Post-concert, Post-party, Last of 2010 (aaagh!)

So.

I promised a post-concert update and then decided that I might as well wait ‘til after the Christmas party, which is why I’m writing now and not three days ago. I am slightly sluggish of brain this morning (no, not due to excess alcohol) – that first sentence took me about five minutes to construct, two and a half minutes per letter, oh dear – and I suspect that this will be a very s...l...o...w process. But here’s hoping I have something to send you before the day is out for I have so much still to do in the way of present purchasing and tree sourcing and food buying and mince-pie making and cake baking and, most important of all, hair-do appointment attending (your faded-looking blogetteer is badly in need of beautification (as far as humanly possible anyway)), that if I fail I fear you may have to wait until New Year to hear about the aforementioned festive activities. Which already have that hazy, misty halo of something lovely too quickly forgotten. Which means this blog is probably not going to enlighten you very much. Which inevitably means deep disappointment. Which means I don’t deserve the present I received last night in recognition of my status as official Rudsambee Bloggetteer. Which was most unexpected, by the way. Which.

We, as I think I mentioned last blog, had to face the disappointment of a cancelled Rosslyn Chapel concert and much wasted hard work, the St Giles effort being so much shorter and so many well-rehearsed songs having to be put to one side, but we stormed into our one and only Christmas concert this year (yes, only one instead of the usual four – how bad is that?) all guns blazing and managed to get at least ten enthusiastic people lurching to their feet at the end (Quite an achievement when you think about it because if I had guns blazing at me I’d be diving for the floor). Jenny was counting the stander-uppers – loudly – and luckily there was significant applause or those still attached to their seats may have felt obliged to leave them, her manner of comment verging on the petulant, and one only wants genuine plaudits after all.

We were joined by our former holy-high-one, Helen, who had managed to escape the hurly-burly horrors of London Town for the weekend and came to sing with us. She didn’t know all the songs but seemed to manage to sing them anyway. Another pesky, show-offy sight-reader. The world seems to be full of them. I was delighted to be able to sing all the way through O Morgenstern without making a fool of myself by squeaking on the high notes – all that happened was the said notes were a little slow in coming out but when they appeared they did so smoothly and joined those already being sung by the other altos without making a spectacle of either themselves or me. There were the usual sticky moments though we all seem to have identified different ones which suggests that the concert was a mess which it wasn’t. Several people think the new African piece was the most malicious tripper-upper but my own personal nemesis for some reason was Dormi Jesu which I actually know off-by-heart but which seemed to go out-of-control for a few bars at one point and, as usual, I felt like it was all my fault though it may not have been. No idea what happened there but something nasty did. I’m not sure many people noticed. I hope not.

Tricky old (new) Jajang went very well, I think. I daresay we were all terrified and concentrating really hard. The faces may well have been a picture – I would like to have been watching – but as long as the sound was OK and the grimaces not too distracting... Our Natalie was actually sitting in the audience having decided not to sing as she’d missed so many rehearsals but she was no good as a commentator on appearance as she listened to the whole thing with her eyes closed. No doubt a sensible move. Many illusions could be undone by the untimely twitching of an eye-lid.

St Giles was warm and welcoming as usual (We would have had the welcome but not the warmth at Rosslyn. It is quite nice not to have to try and sing with chattering teeth and violent shivers to interfere with voice production). It was also pleasantly full - even more so than usual - which seemed to take our newbies by surprise. We may be a small choir but we do manage to get a large audience whenever we ‘do’ St Giles – I remember being quite overcome by the sight of so many people my first time there but they are a friendly, appreciative lot and not at all scary. Elaine and Alison were both there, as well a throng of other ex-Rudsambeeites – lovely to see them – and Elaine joined us for the post-concert feeding session at Vittoria’s so we had a chance to catch up a little with her life –after-Rudsambee. And we sang The Irish Blessing at her. She wasn’t allowed to escape it. She may have imagined that she was safe in a public place. Ha! Wrong.

Onto last night’s party which was woefully badly attended due to colds (man-flu, I mean), over-indulgence at lunch-time office Christmas parties and... exams (Exams??? – Should that ever prevent partying? Ever? I have an uncomfortable feeling we have let someone conscientious into the Rudsambeee ranks). Those of us who made it made it in style. Christopher wore a suit. You may think you need to visit an optician but no. A SUIT. With long trousers and everything. Even a tie. He looked remarkably smart. And very nearly grown-up. Behm wore a tie too. So did John. His had hieroglyphics on. Anne and Jenny sported their ball-gowns. I was sure that our rapidly shrinking Jen would be tumbling out of her dress this year but she assured me that certain parts of her anatomy are a large as ever and would keep everything in place. She was right, I’m glad to say.



Food, as always, excellent. Highlight for me – and not a few others – was Behm’s corn bread which was really cake but which we ate as a savoury (which may be how you’re supposed to do it – it worked anyway) – it was delicious. I think it should become a staple of our pot-luck parties. For as long as we have his company, anyway. John’s mulled wine was, as ever, very, very good indeed and a great time was had by all.

