Concert Weekend

I am sitting here all ready to head off for John and Susan’s for my lift to Rosslyn.  At the moment clad simply in two layers (tights and jeans, vest and jumper) I have prepared a bag containing many items of clothing in which to present myself as Michelin Man(ly woman) later on, in the chapel.  I have another vest (thermal), leggings, my regulation black trousers, of course (will have to ditch the jeans though I’d keep them on underneath if I could), two cardigans, gloves and two shawls - though I am the second shawl in case someone else needs another layer rather than to sport them both myself.  They can be tricky little b*****s to deal with and I can’t imagine what sort of tangle I’d end up in if I attempted to manage two at once.

There is still snow on the ground but we have been assured we can reach our venue; reassuring emails have been sent to choir and audience... now we just have to wait and see which members of the latter group are brave and hardy enough to come and listen to us tonight.

12:03 am – home again.  Really quite a reasonably sized audience.  There had been some concern about ticket sales but no need to exercise ourselves about as it turns out.  While not a sell-out in the straining-at-the-seams level which has been the Rosslyn Chapel experience in former times, the place is small enough to look full even when it isn’t and certainly there appeared to be very few vacant seats.   I think the concert went well, though it has to be admitted that there were some raggedy moments and some dodgy, winter-affected voices from time to time.  Some pieces went better than expected and some not so well as they might but this is pretty much the way of live performances everywhere so let’s not be too hard on us!  St Giles tomorrow and a chance to get right that which went a bit pear-shaped and to improve on the things that were close to completely gorgeous.

It was delightful to welcome Helen back into the Rudsambee fold – however temporarily - and well done to her for managing to sing everything even when she’d never sung at least half of it before in her life.  Not something your blogetteer could do in a month of Sundays.  A very small and select group, which included Helen and the BW, gave us a marvellous rendition of Veni, Veni, Emmanuel – sounded glorious in the chapel and it was really lovely to be able to sit and listen for a change.  Anne played her harp for a few pieces and Sebastian played his cello along with her for Nu Tandas and they did a beautiful job.  Thank you, you two.  Fabby.

So, one more concert this year, our Christmas party on Wednesday and then we head into 2012 with some big questions over the future direction of Rudsambee but with a determination on the part of not a few members to move onwards (possibly not upwards but, at the very least, on a steady path) into something new.  This should be exciting.  Let’s be excited.

Please.

Thank you.

I was less of a Michelin Man than anticipated tonight thanks to a new heating system in the chapel.  Not that it was particularly warm; just not perishing.  I left off the thermal vest and the two cardigans (and the extra shawl), but I did wear my leggings beneath my trousers, on top of my tights.  I didn’t take thick socks.  I couldn’t, anyway, have got thick socks into my shoes but stone floors and thin shoes are a bad combination and my (not so tiny) feet were frozen.  Solid.  Ice-blocks.  Horrid.  I sat and warmed them in front of a cosy fire in the pub after the concert but they still feel dampish, even now.  Bed with a hot-water bottle, I think, if I am to be thawed out for tomorrow’s performance.

And more of that once we’ve done it.  Night-night.

And now we have.  And it went very well indeed.  A lo-o-ong rehearsal beforehand; so long that the long-suffering cathedral tea-ladies were getting agitated at our non-appearance.  However, it was worth it for the added confidence gained and, some of last night’s problems addressed, we headed into this concert with much more aplomb.  St Giles is such a lovely place to sing and we always get a huge and appreciative audience... I don’t think we disappointed them.  Tonight we had Tamsin on harp and Anne on piano with Sebastian doing a beautiful job on his cello for Nu Tandas, we sang Seal Lullaby with Anne (and a toy seal) on piano and Tamsin played her harp for Riu, Riu Chiu, with Nikos (much recovered from the op but still a little stuffy of nose, btw) shaking tambourine and Heather banging a drum somewhere in the background.

Great fun.

During the rehearsal an Icelandic friend of Ollie’s (does he know someone of every possible nationality????) came to listen to us singing Immanuel Oss I Natt so that he could give us some hints as to correct pronunciation.  A little late in the day you might think – as did we – but, luckily for us, he was extremely impressed with our efforts and only had about four changes to make.  We pretty much managed to remember them though it isn’t easy to change the way you’ve been singing something for years in a matter of minutes.   I believe there were some Swedish people in the rehearsal audience who offered to help with Nu Tandas and, indeed, I think they did give soloists Rachael and Marie Claire some hints as they both sang some words with unfamiliar pronunciation so well done to them and I hope the Swedes were as happy as our man from Iceland.

Poor Heather was feeling awful, as was Chris.  Kirsty has been feeling very under-the-weather, too and suffering from lack of voice but she is off to Canada on Wednesday to spend Christmas with her daughter and was looking much brighter tonight, no doubt buoyed by that prospect.  Anne had almost completely lost her voice but Ollie persuaded her to join us and sing what she could and mime where she couldn’t and I was very glad indeed to have her by my side to help me with the little alto solo (duet) in Amuworu.  I really had very little idea what I was doing due to lack of practise and lord alone knows what would have happened if I’d been left to myself.  (It’s only two bars and about four notes but the timing’s awkward and it really needs belting out which is difficult if you have no confidence in what you’re doing).  Tamsin was hacking and coughing away but managed to sing her solo line in Steal Away as beautifully as usual, so - very well done to all our brave little soldiers.  Marvellous.

Well, more after the party if I can remember anything.  Sorry if this is a bit boring but we’ve been very serious recently what with having to try and sing things properly for people willing to pay good money to hear us do so.  Next concert, February.

 And after that... who knows???

Turn me back for one minute and...

I’ve been in Munich visiting the old man.  When I left Edinburgh on Friday morning the weather was really quite good.  I had a pleasant walk down to Waverley Bridge – no coat, just a jumper; clear skies and only a little chill in the air.  I spend a couple of days away in a city which is quite often perishingly cold at this time of year but which was also rather clement this weekend and I return to FREEZING air and what looks alarmingly like the remains of SNOW on the ground.   What the...?

Not good.  This is not at all what I want.  I would like the white stuff to stay away until after Christmas and Hogmanay so that I can go and do all the things I’ve arranged to do without interruption, thank you.   And, also, we had to cancel our Rosslyn Chapel concert last year and really don’t want to be doing the same thing again this.  Ticket sales are looking a little dodgy, apparently, which is hardly surprising as our many fans are by now accustomed to missing out on hearing us warbling in this venue, so many years have passed since last we were able to do so.  If you are reading this and know anyone who might like to come and swell our audience numbers please encourage them to apply for a ticket or two.  Merci.

If that request is to bear any fruit at all I had better get on with this epistle so that it can be made available to you as soon as possible.

Wednesday – so long ago – Ollie was away so had asked Arno to step into his (rather small) shoes which he did admirably and with very little sign of squished toes.  We worked very hard and got quite a lot done considering we were sans Lord and Master. 

At one point John got very narky about our habit of talking between songs having, he said, missed some important part of a discussion some people were having about something important.  He was really very impressive; quite like a schoolmaster.  Cowed all us gossipers good an’ proper.For a minute or two at least.

Whether or not we are all entirely happy with everything we will be singing at the weekend, I can’t say.  Somehow the preparations for these concerts seems to have been a little rushed and we are missing personnel to an alarming degree in the soprano section, especially as I think Tamsin is unable to sing with us on Saturday.  Nikos was off to have an operation on his throat/nose??? So is unlikely, I imagine, to be recovered enough to sing and Kirsty was decidedly croaky and snuffly on Wednesday – there’s bound to be at least one choir member struggling with a cold on Saturday evening.  Still, if anything can be said for Rudsambee members it is that they come up trumps at concert time no matter what adversity they may be suffering, so no doubt all will be well in the long run.  We are to have some extra rehearsal time this week and I for one will be having a glance through my folder to identify those awkward moments on which I wish to work.  And I know there are words I need to look at –  foreign ones I don’t know well enough to look confidently at Ollie whilst singing.

