Wednesday

The getting there bit has been flawless. Greenshades Travel excelled themselves with prompt and efficient service plus a baggage back-up vehicle. North Terminal Gatwick was quiet generally, and as we were well ahead of time the dedicated check-in for group travel was ours exclusively. The flight was on time, and in under 2 hours we were all collecting our luggage from the carousel. Bill, the Mancunian tour rep, met us complete with sign, and we were whisked in air-conditioned comfort to Bardolino.

The hotel is comfortable and we have all just finished an excellent three-course dinner before returning to Verona for the Festival opening tonight. No problems at all - even the variegated menus our small group requires have been catered for.

A busy day tomorrow after a very late night expected this evening.

Thursday

It's 1735 as I type, and mufti-clad choir members are flitting through the foyer where the PC sits. Today was perfectly balanced pre-performance. We had a late start, i.e. breakfast at 0845 (a good spread), before gathering in a small day room in this excellent hotel for the rehearsal. David directed it a capella (no piano) which lasted for just over an hour, then it was coach loading and away to Verona. Bill, our helpful guide, had picked up water for the day at supermarket prices, and after distributing same gave a commentary on the coach PA of places of interest on the journey.

Parking outside the city walls we walked slowly to the centre where we had pizza for lunch in a jolly self-service restaurant.

Our next short walk took us to the Teatro Nuovo where we met the coach in which were the concert uniforms. We changed in the smallest cloakroom in groups of 10 then processed through the backstage labyrinths to take the platform. With the choir looking totally poised, Julia gave the note for the first piece, David gave the up beat, AND OFF WENT A MOBILE PHONE IN THE WINGS. Talk about recovery of poise and focus! Julia gave the note again and the competition began.

Pueri Hebraeorum    Rain Dream    Yo le canto

I believe the choir excelled themselves in every way. Time will tell if we become a Golden choir but we have every chance.

Straight off the stage we came and onto the coach after forming a chain gang to travel all our baggage from the smallest cloakroom in Verona to it.

40 minutes later back at the hotel it was photo opportunity time, followed by ice-creams all round. Everyone is now either having a relaxing walk by the lake or simply enjoying being still in their rooms before we dine at 1930 in the hotel. Tomorrow it's Venice.

Friday

As Icelandic ash floats in the atmosphere we have been floating in a more traditional manner today. Packed lunches stowed aboard the coach driven daily by Sylvio, we departed some time after 0800 to drive through sunny vinyards south; traffic was light at the beginning but snail pace as we left the motorways on the approaches to Venice. Facts and figures about the countryside we travel through on these journeys were supplied over the coach PA by our knowledgeable guide - so dosing isn't an option.

The road approach to Venice is 'ugly industrial' as opposed to 'pleasant inviting' but 5 minutes into our private transfer boat's cruise to San Marco things changed dramatically as we were transported into living history.

The weather remained perfect as we docked at Viccario and walked straight to San Marco square, joining a shortish queue to go into the basilica. Bags not being allowed, the good Ros & Catherine became literal bag ladies to the side of those awaiting entry. In 10 minutes, or less, out came the choir who had been whisked round that wondrous church in the throng of fast moving tourists.

Walking out of the square we advanced to the water to turn left and head along the water-front up to the Arsenal where we had our picture taken on the bridge directly in front of the ancient dock yard.

Our picnic was taken in Garibaldi Park after which we sang to the occupants of a small cafè whilst filtering choir members to the single loo within (this twist on singing for your supper was because using public loos costs €1.50).

We walked back to Vaccario Vaparetto station and caught the number 1 to Rialto, and 10 stops later after seriously getting the atmosphere of moving about in water just like traffic on any road, we alighted at one of the most famous bridges in the world - for shopping - of course.

Laden with life-long treasures we snaked our way through the fascinating narrow streets back to San Marco to take the big boat ride to the coach park. 2 hours later it was back into the hotel to wash & brush up for supper.

FYC now all know about the Iceland volcano and like you all await what news is given out with alacrity.

Saturday

After torrential rain during the night came a thunderous dawn, in fact we rushed to the coach outside our hotel in wet conditions. All cleared as we approached Verona (approx. 40 km) where we alighted in the sun and warmth of a beautiful spring day. David & Gillian went directly to the Town Hall for a Civic Reception whilst the choir dispersed like frightened rabbits into the warren of a huge market on the town square and were so subsumed by it that I didn't see anyone from my cafè seat for 59 minutes (they were given an hour). And so, into the Teatre Nuovo to take our seats in the front two rows of the orchestral stalls for the closing ceremony. The anticipation was palpable on all our faces as plaudits were showered upon one and all. A French rural (rustic) choir were awarded Merit and the only one to receive such; as the morning would reveal, Merit was the lowest on the rung of 25 choirs. Through the myriad of Bronze and Silver awards we waited and wondered, but secretly I knew that - unlike a brass band competition with one award left, many go home bitterly disappointed - for us that was not to be the case. The choir semi-erupted at the first language announcement resembling a word sounding like Farnham, and the term ballistic best describes the reception of the ultimate announcement in our mother tongue. On our feet like a barmy football crowd I lost my cool and managed to produce 7 or 8 shaken-up pictures totally useless for recording the event - genuine apology for that.

After a protracted arrivederci involving community round singing we took the stage to give a rendition of 2 songs as a lap of honour, a privilege offered to the other few recipients of Gold awards.

The packed opera house unpacked slowly as all the choirs snaked through the streets of Verona towards the old Austrian Barracks where long tables groaned under the weight of a buffet lunch and were besieged by ravenous performers. We seemed to twin a bit with a Brazilian choir that had its own accompaniment of recorders, drum, cello and other accoutrements. We sang to them and visa versa. Stories and repertoire swapped and discussed with other groups, too, before we wended our way to the Verona Arena - a vast 17,000 seat open-air amphitheatre (Roman - what else?).

Down in the place where lions formally ate folk the workmen were constructing the staging for this year's summer opera season, and from that area a gladiatorial conductor tried to tame all of us to sing in unison Amazing Grace, Va penriero and Ode to Joy. Catherine sang the loudest.....

Back on the coach for the return to Bardolino the expectancy of a resolution on our travel arrangements was evident, and just before our 6.00pm supper Graham called to say we would be repatriated by Tuesday late afternoon all being well. The choir received the news before they started eating and were in ebullient form as they boarded the coach for the church in Cadidavid (49 km) where tonight they partake in the Friendship concert with 2 host choirs.

ETA back at Hotel Vela d'Oro 1130pm.