeford.
“We set up the studio so that everything – voices, harmonies, guitars, percussion – rings out like a bell. In case the audience is in any doubt, we’ve blended some Fring Church bells (as rung on a Sunday morning by our local vicar) into the live mix.”
The song’s composer won a John Lennon award for songwriting in 2010. The down to earth message of the lyric is that “it’s a long way from heaven to Bethlehem”but with a deep sympathy for “the joy and the sorrow of my fellow man.” Fellow survivors of the early 70s will recognise the nod to Lennonism in the jingly jangly hippy 60s mix.
The EP covers the 'Christ' and the "Mess' of Christmas with a sonnet set to a drum and bass soundtrack narrating the 'Journey of the Magus' and an a capello cover of the Scots folk song 'The Parting Glass.' This Saints and Sinners motif is further pursued with two gospel covers 'You Gotta Move' and 'Down to the River To Pray'.
The whole package may be streamed or downloaded from Bandcamp (search for ‘Peacock’s Tale folk indie duo’) and the ‘A’ side viewed on YouTube from December 6.
credits
released December 6, 2021
See also - https://peacocks-tale.bandcamp.com/track/the-peacocks-talk-turkey-the-meanings-of-christmas
license
tags
about
Peacock's Tale Folk/Indie DuoSedgeford, UK
It's all right, folks, we're married. A marriage of melody and rhythm. Indie folk, Norfolk noir, historical ballads, musical ... more
October 02, 2021
September 06, 2021
August 05, 2021
The English Civil Wars and Other Nursery Crimes coming this Sunday!!
The video premieres Sunday August 22, 11 am. (date the Civil War started in 1642)
A musical film of the Phezant Tail’s new album “The English Civil Wars and Other Nursery Crimes” which premieres on August 22, the date the English Civil War began in 1642. Both album and film tell the story of an England at war with itself in the Roundhead v Cavalier conflict of 1642-1651 (and the origins of that conflict in the English Reformation of a century before) revealing the hidden meanings of familiar nursery rhymes associated with those conflicts. This soundtrack is linked here to still images of the folk and storytelling duo in Royalist and Puritan costume against the historical interior (stained glass, plain glass, wall paintings, whitewashed wall paintings, altar rails etc) and exterior of a small local parish church in Norfolk, which preserve the story of those conflicts. It also features two colour plates central to the story of that Radical 17C attempt to build a visionary new England by the artist William Blake from his mixed media works ‘Milton’ and ‘Jerusalem.’
Photography by Bhas Allan. (Additional photography by the Phezant's Tail)
The costumes are Cromwell's Preachy/New Jerusalem (Maz) and Whore of Babylon/Old Gloriana (Gaz) depending on your point of view!
Digital download of album with full notes, lyrics and credits https://phezants-tail.bandcamp.com/al... (this link also goes live on Aug 22)
June 30, 2021
Let us expiate
1970 (England 2 Germany W. 3)
"At 2-0 up, my England never lose!"
Swore Dad, and twenty minutes later I
Had lost my father too, wondering why
He'd cheated me like foreign teams, or news
Of English captains nicked, or fools who'd choose
To take wor Bobby off: the Sixties died
In Pontypool exile then, in Groveside
Villas with its Nineteenth Century views.
Pan's People changed to Legs, the Oh No band
Yoked John, Starrs fell, Paul's flare stopped making sense,
'uddersfield 'arold became "Hampstead" Heath;
Brazil were back and in the sun they'd tanned
Our English hide, so '66 had meant
Nothing, meant all things pass - except defeats.
(Pic- performing this piece at the Granary Theatre, Wells, 2000.)
May 03, 2021
March 25, 2021
January 30, 2021
January 30, Humpty Dumpty and The Siege of Lynn
The nursery rhyme "Humpty Dumpty" is said to be a concise folk account of the English Civil War. In some interpretations Humpty Dumpty is that fallen would-be Absolute Monarch (Charles I) himself, whom all his cavalry and men couldn't restore. In others it is a piece of fallen royalist artillery on the walls of Colchester during the siege of 1648. We wonder if the rhyme immortalised the moment when the Humpy Dumpty of Absolute Monarchy was forever broken in these islands as not even the Restoration of 1660 could put Humpty together again or prevent him developing back into the Parliamentary model.