Does that last sentence make sense?  Ach, well.  Nevermind, eh?

I had a moan on Wednesday as Ollie had left me (and a few others) off the quartet list I was having a moan about last week.  Bit previous that first moan but I do like to make my feelings clear well in advance.  Anyway, the L&M sent round an email to say that he’d overlooked the presence of a third verse that needed to be quarteted so now I DO have a part to sing as do other previously left-outers.  Yey!!  It’s not the same verse I sang last time so I will need to learn even more words but I’m not complaining –

she says hastily.

Lacking time and inspiration. Apologies. More later in the week.

Kisses.

Coughs and Splutters

Poor old us.  So much of the above going on.  And Nikos had to leave early (having arrived late) because he was feeling so bad.  Hasn’t been well for a while, actually, so it was good to see he is still alive and kicking, albeit rather feebly.  And skinnily.  Very baggy about the jean-bottom, I noticed.  Daresay I shouldn’t have been looking...

Anne sat in a chair all evening nursing a cold.  Jenny sat in a chair half the evening doodling on a pad of graph paper probably pinched from her son, Connor, who was with us again (though sensibly hiding in the other room) and tomorrow she’ll moan at him for not having done his Maths homework.  This is mere speculation, of course.  The paper could have come from anywhere.  It might even have been her own.  She did have a pile of paper with her tonight and, while some of it (unusually) had music on, quite possibly there was other stuff mixed in with it – certainly she didn’t appear to be possessed of anything much we were singing.  How she gets by I’ll never know – and she always ends up (almost) knowing everything by heart, too.  Perhaps she sleeps with it all under her pillow and absorbs it at night.  That could well be where her music is when she’s supposed to have it at rehearsals.  And concerts.

People seemed to have been very prompt tonight.  Unlike me.  And Arno and Kirsty and the aforementioned Nikos.  Oh, yes, and Heather, too.  We all sloped in a little late (particularly the a-mN) once the others were well away with….something.  Immanuel oss I nat’, that was it.  Icelandic.  Sung many times before by more of us than you would have believed had you heard our efforts this evening.  I arrived just as the inevitable discussions regarding pronunciation were beginning.  Something like a consensus was reached but what they agreed upon bore little resemblance, as per, to what I have got written down.  

These blogs get rather repetitive, don’t they?  You could probably write them yourself, Dear Readers.  (Note, optimistic, positive frame of mind.  Good, eh?)

Having ‘Feng-kin air’-ed and ‘kreesto didli’-ed until it all sounded OK(ish) we moved on to Jajang – much improved; also Nyathi Onyuol and intensive bashing of the tenor section.  Ol knocked them into some sort of shape – boy! they’ll be black and blue tomorrow.  Mostly with this one it’s the words... they cause problems.  And the rhythms.  And sometimes the notes.  Or the lack of them.  There’s one place where the men’s notes are not notes i.e. they have those little crosses instead to indicate speech and John was concerned that not everyone was, indeed, speaking (“ting ma pek” being the delightful wordage at this point).  The Boy Wonder, apparently, cares not a jot about this, thinking the effect of half-and-half (half right, half wrong) works a treat.  In truth I think he is concerned that, were he to impose a new way of performing this bit on the wrong ’uns, the correct rhythm, so eagerly sought and so welcome once found, might disappear again and be lost forever.  Ol is very fond of finding us familiar words with which to ‘replace’ unfamiliar ones and the tenors got well into the spirit of this with something about a car, a car window and then a Nintendo car window... I hope this helps them.  I’m looking at my copy and can’t see anywhere where this particular sequence of words would be of any use whatsoever...

We had more of this while working on Hey, hey, Lelija! but it made more sense.  Our Lord and Master turned to the ladies and demanded, “Say ‘end’.”  We did.  “Say ‘me’.”  Again, obedient as ever, we did as bid.  “Say me-end.”  As before.  “Me-en-dzeh.”  Done.  One word sorted.  “Say Vienna... shvienna... shvienn... shviennchay” etc etc with an ‘f’ added here and there where no ‘f’ should be and Bob’s yer uncle.  Nearly there.

Turning to Amuworu – more tenor bashing.  Robin was beginning to look quite cross-eyed while Chris just looked cross.  Jenny, it appeared, was ready for bed such a yawn she let out unhindered by any embarrassment whatsoever. 

We had a look at Ecce Novum Gaudium and practised singing it with a little delicacy instead of belting it out full throttle as we are wont to do.  We are to have Tamsin playing her harp in her lively Tamsin way for this one and Mrs Fardell pointed out that we needed a drum, too.  “You wanna do that, then?” enquired the L&M.  So now Jen will be drumming - imagine!  If she doesn’t have the full rock-band set up, centre stage and mic-ed up I’ll eat... a cake with gluten in it.  Which I no longer do if I can help it, btw.  Ol pondered quartets for this one.  We had them before.  We must have done because I have an orange line underneath verse 2 and do not find verses 3 and 4 at all familiar word-wise.  Anne agreed; she had sung a quarteted verse in the past, “But let someone else do it this time,” says she, “it’s time us oldies gave the young ones a chance.”  “Speak for yourself,” said Susan.  “Am I an ‘oldie’?” I asked, “If so, I’m with Susan on this one.”  Which I am.  I haven’t noticed a lack of opportunity for the ‘young ones’ to show off.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  And this song requires no particular vocal virtuosity and so is ideal for someone like me who has none.

STOP PRESS…..

UNPRECEDENTED SUCCESS FOR THE TENORS OF RUDSAMBEE

......STOP PRESS

We re-visited that tricksy-dicksy little Tavener piece Rocking – all skipping about between sharps and flats and clashy, clashy chords.  And... the tenors got it right!!!!!!!  First time.  Well, almost.  And the ‘almost’ was only one nasty little Bb (or maybe # (or, possibly, natural)).  It seems that the harder something is to learn, the easier it is to remember.  Maybe concentration is the key?????

The altos and basses got their turn at a battering when we started trying to put The Lamb to bed.  Wretched creature just wouldn’t settle down.  We were getting there – eventually – but need, says Ol, to work on it at home.  The trouble is that at home it is easy…on my own I always get it right.  But once those clashy, clashy chords (Tavener again) get going so does my confidence and hitting the correct note straight off becomes slightly (!) less of a breeze.  I’d like to think I’m not the only one with this problem and that we had to go over and over and over it because other people were finding it tricky too.

The sopranos got off very lightly, but there were only two of them last night and they had to work bloody hard anyway.

It is Thursday morning.  10:04 to be precise and I have finished my blog.  I started it last night!!!!  I deserve a STOP PRESS and some bold lettering, too.  Go me.  If only it could always be like this...

­­

Bushed Blogetteer

Such a full-on weekend and now I’m so tired I’m sitting here doing this instead of attending my Pilates class.  I usually have to have a very good excuse or a very bad illness to do that so you see what burning the candle at both ends (and melting it a little in the middle) does to someone of my advanced years... probably dancing for several hours in ridiculously high heels on Saturday night was less of a good idea than it seemed at the time, too.