There was a great deal of conversation. I know there was. And much of it very amusing. I remember being rude about the tenors. More than once. I remember unsuitable-for-the-dinner-table subject matter but have no recollection of details. I do remember discussing nappies and the ecological impact thereof, potty-training and the dietry idiosyncrasies of an underweight mother with Kay. Perhaps anybody who reads this and regards this section as very poorly executed – which it most certainly is – could fill it out a bit with those all important particulars I seem to have forgotten, as usual. Not, I reiterate, due to the ravages of excess alcohol but because I only ever remember things these days if I make a special effort to do so and I wasn’t on duty last night - even if I should have been in order to earn my Christmas present; for which many thanks and I really do not deserve it.

Jenny is the buyer and distributor of pressies and did her job with her usual kind words and charm. I do hope she bought herself something as a thank-you present for a job well done. I was overcome to receive another gift – this time for the CD cover design – even more undeserved than the one for Chief Blogetteer. What a lucky woman I am. What a lovely choir Rudsambee is and what fun it has been to keep you (lot) informed about its goings-on.

So – that’s it for this year. Happy Christmas every one.

Here’s to a stellar 2011 (gulp!) xx

xx

Oh Woe and Lack-a-day!

or – The Unveiling of the True Disposition and Intentions of the Erstwhile Angel
Jenny Fardell

Never was Blogetteer so deceived! You may remember my lyrical appreciation of the aforementioned Rudsambeeite in last week’s blog. She had the grace to e-mail her thanks for my kindness but having done so used the same communication to admit – and I quote:

...Had you left your drink within my reach I would have glugged it down pretending I hadn’t realised. And I wouldn’t have been sorry... not one jot...

(I even counted the number of ellipseses so you can be sure I have allowed you an entirely veracious glimpse into her dubious and disappointing character).

Now I have opened your eyes, as mine have been opened so cruelly, we move onto the second disappointment of the week: our concert at Rosslyn Chapel, long-awaited because for years we have been unable to get access to the place due to building work, has been summarily cancelled because of the weather and the subsequent safety issues. As the temperature inside has registered as low as -10 recently it has to be said that the decision to cancel is probably a fair one but this means we will have only one chance to show off all our hard Christmas-music training (hard music/hard work, both) which is a little gutting to say the least. (The likelihood is that our trip to Cranshaws will have to be called off too as the roads are impassable I believe, and thaw or no thaw, are unlikely to be much better by next weekend. I think we’re due more of the white icy stuff on Monday, too, which cannot be said to bode well for a venture into the Borders).

As a result of this (and the difficulty of negotiating the pavements and by-ways of Edinburgh) numbers were rather down at Wednesday’s rehearsal. Anne was stuck out in Balerno, Douglas in Biggar, Harriet in France. Yes, France and not of the ‘Little’ variety either. Real, true, militant, over-the-water France. Other missing persons were, presumably, tucked up safe and warm at home and who can blame them with the temperature dropping and the ice underfoot? We were rehearsing at Priestfield again in order to be at concert-readiness but there was considerably less to get through as the programme for St Giles is so much shorter than for Rosslyn. We had an added Alto as Sebastian had brought a friend along (sorry, missed her name – how hopeless am I? I don’t think I’ve ever been able to remember the name of a visiting stranger... perhaps if they were normal rather than strange... – Chris usually helps out by inserting the correct information [Heike was her name] before posting the blog. What would I do without him?). The lady in question is obviously a good sight-reader as she seemed to be singing along quite happily to most things. I am always enormously impressed by this sort of confidence and would like to have it. As well as the ability to retain information concerning people’s identity.

We sang through most of the material for Sunday’s concert, changed a couple of programmed items, improved quite a bit. Copies of the new CD were handed out, some of the Rosslyn ticket money refunded. Then it was back out into the slippery stuff and slippery it was indeed and so, on the way home, over I slipped! No damage to anything but my dignity – if ever I am to land on my bum you can be sure I will do it when there are lots of people about to witness the occurrence.
This was going to be a short pre-blog. It is a little longer than intended. Lucky you.

More after the concert: Sunday 12th, St Giles Cathedral, 6pm. Be there. Get a CD.



[p.s. Our humble blogstress is being overly humble as usual. The aforementioned CD, a flea in the ear features a cover designed by her fair self. Words, music and scribbles? How overtalented she is!]

Brrrrr!

OK now, so enough’s enough, don’t you think? Very pretty and all that (actually, my garden’s gone beyond pretty, being just one huge mound of undisturbed snow with a twig or two poking out to remind me what is supposed to be out there) but now I’d like it to stop, thank you.

We were slightly down on numbers last night, as you may imagine, but all the altos made it – including Natalie1, returned from her lengthy travels – so we were in the majority for once and the sopranos looked very feeble. (Notice I don’t say ‘sounded’ - too libellous for words!) Anne managed to struggle in from Balerno although, as far as I can make out, she had to leave at dawn in order to arrive on time and was planning to bunker down with the Wexlers for the night rather than attempting to return home. That’s dedication beyond the call of duty for you but we can always rely on Anne for that as well as for being the best tuning-fork around. (Add to this the fact that she is willing to make litres of mulled apple juice for the warming of the multitudes at our Rosslyn concert and you will see that she is thoroughly indispensable).