January 30 1649 was the day Englishmen took the rather un-English step of chopping off a Head of State ("Chop off his head with the crown upon it," as Cromwell put it) and January 30 1661 was the day the only English republic was symbolically beheaded in the posthumous exhumation and beheading of Cromwell's corpse, until then honourably buried in Henry VII's tomb. (Cromwell's head now resides secretly in Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge, the college he himself attended but had to leave on his father's death.) So it seems a fitting day to release our gothic musical comedy about a decisive early action in the Civil War, the Siege of Lynn of 1643.
It makes a nice tourist-story to suggest Lynn was a valiant Royalist town holding back the tide but in fact the backwoods Cavaliers who stormed and held it for a month had as much legitimacy as the thugs who stormed the Capitol in the last days of Trump. The royalist coup, against the two legitimately elected Parliamentarian MPs and a Parliamentary mayor, was led by a Sir Hamon Le Strange of Hunstanton Hall (a large painting of him still has pride of place in the elegant Town Hall) anxious for his large but precarious personal fortune if the Parliamentarians won the war and started to address corruption. He was right to be anxious. His, and his son Roger's, passionate Royalism was indistinguishable from their financial self-interest and the deaths, destruction and terror their month-long coup brought down upon the strategically vital port were ultimately in that very cavalier and not very noble cause.
It's also important to remember that the King was not the constitutional monarchy of today, which most of the Parliamentarians would have fought for themselves, but a deluded tyrant. It would be a much better heritage story to explain that in 1643 a key victory for the future progression of Britain was fought and won across the great Ouse between West Lynn and Lynn. Parliament would never have won the War without its naval supremacy and the port of Lynn, along with its supply route into London and ten counties, was essential to retaining this at the start. Once Lynn was re-secured, the War could be fought on other frontiers. But if Lynn had remained in the hands of unelected cavaliers long enough for the royalist Duke of Newcastle to relieve the town, the whole course of the war might have been different.
Credits:
A Phezant's Tail-John Charlton composition.
(Words and bridge: The Phezant's Tail
Melody on the verses and chorus: John Charlton)
Produced by The Phezant's Tail
We are indebted to John Charlton for his work on this track, the first in a two way collaboration between us. His melody helped us marry those mutual exclusives: poetry sung and poetry acted (a long ambition of ours). He also sang with us and played acoustic and bass on the chorus and verse. And a very good time was had by all.
Pic of Lynn from West Lynn by Bhas Allan, taken in January 2019. Cromwell's Parliamentary artillery bombarded Lynn from this side while its navy blockaded from the Wash. The stained glass (west) window 'shot all to hell' was in the double towered church pictured (St Margaret's, Lynn Minster) and happened on September 3, a spookily recurring date in Cromwell's career. (The date of his three decisive victories in Ireland, Scotland and England 1649-1651 and the day he died in 1658.)
January 23, 2021
December 30, 2020
The Covid Case (Who Killed Cock Robin?)
For digital downloads, three free listens, full notes and pics.
PART 1. Little England in the Styx
PART 2. Who Killed Cock Robin?
For unlimited free listening go to
The global investigation is led by local
UEA-educated detective Ken Hill; ‘aided’/replaced by Agatha Christ-Eyed
intertextual detective duo (or copyright fraud depending on how postmodern we
are) Poirot & Marple; along with some unspecified ‘contributions’ from American
Chlorinated Intelligence Agent Frank and Mark Adams (working out of Room 101A in
Cock Hall.) Dead Author’s brilliant Vision of the Murder vies with DI Ken’s Critical Theory, read against the grain of the text, the impasse allowing Colonel Mustard to counterplot a trumped up Fake News Story against the Murder
genre itself, replacing it with an advert for his business.
The baffled
Privatised Eyes work through a recalcitrant list of suspects; a postmodern
gossip of competing narratives and motives and several family-sized Pandora
tissue-boxes of lies. As the Last Trump of their combined effort subsides, we
hear the late Squire’s unhinged prophesy of another global virus to come – love
- which will spread from heart to heart; embrace the whole world and redeem
humanity.