On top of all that a delivery arrived at work today on two palettes; 30 boxes, 28 of which weighed 17kgs apiece, all of which were left outside the shop on the pavement - as is the way with things transported atop wooded platforms – and all of which I had to carry inside and pile up in any space I could find where the danger of them toppling onto our customers was not too great.  It transpired later that we had had exactly twice the number of things we’d requested delivered by mistake.  I thought there was a lot.  I could have left half of it where it was and waited for it to be collected but... I didn’t know that until I got it inside, did I?

But, hey! If I were less tired and more inclined to Pilate I would fail (yet again) to Blog so my exhaustion is your silver-lining... she writes, to no one.  One silver-lining going spare, then.

We are singing Christmas songs.  There is not much time left.  It is a little scary, especially as there seem to be quite a few people away.  Just as well most of what we are singing is not new.  This does not necessarily mean it is easy, however.  We spent a lot of time on Nyathi Onyuol on Wednesday and I am not sure quite how we managed to sing it last year as everyone who did seemed to have precious little idea of how it should sound.  I remember it as having been rather scary.  I said this just as we all thought we’d finished with it for the evening, prompting the Boy Wonder to demand we sang it again as a measure against panic and all the other choir members to moan at me for my big mouth.  Anyway, I am much more sure of what I’m supposed to be singing now so I think it was worth it.

We had Ollie’s Polish teacher, Izabella, (did I get that right?) [you did now!] to coach us in singing Hej, hej, Lelija! and, my oh my, did we need coaching.  The BW had done a pretty good job but there were several words that we’d not got right at all.  It took ages to go through it all and, although Isabella (did I get that right?) was pretty happy with us in the long run and seemed to think that Polish folk would understand what we are singing, I’m not sure any of us feel that confident about it.  The song needs the Polish words, though, because – a little like The Swallow and the Bells, if you remember from last year’s blog - the English ones are a disaster.  Unfortunately, English speaking mouths are not made to pronounce Polish sounding words.  A lovely girl, that Izabella-did-I-get-it-right?  I think she might even have joined in a bit of the singing as I suggested she should.  She used to sing in a choir, she told me, and then got her confidence knocked by a perfectionist musician boyfriend.  I know the feeling and it is one to be ignored.

My friend, Kirsty, latest Rudsambee recruit, came here on Saturday morning to go over some of the words and music, having such a lot to learn in such a very short time and imagining that I could help!!   It was very good for me, too, actually.  I realised just how careless it is easy to become (especially about pronunciation) and also that I knew what I was doing in places where I would probably have said that I didn’t.  Very illuminating and I hope we’ll repeat the exercise as it will obviously benefit me as well as her.

And make me feel very good and very smug.

Adieu.

 

Poetry Library #1

I am writing this the day before our next concert so will probably hold off sending it to the troll postman until I’ve added a report on how we get on at the Scottish Poetry Library tomorrow evening.  As we are going out for a farewell-to-Natalie meal/drinkies straight afterwards we will have to hope that I am in a fit state to type something comprehensible at some point on Sunday.

You may have noticed that I failed to blog last week.  I’m not sure why.  I think it was lack of enthusiasm brought on by the realisation that all my ‘jokes’ about my sole reader are more true than I would like to have believed.  Hardly anyone ever looks at this, you know.  And it takes me ages.  Rustle up some friends and get them to, at the very least, look us up and then I will feel more like making the effort in future.

Wednesday, then and a new alto in the familiar shape of my friend, Kirsty, who is joining us until Christmas and may stay after that depending on the situation regarding numbers.  Somehow, even sans such notables as Harriet, Anna Lauren Luke and Nicos, the room felt very full on Wednesday evening.  And Kirsty is only very small so it can’t have been due to her presence.  Oh and how could I forget????  Mrs Fardell was absent too due to sick child (sick whilst at school and fine once home; that sort of creature, known and loved by parents the world over).  That is a lot of missing persons and yet... the room seemed very full.  Are we all beginning to gain the extra winter pounds already?  Perhaps it was just that the chairs were distributed in an unfamiliar manner.  Quite enough to confuse and overwhelm your poor blogetteer’s aging brain cells.

We sang through most of the stuff for tomorrow’s concert; Kirsty manfully (well, she IS an alto) sight-reading lots of things she may never sing again (if she’s lucky).  Tamsin was playing Anne’s harp in accompaniment to several of the Scottish pieces and my!  Once she had (nearly) mastered the tuning – Anne tunes the Scottish way and Tamsin doesn’t so it took her a while to get her head around what should be where – she played like one possessed.  Never have any of us seen this gentle and elegant instrument played with such vigour and pizzazz.  I now understand Anne’s reluctance to play when we have a Tamsin to do it instead.  The girl’s a genius.  I think I will almost enjoy singing the Gaelic songs now.  Tamsin will have her own harp tomorrow so the quick key changes should be smoother and lord alone knows what she will be playing once she’s had a chance to look at the pieces properly.  Hold onto your hats.  It’s all really rather exciting!

Ollie has given new members permission not to join in our old Gaelic set – four songs sung in a row which a fair few of us have been singing on and off for ages and have done by heart in the past.  He reckons there are enough of us to do them justice without giving people the headache of learning the tricksy wordage.  Both Marie Claire and Heather have opted to join us regardless.  Mad.  Why?  I have given my music to Heather so that she can copy down my attempts at nothing-at-all-like phonetic renditions of said tricksiness but whether or not she will be able to make head or tail of it, I don’t know.  Whenever I look at other people’s efforts I find myself completely foxed, with no idea at all what is expected of me pronunciation-wise.  It will be interesting – and possibly extremely amusing - to listen in to Heather’s chirruping tomorrow.

There will be no harp during Fog Elna Khel (shame) so Tamsin has taken over the lofty waily bit at the end previously sung by Harriet and A-L.  She also has to lift her voice to the heavens in Steal Away – once again all alone.  I imagine she will be delighted to have Miss Helen Miles to give some support at Christmas concert time,  (Saturday 10^th December, Roslin Chapel and Sunday 11^th St Giles Cathedral, btw), though it has to be said that she seems to be managing very well on her own.  One of these pesky talented people that Rudsambee will keep on turning up. 

Heather is now our administrator and, in an extraordinary display of efficiency, brought along to the rehearsal a pile of printed Google maps to help us all reach the Poetry Library tomorrow.  What this says about her opinion of Rudsambee intelligence I’m not sure but I took a map because I could and I punched holes in it and put it in the front of my folder.  No way I’m getting lost now.  Yey.

That’ll do for now, I think.  I have to get ready for my daughter’s first event night – A Night in the 1940s – I’m going as a land girl.  I was going to make a pinny and construct a cigarette with a bit of ash hanging perilously off the end and go as the cleaner so I could prod people with a mop and wipe up spills with a grimace but sadly I have failed to prepare myself for this.  I shall have to try again for the 60s – or, indeed, the 50s, 70s, 80s.  Whatever.  I could wear a tabard once we get to the 70s.  Always enjoyed a tabard.

Perhaps I’ll get this sent off.  It will make a nonsense of my first paragraph but – hey.  What’s new?  More on Sunday.  Maybe.

I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.