John had the liquor cabinet open in an extremely generous and welcoming manner and was doling out snifters of whisky and sloe gin. I got a glass of the gin but unfortunately had to ask for it as he managed to miss me out whilst playing host/barman in a jolly ‘man the barricades’ blitz-y – but obviously rather haphazard - sort of fashion. Never one to hold back where alcohol is concerned I demanded attention (I did say ‘please’, honest) and am very glad I did as the sloe gin was delicious and just what was required post slippy-slidey walk in the very, very cold.

This general consuming of warming beverages led to the first amusing incident of the evening; one, I think, most people missed which is a shame because it illustrated beautifully the friendly spirit of the choir and the generosity of one member in particular: our Jen arrived a little late and, collecting a wee dram (if you can have a wee dram of sloe gin) on her way through the room, came to sit beside me. She was too late to hear me admitting that I’d picked up the wrong little black file on my way out of the house and so had none of the music I needed for the rehearsal but in time to hear me say, “Don’t worry, I’ll just share with Jenny, I’m sure she won’t mind.” What did the dear girl do but thrust her glass of the yummy stuff under my nose, quite happy for me to take a slug of her drink no questions asked or remonstrations made. I think I gave her a bit of an old-fashioned look; certainly I was a bit puzzled to begin with - but once I’d cottoned on (the length of time it took indicative of the fact that the same munificent gesture would never have occurred to me), I explained the situation and, naturally, we both dissolved into the first giggles of the evening. You may remember that last week I suggested we should endeavour to keep Mrs Fardell away from intoxicating liquids. Luckily she behaved much better this week and I may be able to rethink that recommendation. And how can anyone condemn such a friend to temperance?

Eventually – with much prompting from Anne who had it very much in mind that concerts are looming (she seemed to be the only one) – we were called to order by our lord and master and got down to work. This week we worked on Lullay and Ther is No Rose, Run, Toboggan, Run (oh dear), Deck the Hall, Nyathi Onyuol and Sleep. The girls had a little time later on to sing O Morganstern and Trees of the Field as well for the sake of those amongst us who have never sung them before and find them tricky. Funny how with half the people we get twice the work done...

Lullay is going to be lovely with gorgeous solos from Kay and Marie-Claire.
Ther is No Rose will no doubt be fine too though we were lacking our full compliment of double-trios and so just sang it all together.
Run, Toboggan, Run was a bit of a disaster until Ollie split us up and left the women to the tender mercies of Anne who is a task-master and a half and wouldn’t rest until the altos were singing in tune. I have to admit it sounds much better when we do. With a bit of tweaking and work on expression it ended up sounding a thousand times better. Let’s hope we don’t forget what got tweaked and why.
Deck the Hall is a laugh and a half. Remembering that there is only one hall proves to be a bit of a problem. Someone (a soprano) always puts an ‘s’ on and it is never the same person (soprano) twice. This one is guaranteed to make people smile. I think.
Nyathi Onyuol is getting there at last. I don’t know the words to this yet and really must make an effort to learn them as without the words the rhythm goes and thus befalls disaster.
Onto Sleep. And Eric Whitacre (yum). Susan had been busy handing out copies of this-and-that all evening (there’s always someone without something and usually several without lots). “Does anyone need Sleep?” she asked, all innocence, to cries of “Yes, I do” and “Can’t remember the last time I had any!" Much hilarity ensued (and Christopher gesturing at me to make sure I didn’t forget to remember to tell you). Once we’d settled we worked hard on this; so much so that I thought my voice (MY VOICE) might run off again. The sopranos got rather concerned on reaching the end that they were getting it wrong and so we concentrated on their problem for a while, poor Kay having to sing a very high section over and over again to make sure she’d got it right. It sounded fine – lovely, actually. It was only when I pointed out that Jenny and I had been singing entirely the wrong thing during these few bars (not looking at our music, as usual – complacent, or what?) that they realised they’d been right all along. Oops! And tee-hee. And sorry, Kay; hope there have been no ill-effects.

Once the singing was done some discussion took place as to whether or not the old people would need their carols on Sunday. The general opinion was not. They’d be mad to try and get out and about in this weather. Hips! Aaagh! Also someone - Chris or Kay? - asked if we had contingency plans in case Rosslyn had to be cancelled. We didn’t but now we do. A decision will be made on Thursday 9th and if we can’t go ahead as planned we will try to inform, directly, as many people as possible on Friday and a notice will be posted on the web-site as well. But it’ll be a bit of a, um, pain, won’t it? All go outside and breathe heavily and let’s see if we can melt the snow.

Now I have done my best to stay as up-beat as possible while writing this but I went out shopping today and bought a very nice shirt for my husband and then LOST IT. I went back to all the shops I’d been in and made enquiries but, nothing; so someone out there has got a very nice shirt for no money at all and I’m out of pocket when I had nothing in the pocket to start with. Grrrr. It’s time to go off and be grumpy for a couple of hours.

Christmas?

Humbug!