The setting
Cock Hall
The locally abbreviated name for ‘Peacock Hall.’
Its long history, “Saxon foundation, Civil War change of hands”
Walpole-Townshend Enlightenment graces (paid for by African slaves); Room 101A
“full of Death Kites from China” (now infiltrated by the CIA); Krishna’s Eyes in
its Peacock Tail (stolen like Wilkie Collins’ Moonstone, from fabulous India) -
not to mention its extensive grounds embracing a Bronze Age to First World War
excavation site; a Boudicca Trail, a ‘Hereward’ Fen and a 14C “Canon Bullfinch
Rook-Lark” Church of Little England - embody the whole of English history and
pre-history. Cock Hall is England as a haunted house with a closet full of
skeletons; a Brown Lady in the attic and a Blak in the cellar. The mad wife
roams freely in the Peacock grounds.
Little England in the Styx
The Victims
Squire Robin Peacock of Cock Hall, the chief landowner of Little England In The
Styx and a recent convert to Green farming and politics. An amateur author
positioned as a Robin Hood of Loxley Hall on the side of the common man, he has
lately become a patron of visionaries and authors on his Estate, and of a
world-famous archaeological dig on his land. His great economic and political
rival in village affairs is Colonel Mustard.
Dr Blak, a Blakean-visionary author
and outsider, found dead on the cellar steps before the story begins,
nevertheless accused of his own murder (and the Squire’s) by Mrs Wight on the
basis of his colour. Appears with the Brown Lady as a headless ghost.
The murder
weapon Corona (‘crown’, ‘halo’; ‘the dome of body parts like those of the head
or penis’; ‘the luminous envelope of concentric white light around the sun’)
virus. A serial global murder weapon with the terrified world in its clutches
throughout the story.
The Interro-Gated Community (Suspects)
Eve Lady Peacock,
wife of the Squire. A High Tory Royalist and a Clytemnestra of expensive and
indulgent appetites. Her definition of Love as “a public stage for private
parts” was removed from the Dis on Sea Argus by a threat of legal action but
remains hidden among Author’s spiral notepads on his desk in his cottage shrine
‘Jerusalem.’Her name connects her to Juno and Argus, whose all-seeing prying
Eye was banished to the Peacock’s tail. Opposes the Squire’s vision for Cock
Hall; his patronising of dreamers; and his plan to marry their daughter to a
Green but as she already ‘wears the jodhpurs’ in their relationship may not feel
the need to kill him. Linked to Mrs Wight by ‘snow’. Seems to favour-
Colonel
Norman ‘D (Lightful D Leerious D) Mustard, a Trumpian entrepreneur; the Huntin’
Shootin’ and Hangin’ Tory millionaire chairman of Mustard’s Holiday Hearths who
has privatised Bombadil Common and has aggressive designs on the Cock Hall
Estate including (the Squire believes) on Lady Peacock. He represents Little
England’s Tourist as opposed to Farming interest. Provides Holiday Homes,
Holiday Hunts and ‘Authentic Hysterical Torcs’ along the ‘Boudicca Trail.’
Mrs
Self-Island Wight, Housekeeper of Cock Hall, a refugee from a Home Counties
‘invaded by outsiders’ in love with Colonel Mustard and hostile to the Squire’s
growing old-liberalism. Huntin’, Shootin’ and Hangin’ without the fortune to
finance it. Self -appointed representative of the village’s “semi-detached
bourgeois realist plot in-my-beginning is-my-Middle-England-ever-after revenge
narrative planetary-extinction-with-farm-views cul de sac.” Believes There is No
Society except private life and no business except her nose up everyone else’s.
Flies a Union flag whenever Her Majesty is in residence at nearby Sandringham.
Devoted to her ‘Snow White’ Queen Lady Peacock. Identifies with – and (her
doctor notes) increasingly as - her.
Jack Green, an ethical farmer and Radical,
who ‘would kill to Green the Cock Hall Estate’; fiancé (lately estranged) of
Miss Scarlet. A child of nature and very much in tune with the woods, seasons
and the albums Jethro Tull was making in the late 70s. Miss Scarlet daughter of
the Squire and Lady Peacock and heir to the Estate. Shares Jack Green’s Radical
passions though recently seduced by Plumski’s more violent revolutions. Runs a
‘Radical’ Bistro in Burnham Up Market.