Water, water everywhere

We did have fun with the aitch-two-oh this week. Quite who was responsible for the first spillage I can’t say but someone got wet – Heather? – as did the table and a fair bit of floor carpet (where else does one have carpet, by the way? Have often wondered. Answers on a postcard, please). I’ll wager Mrs Fardell was the culprit. Susan, Heather and Jenny all set-to to clear up the mess amidst great merriment. I have even less idea of what occurred as people were preparing to leave at the end of the evening because, as usual, I had my back to the action but it involved the same suspect – I mean, suspects. Susan was transporting a glass of water kitchenwards when someone (Mrs F perhaps?) knocked her about a bit (I think) and, yet again, the wet stuff hit the floor. Even greater hilarity ensued – and it appears that everyone except me had their eyes on the action because everyone except moi was laughing fit to burst. Did ever a blogetteer feel so incompetent? (Yes, every week. Every single week). After the first incident Susan was heard to say, “At least it wasn’t the glass of wine I threw over Dick Grindley a few days ago,” (hard to see how it could have been that particular glass of wine, it being soaked into Mr Dick’s trousers...) – red wine, of course, had to be, didn’t it? – which began a conversation about getting red wine out of whatever it’s been spilled on and the choice of cleansing method the Grindley’s may have resorted to; sucking it out was Jen’s suggestion, grubby girl. You may be wondering what was happening on the singing front while all this was going on... not much, as far as the sops and altos were concerned, obviously. The boys may have been practising something or other but I don’t think so.

All in all it was rather a laid back but extremely productive rehearsal. We were really very short of men – only two of each flavour - and there were a couple of sops missing, too (but here we had the pleasure of the company - and voice - of Rachael’s sister, Abbie, to make up for one of them at least) – so we started nothing new but revisited a fair number of last year’s Christmas pieces: Nyathi Onyuol, Jajang, Amuworo, Hey, Hey, Lily (aka Hej, Hej Lelija; Polish – in which shiny language we will be singing it this year), Immanuel oss I natt, Nu Tandas and Det hev ei rose sprunge. Not bad for an evening’s work, eh? Quite some time was spent on the Polish pronunciation with which our extraordinarily erudite and versatile Lord and Master is now very familiar, having become pretty much fluent in French and so moved on to the languages of Eastern Europe. Now, I know how a good deal of it works having read a book once which had bits of Polish in it and a helpful little page of tips on how various letters/combinations of letters should be pronounced so when Ol said, “How do you think the l with a line through it should sound?” I could answer ‘w’ and cz, ‘tch’ and sz, ‘sh’ etc (these are the easy ones) but this was of no help at all when it came to putting the words to the music – in spite of the fact that I was perfectly familiar with the music already. Oh, the strugglings of an ancient brain. And an ancient brain struggling with the onset of a cold-in-the-head, too. And, yet again, the absence of spectacles (except for the spilling of water tee hee)/bad light combination which flaws me every week. You’d think I’d learn.

But you see how hard it is.

At the end of the evening Heather announced that she had had a request for a sea-shanty singing choir to perform at a wedding in June and asked would we be at all interested? The short answer appeared to be ‘no’. The rather longer one was to do with where we would be singing, when, would anyone be listening or would we be singing against chat and the tinkling of glass (really, really hard work and no fun at all), would we have time to learn sea-shanty-type things to sing (Jenny was well away, jigging and climbing the rigging – she was the only one who looked at all keen but her enthusiasm could have made up for the rest of us, no problem) and other such concerns. Heather looked somewhat crushed at what was, to be sure, an astonishingly negative reaction but, as it is her job now to pass on these requests, she should beware of taking personally adverse responses of this nature. There’s no telling what will catch the imagination of Rudsambeeites and if she becomes too selective we might miss the opportunity to warble somewhere really silly in the future.

Alors, mes leetle cabbages, I have done. Hubby is home – has been here since last Saturday – and, what with one thing and another, I’ve hardly seen him so I shall go and make him some luncheon. See you next week.

Hello, Goodbye.

(Actually the other way round but that’s not a song title

(As far as I know))

OK, I’m sorry my optimism was so misplaced the week before last but I don’t suppose you were fooled for a minute, were you?

And haven’t I just been a busy little bee today?  Mostly, it has to be confessed, doing things I should have done yesterday and couldn’t be bothered to, but these ‘things’ involved housework of various complexions and, really, can you blame me for procrastinating?   It has been like Downton Abbey round here, too, let me tell you.  My vacuum cleaner is broken or on strike or something – no suction at all – so this-morning I was to be witnessed on hands and knees cleaning the stair carpet with a dustpan and brush and then attacking the sitting-room carpet (BIG room, BIG carpet) with my sweeping brush, stirring up more dust than I was removing.  Which reminds me... dusting.  Forgot. Still to be done.  Darn.  Wouldn’t last long at the Abbey, would I?  On the streets I’d be, quick sharp and, to be honest, at my age I wouldn’t have much luck there, either.

Just as well it’s 2011 and I am who I am.  Even if I’d rather be dressing like Lady Mary.  (I don’t even watch the programme and I know all about it.  Is this what they term ‘osmosis’?)

To Wednesday evening and not before time you will say.  But I do like a chat.

It was all very relaxed.  Susan was away and so there was no one there to chivvy us into singing.  Firstly we had a chat (which I do like) and then Ollie talked us through the programme for the Poetry Library which at first glance made me feel as if we should warn away people who are inclined to snore when napping – HOWEVER.... after studying it more closely I noticed items such as Desh and Fog Elna Khel on the menu and there’s nothing dull about them.  Also we did a fair bit of work on one of the Gaelic pieces I was struggling with and now it sounds really quite jolly and I am becoming less inclined to moan about it – which will be a great relief to all.   After that we talked about starting Christmas music next week and only doing a little more work on the SPL concert pieces a bit nearer the time of the performance.

We spent quite some time practising O Lux Beatissima, a new piece but very easy and rather lovely, which we will be singing at both the above mentioned and the Christmas concerts.  There were a few people who’d not set eyes on it before but, as I mentioned in a recent blog, even I managed to sight-read this straight off so it presented no problems for other more able choristers.  We sang Grabmedoodlewhoosits but without Robin’s solo as he has hurt his back and was unable to move let alone come along to sing.  (Hope it is better soon, Robin.  Kisses.  Eurch – he won’t like that!)  Douglas, who used always to sing this solo but who will not be singing with us at the Poetry Library – why not?  Don’t ask me – filled in for R (very nicely, as ever) and we worked on getting some colour into the accompanying parts.  It became quite like a rainbow.  Ahhh. 

Ae Fond Kiss: no Helen for the solo, so Kay – being the only true soprano Scot – was volunteered for the job, which she accepted somewhat reluctantly.  Helen, btw, was not the least bit Scottish.  Just thought I’d mention it.

We headed through to the piano room – that does sound grand, doesn’t it?  Really it is the dining room with a piano in it.  Some might find that quite grand, too, if without a dining-room or a piano.  Why we went through I forget but once there I know we practised Amazing Grace. Only, however, after lengthy discussion and decision-making.  This piece, as sung by us, was arranged by former – and, indeed, founder – Rudsambee leader, Sheena Phillips, who I am quite sure was feeling particularly wicked on the day she did it.  It is not hard to sing as long as you can avoid the jazzy bits in verses three and four (which, being incompetent, I can); if you can’t avoid them, well... good luck - but it’s quite a challenge to work out who’s supposed to be doing what where and it took the Lord and Master a fair bit of time to get through to his (rather slow) minions just what the complicated requirements are.  Add to that the fact that we were rather short of sopranos and as well as the jazzy bit, split two ways, there is a descant somewhere or other and, voila! a recipe for confusion and disaster if ever I heard one.  I think (only think, mind you) that I know what I’m supposed to be doing and when I’m supposed to be doing it and that is all I care about.  So there.

