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Return To The Promised Land

A Review By Roger Johnson

The spirit of Chief Inspector Morse somehow permeated the weekend of the 12th and 13th July 2003. On the Saturday I attended the National Film Theatre in London, where my old chum Colin Dexter was presenting the annual Sherlock Awards. (It was my very pleasant responsibility to accept the Special Sherlock on behalf of Leslie Klinger for his annotated edition of The Hound of the Baskervilles.)

Colin was not able to attend the meeting of the Inspector Morse Society the following day (Ed. Being at the Harrogate Crime Festival). It would have been nice to have him along, particularly as it was the first of the Society’s functions that my wife Jean and I were able to attend, and Jean and Colin are great friends. However, the main purpose of the event, apart from simply getting together over a good meal with fellow-enthusiasts, was to meet that admirable composer and musician Barrington Pheloung, whose music contributed so much to the success of the Inspector Morse series on television — both his own compositions and his inspired selections from Mozart, Wagner, Puccini and a whole string of the greats.

Barrington Pheloung in full flow at the Return to the Promised Land meeting

Antony Richards happens to know (Ed. It did take some research) the couple who run a restaurant called Platypus Creek, just outside the pleasant village — or small town — of Earls Colne in Essex, and, as the name suggests, the place has a distinct antipodean flavour. Barrington Pheloung, of course, is Australian by birth, so one of Britain’s few Aussie restaurants was clearly the ideal place to meet him. Moreover, Barrington actually lives in Essex, only about twenty-five miles from Earls Colne. The signs were propitious.

Can you tell what it is yet? – another volunteer
(Ed. My Dad) having a go with the didgeridoo

The weather was ideal for lunch and the company was, needless to say, charming. It was a particular pleasure for Jean and me to meet Antony again after what must have been quite a few months, and to enjoy a chat with our good friend Philip Attwell. And of course we were very pleased to meet various fellow-members for the first time. The meal was good — at least mine was; Jean was not impressed with her jumbuck, but my kangaroo steak was delicious, and most people seemed satisfied with their food. We were joined at our table by Barrington Pheloung’s sister-in-law, which was an additional pleasure.

Over coffee and (for those who were not driving) liqueurs, Barrington told us something about his work on the films — how he found it more practical to conduct and record new performances of the great works than to rely on existing recordings; why Mozart dominates the television series rather than Wagner (unlike Colin Dexter, Barrington Pheloung is not a Wagner enthusiast, believing that Mozart towers above all other composers); his passion for crossword puzzles, shared, of course, with Colin; his regret that the glorious soprano voice of Janis Kelly is not more widely appreciated . . .

It was nice for me to be able to pass on greetings from a former neighbour of Barrington’s (and former colleague of mine) now living in Cornwall.

The meeting concluded, in what I suspect is typical Inspector Morse Society style, with a rather strange competition (Ed. We have had stranger). Anyone who cared to do so was invited to try to play that quintessentially Australian instrument the didgeridoo. Some of those who tried may eventually master the technique of circular breathing, but I doubt I ever shall. None the less, I was judged to have produced the most nearly musical sound from the long wooden tube and was presented with a little handbook on the instrument. It was a very satisfactory end to a most enjoyable meeting, and should I ever be reduced to busking with a didgeridoo, I shall at least be able to claim that I was a pupil of the great Barrington Pheloung!