Professor Plumski, an Old Stalinist,
running armed underground campaigns from the Gun Room of Cock Hall under the
Squire’s ‘eccentric’ patronage but hurt by the Squire’s recent preference for
the utopian ‘New Jerusalem’ of Dr Blak.
Dick Sparrow, a retired Superhead, now
retraining the House Guides for Colonel Mustard’s Cock Hall Murder Weekend. Has
invested his nest egg (derived from getting other people to do his job for him)
in an English Language School/Chinese Money Laundering Business in Hubei
Province and divides his time between the two.
A Statement from the Sparrow
Family. “We live in the grotto in Dead Author’s garden and like most sparrows
never do anyone any harm, least of all robin. On the contrary, we live in terror
of Ebony, Author’s cat. Our cheerful Christmas single “Sparrows in the grotto”
was even left off the Covid album because of our alleged association with Dick
Sparrow, a puffed up little show-off who disowned us all long ago. He turfed
several of his siblings out of the nest to feather his own ambitions. If he
dunit, we wouldn’t be surprised.”
‘Dr Blak’ Author’s avatar in his Murder Story.
(Blak is Author’s foreignized-English pen name, a self-identification with
outsiders, the oppressed, the unrepresented - art giving a voice to those who
don’t have one in society, as with the many female protagonists in Greek Tragedy
- and the original murder victim in Cluedo.) When accused of the Squire’s
Murder, maintains that he “wasn’t there”, he was “on the cellar steps, the
victim of a previous crime.” His name and cottage-name also connect him with
William Blake, Radical visionary and author of ‘Jerusalem, (from Blake’s
‘Milton’) the revolutionary New England fought for by the Parliamentary side in
the English Civil War.
The Detectives
DI Ken Hill, a rooted local (fast-tracked
after a Critical Theory degree at UEA) and very protective of his area. His
still waters run deep and very much faster than his surface appears. On another
level he is the spirit of place; in this case, of the story’s haunted Norfolk
setting (‘Icenia’) and a personification of Ken Hill, whose wooded hill and Wash
shoreline was associated with Bronze and Iron Age religious practices. Also
linked to ‘Kenning Hall’, lost palace of dead Saxon Kings; absent Norfolk Dukes,
and divining knowledge. Has hidden depths, of buried Celtic gold.
DS Len Wade
Ken’s faithful Broadland Sergeant, worried about their lack of progress in
solving the Coronavirus Murder. His name means ‘slow moving stream’ and links
with Great Witchingham, site of the last duel in Norfolk in 1698, its squire
slain by the squire of Blickling Hall.
DS Lynn Ken’s Lynn-based reinforcement, a
veteran of mean streets and mean drug crime and charmed by her holiday homicide
among the North Norfolk ponces. Wants to be Miss Scarlet and thinks everyone
else does too.
Poirot from Belgium ie an emblem of Britain in Europe, an
embattled ally whose neutrality Britain guarded by treaty and action since 1839;
and more recently, via Brussels, of the EU. Poirot is an English institution,
the genius Holmes to the wounded Watson soldier-hero friend/ami Captain
Hastings. And yet utterly foreign, a continental bachelor-dandy cartoon of
cuisine, couture and cosmopolitanism. Like Marple, makes Hastings (and many
‘macho’ English detectives) look much more of an idiot than Holmes ever did
Watson which makes its own point about continental theory over English
pragmatism/ public school twitism/ English patriarchy. Where his beloved friend
is a romantic fool where women are concerned, has instead a genuine empathy for
the female. His razor-sharp intelligence (egg shaped head) and justified
cynicism is warmed (again like Marple) by a protectiveness towards young love
and an ability to judiciously forgive.