And speaking of being short of sopranos, we are soon going to be rather short of altos, too.  Anne is having to take a break from singing to rest her vocal cords and Natalie announced on Wednesday that she will be leaving the choir after the Poetry Library concert.  She has left before and returned and may well do so again once she has finished her studies but her going now will leave us in a bad case for Christmas music, especially if Anne is still unable to warble with us by then.  As you know, Harriet is not going to be around for Christmas either, though I believe that Helen is going to join us – but that still leaves us one sop short as Anna Lauren won’t be returning just yet awhile.  I feel some recruitment coming on [yep!]... but I felt that before not long ago and nothing happened.  Ollie announced that we would be singing quite simple music at the Christmas concerts as there will not be enough of us to sing pieces with lots of splits in them.  A great shame but – what can you do?  There’s quite a lot we didn’t get to do last year because of cancelled performances so we’ll be revisiting what of that is suitable and I’m sure the programme will be lovely whatever happens.

So, having contemplated an imminent farewell we were contemplating a coffee when who should appear at the door of the piano/dining room but the afore-mentioned AL complete with well wrapped baby Evangeline.  What a gorgeous little creature, to be sure.  She was very taken with Luke and very patient with the huge, cooing faces that surrounded her.  The baby behaved well, too.  I felt obliged to warn Anna Lauren that we had to sing Happy Birthday to Arno and AL said it was fine because Evangeline likes music.  This is all very well but Rudsambee singing Happy Birthday could never be regarded as music.  Perhaps Arno got away with a slightly less ear-piercing rendition of the song thanks to baby-awareness because Evangeline did not cry.  Of course this could simply mean that she is tone deaf but I’m sure not.  Not with Anna Lauren for a mother.  I did try to persuade AL to return to us before Christmas but I had no luck there.  She is going to take her time and I am sure this is the right thing to do.  (But pretty please, AL???????)

Sorting out my music file so that I have the concert stuff in good order I was somewhat puzzled by several missing pieces, Desh and Fog Elna Khel and Contre qui, Rose for example.  Where could they be, I asked myself?  What have I done with them?  I then remembered the phantom music thief of the Ensign Ewart.  Those pieces was nicked, guvnor.  Note to Christopher: Please, Sir, can I have some more?

Must dash.

Blogetteer in a bad mood (But not any more)

Thursday.

What a day.  How confusing it all was.  I lay awake in the early hours listening to the wind howling and the rain making like Miss Earnshaw at the window, thinking how unlikely it was that I’d be trotting into town later, only to find, on getting up, that the sun was shining in a clear blue sky.  I trundled off, delighted, to make my breakfast and lo! the kitchen went dark, Cathy came home again and the wind raged once more.  By the time I’d finished eating, sunshine.  After my shower, rain.  And so on and so on and so... I spent the day dodging precipitation and puddles. 

Well, was I out of sorts, or what, last night????  Don’t ask me why... a few people did (so I wasn’t hiding it then?) and I had no proper answer.  Feeling under the weather for a day or two; a bit tired... so what?  Hardly the first time I’ve felt like that and I’m rarely quite so grumpy.  Thank God for Rudsambee, then – it didn’t take long for my mood to lighten (yes, really.  You might not believe me, my dear choir cohort, but my mood did, indeed, lighten quite considerably, thank you) and I even ended up laughing.  Imagine!

The BW was very late – getting some music sorted was his excuse – so we started without him.  How keen is that?  We began with something I’d never seen before though several people seemed to know it off by heart.  Or to think they know it off by heart.  It’s a little ditty called El Grillo [Josquin des Prez] – The Cricket (Jimini, leg-scratchy type not bat-and-ball and silly-mid-off).  Easy.  Really.  Nothing to worry about except that I couldn’t sing it – even though most of it is on one note.  Such was my mood – and not in any way improved by the struggle to get a hand(le) on the jumpy one.

Saturday.

Our new music was Christmassy stuff – not carols but things suitable.  We began with a third version of that old Rudsambee favourite O Magnum Mysterium.  This one by Poulenc.  Gorgeous but definitely fiddly.  We had a go at a Tavener piece called O, Do Not Move – best to put the consonants in properly, as Jenny pointed out – O, Do Not Moo does not have the same... well, no – wait a minute... cows in the stable and all that.  Moo would be fine, after all.  It is very short and only the Bass 1s and Sop 2s have anything much to do but it is lovely.  We will probably sing this as a companion piece to Rocking which we sang last year.  We sang something called Ballet’s Lullaby – by whom???  Any offers?  And who, may I enquire, is Ballet?  Or is it a case of what?  In which circumstance I know the answer having been a ballerina for many years.  Yeh, right.  You should have seen my sturdy little legs in pink ballet tights – but I always had lovely arms and a good ‘line’.  Kay has gone back to ballet lessons which makes me quite jealous so I suggested that she and I might do a little exhibition dance during the singing of this number.  Jenny got very excited.  Yes, Jen – just as if.  Well, I cannot speak for Kay, who wasn’t there, but I can safely say for myself, again – just as if. 

This song caused a little controversy.  Jenny Fardell had very decided views as to how it should be sung, in direct opposition to my own ideas, I may say – there were a few un-tied quavers which looked as if they should have been tied and certainly the words suggested that tying them would be best but, oh no – Mrs F was quite sure they should be separate thus making important words like ‘Jesus’ take second place to ‘hath’.  I don’t know – it’s beyond me.  Ollie agreed with HER, unfortunately.  Bloody typical.  (!!)  And even more confusing than the weather.  Final new piece: As Dew in April by David Wulstan.   All went well to begin with and there seemed to be a fair consensus that this was a song worth singing but suddenly all changed and I wasn’t sure why exact... we got to the end and Ollie said “Yes, well, we’ll see about that one” and it took me rather by surprise.  Yes, well, I suppose we’ll see...

New pieces over we had a sing through some of the songs for the Poetry Library.  Yes.  The G_A_E_L_I_C songs.   You can imagine what that did for my mood.  We started one of them and sang it through and then repeated it, as directed and then repeated it AGAIN at which point I found myself hitting my head on the table.  There were people who thought I was doing it because I couldn’t sing it properly.  The truth is that I was doing it because I couldn’t  face the third repetition.   Three times through?  Really?

Aaaaagh!

As you can see this has taken a day or two.  I’ve been hitting the tennis court (and the high street) instead of the keyboard so, enough now and off to Mr Scott, the Post-man.

Am going to Sussex again next Thursday so you may or may not hear from me next weekend.  Oh, let’s be optimistic, shall we?

See you next week, then.

Or the one after.

Welcome to the World, Baby Girl

Miss Evangeline Sara Packer has made a tardy but welcome entrance into Edinburgh society. Photographs have appeared in the Rudsambee Weekly and it is clear that this beautiful young lady will do nothing but enhance our social calendar for many years to come. She will be presented to members at some point in the not-too-distant future (or so your blogetteer presumes) but, until then, I am sure you will join me in extending the warmest of welcomes to the lovely debutante and the most heart-felt congratulations to her proud parents, AnnaLauren and Tim.

And extend also, please, crossed fingers that they get some sleep. Lots of sleep. (My husband used to watch Blackadder with our first, in the early hours when I was almost demented with tiredness and she was being demanding, and it worked a treat; she calmed down, he was amused, I got to sleep. For ten minutes. Before feeding time AGAIN).

On to Wednesday. Fifteen or so of us this week; not bad but there are quite a few scheduled to be off next week, too, so it’s just as well that our next concert is not going to be too demanding. Except that Ollie has added two new (to most of us) Gaelic songs into the programme. Somehow – beyond all the other languages that we sing – I find the Gaelic the most impossible to learn. Why is that? It’s not that I can’t say the words (though it’s best not to look at them as written if you wish to stay sane) but... well, but what? Why? Wherefore? No idea. Suffice it to say that as soon as a Gaelic piece is handed out (not very often, I am delighted to say) my heart takes an icy bath and my brain goes into flight mode. You can take that as meaning that it runs away as fast as it can or that it shuts down. Either is appropriate. It may be because, when I first joined the choir, I had to contend with a Gaelic set which everyone but me knew (and off by heart, too) and I had to learn it (and off by heart, too) very quickly and got myself into a right old tizzy about it (unnecessarily, of course). Perhaps I never recovered from this initial experience. Or it may be because I have an extreme aversion to these pieces – again, why? Absolutely no good reason for that. I actually quite like listening to them, sung well. And I love good old, jiggy Scottish music; makes me want to dance in a very lively and potentially life-threatening fashion. So – why, why, why. And why again. (Are you beginning to sense that, yet again, I don’t have much to say for myself? Funny, that).

