Over the centuries, Southern Spain has been the scene of many occupations, from the Romans through to the Moors. However, at the start of the October half term, the region braced itself for its newest and possibly most deadly invaders: a coalition of the concert and big bands and, for the first time, the Cutting Harmony barbershop group, an overall force numbering over sixty. It was inevitable that, like previous armies, the music tour would leave an indelible impact upon the area.

The key to any invasion is good preparation, and the music tour was no exception. On Friday 15^th October, sixty musicians and seven accompanying adults assembled on Forest Road, along with a baggage train of suitcases, instruments (ranging from a 12-inch piccolo to a six-foot keyboard) and a collection of assorted speakers, wires and microphones. As the rain fell, all of our belongings were (somehow) fitted onto two coaches and the convoy set off for airport. A combination of haggling and sweet talk in the check-in hall resulted in every piece of luggage being accepted, and we were left with over an hour to eat a final British meal, in most cases bought from that great British institution, Burger King. It was at this time that Mr. Robinson, clearly not satisfied with the condition of the barbershop group, called an impromptu rehearsal five minutes before boarding. This did not go down well with the woman on the PA system who, with a glare and a rise in her tone of voice, brought a rapid stop to When I’m sixty-four.

We departed on time and, for two and a half hours, enjoyed the comfort and luxury of low-cost airline Mytravellite. By the time the plane touched down in Malaga, it was past 11 o'clock in the evening local time. We reclaimed our effects surprisingly quickly, breezed past customs (who clearly underestimated the danger of our arrival), and boarded another fleet of coaches. We were at our base camp, the Hotel Balmoral in Benalmadena, by around half past midnight. Most were glad to turn in for a well-earned rest.

The next morning, we enjoyed our final lie-in for a while and trooped down to breakfast. This turned out to be a mixture of the familiar and the unknown: whilst we were used to toast, bacon and fried eggs, few had tasted white butter with green jam before. The fruit juice was equally intriguing: rumour has it that the ‘orange juice’ was concentrated Kia-ora orange squash! Whilst the big band and the barbershop group had morning rehearsals, others set off to explore the resort, finding both the sublime (a sandy beach close to the hotel) and the ridiculous (a McDonalds even closer). After an excellent lunch at the hotel, the afternoon saw the legendary beach football match. With many regulars on their final tour, passions were running high, and a keenly contested match ended with the sixth formers victorious. Sadly, Mr. Douglas’s hopes of becoming the next Real Madrid galactico were dashed when he was nutmegged directly from the goalkeeper’s throwout.

Soon it was time to play our first music of the ‘music tour’. Resplendent in bright red tour polo shirts and clutching the now infamous hotel packed teas (a random mixture of sandwiches, fruit and watery yoghurts) we headed to our first concert in Malaga. Or so we thought. It was soon clear that something was awry when the driver pulled up and began asking for directions. It was eventually established that our venue was not in but Velez-Malaga, forty minutes down the road. When we found the right town, we were faced with a fifteen minute trek up a hill (with instruments) to our venue, a converted monastery church. Tired and grumpy, we arrived with about twenty minutes to spare. Inevitably, the concert was not our best, the highlight being Mr. Douglas’s address to the sparsely packed hall in pidgin Spanish. We were back late, and in bed even later.

The next day saw the group up bright and early (ish) ready for a visit to Ronda, a pretty town in the mountains. Unfortunately, journey time estimates of forty minutes were way off the mark, and we arrived over two hours after we set off. The town itself was, as Hemingway rightfully put it, “a perfect romantic setting”. We spent a couple of hours exploring the town’s ancient viaduct and working stone bullring (one of the oldest in ), and then headed back to the coast. As a result of the lengthy journey time, Mr. Douglas instigated a joke competition over the coach PA system. The standard was varied, levels of rudeness were wide-ranging, but all offerings were well-received. The eventual winner was Mads Neumann with this Scandinavian-themed joke: a couple are eating in a French restaurant; the waiter comes over and says “excuse me, ’ave you finish?”, to which they reply “no, we’re Danish”. The afternoon saw a ferocious sea battle in the hotel pool, thinly disguised as a water polo game. Mercifully, no-one was actually drowned. Following a quick shower, we were off again (with packed teas) to a concert in Torremolinos. This concert, in a much more favourable venue with an enthusiastic audience, was arguably the most successful of the tour. The concert band with their eclectic mix of Spanish marches and English folk songs, the dulcet tones of the barbershop group and the swinging sensation that is the big band were all warmly received. Morale was unquestionably higher when we arrived back at the hotel that evening.

