Changing the Wexler feng shui

Well, I arrived last night (after M&S had run out of sandwiches - don't get me started!) to find Helen sitting in a tenor seat. Now, anyone who knows the Rudsambee-lets will inevitably have discerned three undeniable truths:
1) We always have long discussions about correct pronunciation,
2) We always have at least one moment of hilarity per night (generally when Jenny has done something silly)
3) We always sit in exactly the same seats chez Wexler with the Sopranos on the comfy sofa (so we can lounge about), the Altos near the window (to catch the breeze - make of that what you will), the Tenors next to Maestro Boy (for emergency notes) and the Basses next to the door (not sure why they should be there - quick getaway in case it all goes horribly wrong?). This latter point of order never changes. Yet last night, we (wait for it...) moved round. Goodness whatever next? This now places the Sopranos near Maestro Boy and on the hard stools... you can see his plan?

And so, as usual, a visitor arrived just as the Rudsambee-lets were doing some ridiculous dancing, rhythm sequence while reciting girl's names quickly. Poor Kathryn (Rachel's friend) was, however, not put off and joined in gamely.

If the hard stools were the stick then Maestro boy's carrot came in the form of a box of Roses. Mrs W made the hazardous mistake of choosing a caramel only moments before Maestro Boy asked us to sing Sfogava. Monteverdi and a mouth full of sweetie is an interesting if challenging combo. This piece is coming along quite nicely now. The ladies headed next door with Anne for a while (to use the pia-pia-piano) to note bash. She made (inadvertently I believe, though nothing gets past this blogstress) the statement of the night: there is a line that reads, "Mentre cosi splendete" and Anne asked us for a "Men with good tone". Sopranos and Altos like good toned men (I'm sorry, I came over all 'Carry On' there for a moment. Apologies.).

We also bashed through our lady and gentlemen pieces. The ladies, as mentioned last week, are singing a jolly number about a swinging girl by Tormis. It has unanimously been voted (by me) as our favourite Tormis piece so far. And it is even starting to sound good - already, like, a month before the concert. Shock horror!

The gentlemen were introduced to their piece last night. Sebastian had brought this number along (Editor can add song name as I wasn't paying attention but was too busy eating a bag of Skips which provided my dinner last night due to M&S failing in their duty to provide a delicious pre-rehearsal piece - blimey, there's a Scottish word for you - my Englishness is gradually diminishing, I'll be eating fried things soon. Every night!). Apparently this song is in German and Russian. Or a Russian song in German. Or something like that. The ladies enjoyed listening to this with Maestro Boy struggling along (he had been next door with the ladies working on the Tormis so had to sight-sing it... sight-singing in performance, btw, is not unheard of for Rudsambee-lets but is something we try to avoid for fear of ever-increasing blood pressure), Anne singing a jolly descant (not in the original sadly) and Sebastian giving a proper, old-school performance - trust me, if he had had evening dress and a white scarf nonchalantly draped around his shoulders, he would have looked like a 1920s cabaret star. He should definitely do it like that at St Giles. They'd be dancing in the aisles! (A little bit of poetry for you at the end of this paragraph - didn't even realise until I read it back... the creativity of the Institute must be entering my brain through osmosis - not that sort of Institute btw, the Humanities Institute where I currently sit in studious busyness)

And so another night has been and gone, and St Giles approaches (not literally, last time I checked it remained firmly grounded opposite the Council Chambers) with breathtaking speed. It's going to be fun folks so put it in your diary.

Have a marvellous week one and all.

CSW