Jenny and the other very old (!) [shall we say, Experienced?] members of Rudsambee were well acquainted with these two pieces. Jenny was given the job of telling the rest of us how to pronounce the words. She did very well, on the whole, but pronunciation lessons never run smoothly in Rudsambee rehearsals and there were some contentious moments. Everyone always knows best and when you’ve got three different versions of one word coming at you from three different corners of the room, writing down an indecipherable transliteration (OK, so maybe that’s not exactly the right word but Gaelic might as well be written in a different alphabet for all the sense those letter combinations make); writing phony phonetics down really, really badly becomes inevitable. And I have never yet had the experience of someone speaking sl-o-w-ly when doing this job. Each one rabbits on so fast that I couldn’t even write down English words that quickly let alone peculiar personal versions of unfamiliar ones. Anyway, the tunes are easy so no doubt all will be well. Eventually.

I’ve said that before. Often.

We also started work on a new Eric Whitaker piece (yum). It is called The Seal Lullaby, words by Mr Kipling – he of the poetry, of course, not the pies. It is very pretty and, unusually for us, will have a piano accompaniment so we can’t sing it in the Scottish Poetry Library (no piano) which is a shame as it is quite straightforward – I mean that ‘quite’. There are some tricksy little places which messed up what promised to be another reasonable attempt at sight-reading from yours truly. And it’s the sort of tricksiness that is not so evident when singing one part at a time but becomes appallingly obvious once any other part is added in. Sing the awkward alto bars with only other altos and – what’s the fuss about? Add in a soprano or two, some tenors and the growlers... mayhem. In my mind, anyway. But it IS only a few bars of confusion. AWBW. E.

Ollie wasn’t feeling very good – he hasn’t been feeling brilliant for a while, now, (wish him better and, like Peter Pan and the fairies, I’m sure your wishes will do the trick) so we didn’t have a long rehearsal. I think it was quite productive, though. Certainly it was enjoyable.

Afterwards we sang a belated Happy Birthday to both Heather and Susan. Very belated in Susan’s case as she was away last week when the day of the rehearsal was the actual day of her birthday. Heather’s had only been the day before.
Then, speaking of birthdays, Jenny suggested that I should be forced, I mean encouraged, to recite the poem wot I wrote for Kay’s party. Now, I just happened to have a copy of said poem with me (!) to give to Kay – something I meant to do at her party but didn’t (just as well as I have had time since to review and re-write the bits that needed serious attention) and so, in great embarrassment, I was prevailed upon to entertain my fellow Rudsambeeites with my magnum opus, A Wolf’s Tale (bad title but I haven’t thought of anything better yet). I made them laugh and I was delighted with the reception my efforts received. Gee, shucks, Guys. Thanks. There was a request made that I put the pome on the blog and, indeed, I may do so at some point, but now I have to go and pack for a visit down south (won’t be here next week btw) so such an event will have to be postponed, I’m afraid and you will have to await the literary event of the year in eager anticipation.

xxx

Another small one. Short, too.

Of what or of whom am I speaking?

Well, it’s not hard to guess, is it? Not our Boy Wonder, though he is quite little. Not any choir member at all, though some of them are really tiny.
No, no. Wednesday’s rehearsal is my subject matter of course and, once again, we were a select group and, once again, it wasn’t worth doing much in the way of learning new material. It must surely be time for things to get back to normal now, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Where is everybody????

Anne has lost her voice – careless but easily done – and she won’t be back for quite a while as she finds it impossible, she says, to attend rehearsals and not join in. Fair enough. I think lots of other people were caught up with work and I suppose this can’t be helped. Kay was at a parent-teacher meeting and came along late but by the time she got there we’d just about finished so we serenaded her with a new piece we’d learned (so quickly and I sight-read it all very happily, too; could it be extremely easy, by any chance?) and I think she got a chance to sing through something but she might as well have gone straight home from the school for all the practice she got, poor thing. Still, she had in-laws baby-sitting so it would have been daft to miss the opportunity for tea and biscuits, no?

We began by singing Sang and then put it aside for later. We sang Grabmediddlywhoosits, too – bit of work required on the Gaelic pronunciation but Robin’s solo sounds lovely. Then we tried the new piece and, as we didn’t get copies to bring home, I will have to leave it to Christopher to inform you what it is called and by whom it was penned as I cannot remember at all [it's called O Lux Beatissima]. I do remember it being something of a doddle to sight-read with a fair amount of accuracy (I am not claiming perfection, not by any means) and that it is in Latin and is suitable for Christmas. See, I took in quite a lot, really.

Once we’d finished with that one the BW announced that he was off to make a cup of tea and that he was leaving us to do some work on Sang – make it interesting, he ordered as he disappeared. Well, we tried, really we did. There was a considerable period of silence broken, eventually, by a giggle or two and then Mrs F got all sensible (?? I know!) and made a suggestion. Off we went then, everyone had something to say. Only trouble was no one seemed to have the same thing to say. One wanted to crescendo at exactly the place someone else thought a decrescendo would be nice. Someone wanted to speed up when others thought a rit. would fit the bill; loud/soft, fast/slow, start/stop. Lordy! We did have a go at verse one and it sounded not bad at all but then the discussion about ways and means reopened and we never got any further so that when Ol returned we were still talking round in circles – and round. And around and back again. He soon sorted us out. We played around with just the first word for a while and some very sudden changes in volume in the first couple of bars and voila! Far more interesting already. We are inclined to become a bit lazy with older pieces and this sort of tweaking works wonders.

So, there you are. Bit dull but I have things to get on with so that’ll have to do you. Laters!

It is Friday night...

... and this is all I am going to write.

Until tomorrow.

Tomorrow 11.04am

So, a little late again but with GOOD excuses. The younger sproglette had another wee job for STV – a Christmas craft session for the website! – and we had to work flat out to get everything ready for the recording yesterday. Usually I am furious when I see Christmas decorations out in the shops before Halloween but this last week I have been equally angry that no one local seems to have got their Christmas act together yet. And it’s the second week of September, for heaven’s sake – WHERE ARE THE BAUBLES??? She only got the ‘spend money’ go ahead on Monday and, believe you me, preparing for these things takes hours and hours so hours and hours is what we had to spend over the next few days whenever possible, leaving me precious little time for anything else. So hopefully in a month or two there will be a Christmas Crafts with Bella McDonald section on the STV website and if you want a few hints on how to keep the kids occupied with decoration-making (classy stuff!?) that will be the place to go.