Jane Marple (‘Jane Austen’?) An Anglican,
One Nation, Tory apotheosis of Old Village England. Viz, a Great Power engaged
in World Wars with wounded young Captains and got-rich-quick colonials returning
to loved home shores only to miss the wide open spaces, enterprise and derring
do of Empire. In short a Great not a Little Briton. An Old Maid sympathetic to
Young Lovers. Broadened by travel but sees the World in her Village and her
Village in the World. Identifies universals like Evil or Lucifer as her foe. Too
realistic about fallen humanity to be a Liberal but too good-hearted (and
genuinely Christian) to be a Neoliberal.
Chlorinated Intelligence Agent Frank
and Mark Adams, “Government contracted on a private number.” A private double
agent working out of a secret room in Cock Hall (Room 101A) on a contract for
Colonel Mustard but also probably for American interests in Cock Hall. Attempt
to solve the Covid case in classic “Big Sleep’ tough-talking Philip (or possibly
Christopher) Marlow deflated by a 2020 Trumpian tendency to foul hot air.
Private-eyesed by an equation of any public health enterprise against the Covid
crisis with Reds under the Hospital Beds. On a theory that might help the common
good, Frank declares “I can’t share it, man. It’s Mark’s.”
PC Plot PC Plod’s
political correction.
WPC Plot For those who assume PC Plot is a man. She may be
but ‘assume’ makes an ass out of you and me.
Chief Constable (John) Melton
brings in Agatha Christ Eyes (Poirot and Marple) from AC/OCD to help/replace the
existing team led by Ken Hill, at the behest of:
Superintendent “Market’ Law of
Bourgeois Realist Plod
NHS Pathologist dies on the front line of the pandemic
and vital DNA evidence is lost with him.
Author Ransome, the anti-social
socialist surrealist. Believes there is a Society just not the one he attacks in
Little England in the Styx. Self-isolated with his wife long before Covid,
though longing to be loved, catches Covid, dies surrounded by all who understood
him (none) after which he is furloughed as a ghost-writer by the Clued Ouija
Board. The shadow of his former self is ‘Dr Blak’, the visionary outsider.
Mrs
Ransome, his long-suffering wife and semi-detached cottage narrator. The sane
wife in the lockdown rather than the mad wife in the attic. When she also
perishes in the pandemic, her ‘reliable’ narrative voice is replaced by the
visions of Dr Blak, Ken Hill, Marple and Poirot.
Post-man Pat. A postmodern man
arrested in pursuit of his public duty by private vigilantes for trespassing on
private property. Public hospitalised by Covid and, when in NHS Care, leads a
public protest at the privatised shops selling quack medicines,
virus-transmitting ‘PPE’ kits; obesity drinks; heart attack crisps and stroke
sweets: and generally acting like he owned the place.
Butler He didn’t do it
(but did he see it?)
A Welsh mountain family seeking their Iceni roots in
Cockley Cley (their holiday home there is called ‘Llanfairpwllgwyn
gyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch’.) They fetch up at Cock Hall by
mistake. They can cope with the rolling Boudiccan hill and the sheep but are
traumatised by the fens.
Chef ‘Gammon’ Wight Mrs Wight’s nepotism-promoted son.
His signature dish – replacing before the Squire is even cold the previously
favoured Peacock Au Vin - is Snobside of Brexit and, at Christmas, Castrated
Cock.
The Brown Lady The ghost of Dorothy Walpole Townshend; wife of ‘Turnip’
Townshend; sister of Sir Robert Walpole, and the heart that joined them when
that family firm was thriving and ruling 18C Britain and its incipient Empire.
Now a heritage asset but will not haunt to order; a browned up Mrs Wight often
substitutes.
hanks to Nancy the Cat for her impassioned, frequently unscripted
but brilliantly timed performance as Ebony (check out her trumpet solo on Who
Killed Cock Robin? Nice.)
Dis. Hell in classical literature The music: Just drum
and bass. A dark backdrop against which the comedy may shine.
The heroes: the
NHS.
December 19, 2020
Phezant's Tail on BBC Upload
Tune in to between 6 and 7 pm tonight for our uplifting 15C "The Only Gift (A Lynn Carol)" soaring across Norfolk into your 21C devices (at a safe social distance!)
Whet your appetite with youtu.be/R1xdN1QynoQ
And check out "Who Killed Cock Robin, the Covid Case" our new double concept murder mystery album released today. https://phezants-tail.bandcamp.com
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