Monday was our only concert-free day, and we headed en masse to the historic city of Granada. The main focus of the day was to visit the beautiful Alhambra palace, an outstanding example of Islamic architecture which overlooks the whole city. We huffed and puffed our way to the top of the hill, and began to queue. As before, the ever-enthusiastic Mr. Robinson soon instigated a barbershop sing-along. However, this too was rapidly halted by a burly security guard on anti-busking patrol. Once inside, our enthusiasm was dampened somewhat when we discovered that the tour would be a foot-numbing three hours long! Our guide, the over-keen and knowledgeable Corpus, proceeded to show us every ornate room and picturesque garden within the Alhambra. Craftsmanship, attention to detail and the importance of nature were all evident as we toured what has rightly been likened to the eighth wonder of the world. However, due to the tour’s epic nature, we were not overly disappointed when we flopped back onto the coaches. After dinner in the hotel, we had another evening exploring Benalmadena.

A much needed lie-in the next day led to a lazy morning round the pool, with the exception of those giving the hotel’s table tennis balls a battering. After a bolted lunch, we proceeded to Marbella, and the English International College. A short concert including instrument demonstrations was given to the enthusiastic junior department, after which we played a more standard concert to the senior school – an incredibly nerve-racking experience. They received us very well, and the girls were particularly impressed by Ian Morrant’s drumming, so much so that a large fan club had developed by the time we were due to leave! After more time at leisure at the hotel, we proceeded to nearby Arroyo de la Miel for our third concert of the day. This too was a very successful performance, the big band gaining two standing ovations. We were also delighted to receive a free T-shirt each, courtesy of our hosts.

Our final full day began with a morning of present shopping, in both overpriced tourist shops and a vast weekly market; bargains and rip-offs were to be found in equal numbers. After our final hotel lunch, a last dip in the pool and a stroll along the front, we headed for our final concert in the town of Nerja. Unfortunately, the “excellent performance facilities” quoted in our itinerary turned out to be a room which, at best could have housed most of the band and no audience! Unperturbed, we grabbed as many chairs as we could find and decamped to the nearby square. In the event, we drew a much larger audience than we had for any of our previous concerts, the square soon becoming jam-packed with locals and tourists alike. Despite interruptions from the church bells, the concert went very well in difficult, outdoor conditions. The highlight was undoubtedly the appearance of two crazy Dutch fire jugglers, who proceeded to perform their astonishing act, spilling petrol everywhere in the process, to the sounds of the big band! It was certainly a concert to remember. On our return to Benalmadena, we enjoyed a final night of local hospitality, with free sandwiches being provided for the occasion.

The final morning saw a rushed early breakfast, last-minute packing and a frantic search for passports. The teachers were presented with various gifts by sixth formers, all members of the party having contributed money into the fund. The overloaded coaches left Benalmadena for the last time, and we headed for airport. Things were running smoothly…until we spotted that we were the only flight to be delayed, for at least three hours. Ironically, check-in was pretty quick, leaving us with around four hours to kill. Through a combination of shopping, grazing, sleeping and playing illegal ball games, we eventually found ourselves ready to board. The explanation for the delay was at least a satisfying one: gale-force cross winds at had caused a diversion to Nottingham East Midlands, while we were sweating in 28 degrees Celsius in Spain. The one benefit of the delay was that a film was shown on the return flight – the magnificent Scooby Doo 2, which was, I’m sure, enjoyed by all…or at least some. Our landing was understandably bumpy, and the icy blast of in October caused us to reflect on how lucky we were in sunny Spain. The journey back was on a cramped, leaky coach, and we arrived in with rain lashing down and thunder rumbling in the distance – what a difference a day makes.

On behalf of all involved in the trip, I would like to thank all of the teachers involved, Messrs Hicking, Palin, Rayfield and Robinson, in addition to Mrs. Douglas and Mrs. Hicking. However, the greatest thanks must go to Mr. Douglas, our gallant conductor, motivator, MC and commander-in-chief. Without his efforts the tour would not have been what it was. When the Romans invaded Andalusia, they left villas and forums; the Moors built the Alhambra; we left behind a legacy of good music making and good times – we had fulfilled our goal to entertain and be entertained. For some, this would be their final music tour; for others, it was a case of roll on 2006, when the next unsuspecting region will face the music and musicians of Nottingham High School.