Back to Wednesday evening, then and apart from a rather teeny soprano section and an Anne with hardly any voice we were pretty much back up to a group that closely resembled Rudsambee. It was a fairly relaxed evening. Ollie spent the first fifteen minutes or so collating music and handing it around and then we had a look at a couple of old pieces which we will be singing at the Scottish Poetry Library in November – obviously they want some poetical things and some Scottish things and preferably, of course, Scottishly poetical things so we revisited old stalwarts such as Sang and a Gaelic piece the name of which I can’t remember and if I could I wouldn’t be able to spell [but which most people know as the Eriskay Love Lilt]. Ae Fond Kiss was handed out also but we didn’t sing that one this week. Now, I do hate to admit this (well, I don’t really, it appears, as I admit it all the time and bore people to distraction with my opinion) but I find most of these Scottish songs really tedious to sing. They are very pretty and lovely to listen to, I’m sure, but they are not exciting to perform. As Ollie was handing out one or other of them he started to say ‘Now, this song is really...’ – madness to hesitate at this point - ‘...boring’ I supplied. People laughed. Ollie seemed not to have heard. Oh, but he had. ‘I heard that,’ he said. To Jenny. Had I got away with it? No, no. ‘It wasn’t me, it was her!’ exclaimed snitchy, clypey Mrs F. So I poked her in the ribs. She must be a glorious subject to tickle. One gentle prod and she was reduced to a jelly of hysterical giggles and splutterings which, it seemed, would never be brought under control. The temptation to re-administer a subtle jab or two whenever she began to calm down was so great you can hardly imagine the self-control I had to exert for the rest of the evening.

We sang Sang and we sangGrabh Whooseydiddlewot and then we went through to the piano room to have a go at a third Michael Tippet Negro spiritual By and By (and, by-the-by, Harry-you-know-who-you-are, if you’re reading this, I neber hab my thdongue im my tsheek whem I’m writdhin). By and By is much jollier than the other two and therefore caused me a problem or ten in the sight-reading dept. However, I am delighted to say that it was not me this time but Jenny Fardell who protested about the speed at which we were supposed to be singing entirely unfamiliar music. Yey! I didn’t have to feel like a complete numpty all alone. Anne joined us with what she had of a voice as she didn’t feel she should be singing the higher notes of the alto 1 part and, actually, once she had set us on the right path, it wasn’t at all bad. Susan, on her own on soprano 2, had a very awkward bit of unexpectedly dotted note-age to sing but she managed very well indeed. The same cannot be said of the tenor 2s who have the same nastiness in their part but I think they were getting the hang of it by the time we moved on. Why I ever worry about making an idiot of myself when we have a tenor section I don’t know. (Love you, boysies).

We then went over Steal Away and Go Down, Moses. The first isn’t too difficult but I did catch Anne giving me an old-fashioned look at one point so I think I must have been on the wrong note – I don’t think it at all, I KNOW I was on the wrong note. We were singing “Ah-ha-ha-ha” at the time and I should have been singing an E to an F# but was probably on a C or something. Who knows? Well, Anne would know. Anne always knows. That’s why I was subjected to one of her OFLs. Quite scary they are, btw. Go Down, Moses isn’t too bad until the alto 2s have a little joiny-up bit here and there. Jen and I were going down too low. Once someone had pointed out that we were supposed to be singing the same thing as the basses (told you we were manly, you had no idea just how manly, had you?) it was a little easier. Ah, well! It was only week two on these things. All will be well...

...eventually.

Coffee time and Arno was telling us about a show he’d been to see at the weekend (in Holland? I think so) which was about the Dutch contribution to the resistance movement during WWII. It took place in a huge hangar (the play, not the Dutch resistance movement) and the audience sat on a moving platform so the action took place all around them and they were turned to watch it instead of the stage revolving. Clever stuff, eh? At the end an actual plane taxied in through the doors (bringing the queen home) and then someone (the queen? Perhaps not) jumped on a motorbike and sped away up the runway. Sounds great, doesn’t it? A spectacle and a half, I’d guess. I was in a play at Edinburgh Airport a few years ago but we didn’t get to use a plane. Or a motorbike. Tsk.

Better stop now and get meself dressed. It is not a very nice day and I don’t know what I’m going to do with it (hubby was supposed to be coming home but now cannot do so); however I suppose I should at least go and buy some comestibles. Morningside calls. Ooo, and I have two pairs of shoes to get re-heeled. Things are looking up.

Au revoir, mes petits choux.

Why did I bother?

Oh, dear me. I have just read over that last and most feeble of contributions. What a waste of time. Clearly not of effort. I can’t believe I submitted such rubbish for your perusal. Next time I am in a hurry I shall think twice about blogging. Or maybe I will save myself the effort and not think about it at all.

True, there really wasn’t much to write about last Wednesday – not once I’d done me usual and mislaid all memory of anecdotal material. We went, we made some nice noises, we left. It wasn’t dull though (unlike my blog); we chuckled a fair bit as usual (but about what, Claire, about what?) and Christopher prodded me once or twice with a pencil.

Now, I promised to write about Kay’s 40th birthday party. I say again, ‘40! Surely not.’ But, yes, dear reader, indeed - she has reached that great age without, it has to be said, much in the way of wear and tear to show for it but perhaps with some wisdom. (Perhaps. Not all of us who are considerably older are so blessed). Certainly in possession of a cracking sense of humour and a very sharp tongue, as I have often had occasion to mention. 40 isn’t all bad. In fact, it’s not at all bad. Life even looks quite rosy another decade on if I don’t wear my glasses to look in the mirror. Or expect to sport a bikini in public. (Damn. However, it may never have been a very good idea).

It was a great party. Lovely house. Lots of people. No children (what an excellent notion. Much as I love them. And all hail Kay’s mum and dad). Good nibbles. Copious amounts of alcohol. And a performance from those members of Rudsambee who managed to get there. There were 11 of us: Robin, upholding the virtuosity of the tenors alone, but with some sort of help from Jenny gallantly sight-reading at the foot of the stairs. (We sang in the hallway btw and a good place it was to warble, too). Arno and John, halfway up the stairs, represented the basses; Susan, Kay, Marie Claire and Heather, borrowed from the alto section, sang soprano by the front door and Anne, Natalie and I - with occasional interpolations from Jenny when she lost the tenor line – were the altos on the bottom step. (Well, I think Natalie was on the bottom step but I must be allowed a little poetic licence. For the flow, darlings, for the flow). All of the altos were in attendance. What does that tell you about altos?

We sang only four of the songs we’d rehearsed so as not to try the patience of our audience who, after all, had muchos drinking and talking to do. We started with Monateng Kapele, I think, followed by Akanamandla, (or it could have been the other way around – does it matter?? NO), then Island Spinning Song and, to finish, a grand rendition of Kay’s favourite, Son ar Chistr. Lost all Ollie’s refinements – or nearly all, we did manage some quieter bits and a crescendo or two – but we made a good sound for such a reduced number and my, did we have fun! Which was the point.

And our efforts were much appreciated. Which was great.

No time (or opportunity, rather) for the world premiere of my Meisterwerk, but – never mind, eh? It’ll mean I have something new for our next choir party-piece party. And I can spend a bit of time refining it. Of course this means I have no excuse if it’s rubbish.

Hmmm.

Jenny, Arno and I were the last to leave. Hope we didn’t outstay our welcome but it wasn’t THAT late. Jenny, who lives down the road from Kay had brought her car (?) and offered me, who lives on the other side of town, a lift home (??). I was most grateful (having shoes I don’t often wear rubbing holes in my feet), though somewhat nonplussed (not an unusual feeling when in Mrs Fardell’s company) and I accepted her offer with unattractive alacrity (some small protest but not enough to make her rethink). Arno lives nearish to me so Jen offered him a lift, too. He was more of a gentleman (no, really) and said he was quite happy to walk. Once he understood that Jenny was taking me almost past his door he realised he was not at all happy to walk. So off we went all three.

Good night.

Goodnight.

Here's the thing...

...am off to Germany to visit Husband any minute now so this will have to be speedy. I’ll give you something to be getting on with and then try and write more later in the week – report on Kay’s lovely party etc, when I have time to do it justice.

