Not all beer and skittles

Press, 26 June 1978, Page 2

Not all beer and skittles

By

BRIAN CLARK,

compere for the National Band of New Zealand

It is not all beer and! skittles being a member 'of j the 1978 National Band of New Zealand. Burnham Camp is not the warmest place at this time of year, and for those first few nights away from the wife and the electric blanket, sleep is not the most easily attained state. The band has started a fortnight’s training at Bumham preparatory to its quick trip through New Zealand and then the stern competition of the world champ; on ship at Kerkrade and tours through the Netherlands, Britain, Canada, and the United States.

Just in case you are a little envious of these lucky fellows, this is the schedule they will have to follow for the next two weeks: 6 a.m. rise and shine. From 7 to 7.15 a.m. breakfast is served; and if you arrive at 7.16, sorry, no grub. 8.20 a.m. is warm-up time in readiness for the main rehearsal, which begins at 8.30 a.m.

and goes through to midday. Lunch is from then to 1.20 (p.m. That may sound like a ' fairly luxurious lunchtime until you learn that the mess hall is at least 10 minutes walk away from the barracks. If you want an evening meal you have to arrive at the mess between 5.10 p.m. and 5.20 p.m., then after dinner, it is back to the camp theatre for rehearsal until 9 p.m. After this, you are at liberty to play up so long as you remember that 6 a.m. is not too many hours away; and if you do happen to have a bit of head next morning, that bass trombone blowing in your ear is not exactly the best kind of aspirin. This Army grub is better than we had expected. It is so good that one B flat cornet had to depart at the trot from our first practice with i his hand clasped over his mouth. It was not so much the sickness as the indignity of returning to one’s seat in the band with ‘0 blokes and

one girl showing a somewhat morbid interest. The comments did not help much, either. That one girl by the way, Julie Mason, of Takapuna, has already fitted into the band so well that it is obI vious any future National (Band will be unusual if it [does not contain more than 'one woman member. Mind [you, she has the eight women of the Aotearoa Maori group for company if the male chauvinist bit gets too heavy. Apart from rehearsal, time has to be found for myriad other things. The band has to march, and march damn well. W’ith all this rain, there has been no time to practice and several of the more corpulent instrumentalists have breathed sighs of relief — but their time will come. Our new uniforms have arrived and our rather smart fawn walking out gear will be delivered today — one hopes it fits. We have all had our cholera and smallpox inoculations and handed

in our doctor’s certificates saying that we are fit for an extended overseas tour. Deciding how much money we could afford to change into traveller’s cheques was a little dicey, and how far it will go when we reach Singapore is anyone’s guess. Drum Major Tony Cowan touk great delight in telling all the chaps about the clubs, bars, and messes which dish out entertainment at Burnham, then took even greater delight in pronouncing the lot out of bounds to all bandsmen. But we will have our own bar, they have promised. Not that we will get much chance to use it — but bandsmen being what they are, it will see some use. But what of the- band as a band? When you ask the experts they say “Oh, Merv’s got a good band.” In band language, that means it is very good, perhaps even good enough to be the world’s best, for the thrid time. The next month will tell.