I was at work yesterday – most unusual for a Thursday – which is why I didn’t get this done, having left my ironing (another unusual occurrence) and packing until last minute, of course and having to do that last night as well as prepare pounds of plums and rhubarb for jam-making so I can keep it in the fridge while I’m away to stop it all from going mouldy. That is a terrible sentence but no time to change it now.

Wednesday. An improvement in numbers but still lots of people away doing other things – mostly work-related now, I think, rather than holiday. Nicos is back from his homeland at last – looking very healthy (Greek weather must be better than Scottish, I think) and it was lovely to see him and hear that – what was it?... captivating, that was the word, voice again. We have, of course, lost Anna-Lauren to waiting-for-baby. She is going to take a few months off – quite reasonably. We’ll miss her. And we learned that Harriet will not be with us for Christmas concerts as her brother is getting married in Australia – how thoughtless – and she will have to be there instead of with us. Quite some sacrifice, I’m sure you’ll agree. What we will do without both Harriet and AL I have no idea. I feel a bit of temporary recruitment coming on. Any offers?

The Lord and Master has found us some Negro spirituals, as arranged by Michael Tippet, to sing and lovely they are, too. We tried two on Weds – Steal Away and Go Down, Moses. Both have a German translation for some reason. I can’t remember having come across any German-speaking slaves in my extensive reading on the subject but maybe I missed something. We are not using the translation, you will be relieved to hear.

There – I must dash. Apologies for pathetic effort.Will do more on return (if I remember – no promises).

Have a good weekend.

And then there were 8

Why?

I’m about written out today. Kay has her 40th birthday party (40???) tomorrow and Kay wants entertainment (so entertainment she must have) and she asked me if I’d do a little ditty – ‘actressy-wise’ – for the delectation of those present. To begin with I interpreted this as, maybe, a request for a musical theatre number, which I would have presented (though possibly failing in the delectation department) but, having discovered that Kay does not have a piano – no accompaniment???? - I was delighted to realise that what she actually requires is a poem such as I performed once before at a choir party-piece party, not having the confidence to sing alone in any company other than my own. Now, the delight was soon tempered by the realisation that I’d already read my best poems – not having written any for years – and therefore had nothing new to offer SO….today I wrote a new one. A re-written fairy-tale which took quite some time and many drafts and still leaves quite a lot to be desired but anyway, you see why I feel drained of literary juice.

Anyhow – Wednesday. Hmm. Jenny felt moved to send round an e-mail bewailing the lack of choir commitment at the moment which, to be fair, IS somewhat wanting. Only eight of us turned up – not a good showing. Where were you all, Peeps? We thought maybe some who could not make it to Kay’s party had decided to give it a miss as we were practising songs to sing there but is this a good excuse? Not really. Considering that only five people had put their names in the absence diary there were quite a few unaccounted for. Shabby behaviour, guys. Some people, as Jen pointed out, have to pay baby-sitters and to do that and then turn up to an almost-not rehearsal is not fair, is it? And there were birthday cards to sign. If you got one with a pathetic eight (or seven, in one case) signatures out of a possible twenty-two, you might reasonably be a little disappointed, don’t you think?

We happy few, however, enjoyed ourselves; some of us revisiting rambunctious old songs (suitable for general, drunken jollity) and Heather, Marie Claire and Behm in the enviable position of having to sight-read Breton and Sotho and Swahili (or somesuch) and trying to make sense of a piece that starts with the men singing the two verses in an AABA pattern, continues with the men and the manly women singing the same thing over again and ends (eventually) with the sops joining in and all singing AA BB BB AA AA. Much concentration needed. And in French, too. Kay had been under the impression that she had chosen only easy songs. Ha!

Ollie left early to go and see a show – whether this was always his plan or whether he decided to go once he’d discovered just how poor the turn-out was going to be, I don’t know but soon after he’d gone Natalie went, too and so the rest of us put the kettle on (well, I put the kettle on – we might be limited but it really doesn’t take more than one choir member to do that) and those of us left had tea and biscuits. Jenny decided the biscuits left out for us were not good enough so went rummaging in what she convinced the rest of us is the Rudsambee biscuit drawer and found some alternative version of Jaffa Cakes (and yummy they are, too) as well as some heavily-dark-chocolate-coated buttery gorgeousnesses which we tucked into with enthusiasm and only a momentary concern that we were devouring the Wexlers’ personal supplies. And that was it. I wasn’t really concentrating on amusing incidents although I do remember Jenny dissolving into giggles at one point and I think it may have been my fault. And Marie Claire was telling stories of her newly scary job of doctoring but at that time I was busy with the kettle and missed most of it.

A strange tale to tell you, though. After our concert at St Giles on the 14th of this month we went, as I think I recounted last time, to the pub: The Ensign Ewart on the Royal Mile (up near the Castle). I left at the end of the evening only to have to return pretty quickly when I realised I’d left my folder of music behind. Jenny was still there but just leaving and she helped me to look for it but to no avail. Jen said that Susan had found an abandoned folder or two earlier and had taken them with her so I presumed mine was one of them and went home without it. I discovered that mine wasn’t among the ones Susan had picked up so I returned to the Ensign last Sunday to make enquiries. ‘I will check Lost Property,’ said the barman – which he did. He found my folder, hooray! but, quite bizarrely, it was empty, boo! Music gone. Why? Where is my music? Who’s got my music? And what for?

But thanks for leaving the folder.

Leonardo Takes Flight

Yes, indeedy. We did it. We sang THE song. In public. And mostly OK, too, though coming in to land was a bit bumpy. I suppose a small amount of turbulence was to be expected and a little wobble on a maiden flight is not to be wondered at. We did not crash and burn.

A good concert it was. St Giles was well attended – perhaps not quite such a large audience as at Christmas but pretty good all the same and much better than I expected when I peeked over the banisters a few minutes before we went on. At that point the numbers looked distinctly disappointing but there must have been a sudden surge in arrivals (cutting it fine, people) between my peeking and our entrance.

We had arranged to gather at the cathedral at around 3.30 in order to get practising by 4 o’clock. Most people arrived in a timely fashion and we were able to fold all the programmes and shift a row of chairs before the first few stragglers wandered in. The latest latecomers appeared after we’d begun the rehearsal; except, that is, for Tamsin who got caught at work (this seems monumentally unfair on a Sunday) and only turned up just in time to get changed for the concert. This tardiness had Kay in a bit of a spin in fear, as she was, of having to manage parts of Leonardo all on her lonesome.

Our rehearsal was witnessed, as usual in St Giles, by many of the touristic visitors who seem, each time, to imagine that a shambling, variously garbed group of stopping-and-starting singers amounts to a full-blown concert performance in Scotlandshire. They make themselves comfy in the seats directly in front of us and watch and listen while we warm-up, sing a few bars of this and a few bars of that and then a few more bars of something else over and over again. We did actually ‘sing’ Desh beginning to end which earned us enthusiastic applause. This is unusual in a practice situation but most welcome. Hearing Arno sing his solo in Fog Elna Khel in that amazing acoustic was quite extraordinary. Once Ollie had convinced him to sing out as loudly as he could it was rivettingly beautiful. I thought I saw Salman Rushdie in the ‘audience’ but I may well have been mistaken (if it wasn’t him he has a true doppleganger, though, which must have been uncomfortable for said double for a while some years ago, eh?) – I don’t see his name in the Book Festival programme so maybe my imagination was off on one. After we’d rehearsed for an hour or so Anne made her routine announcement inviting people to return for the actual performance and we trundled off to drink the tea and eat the biscuits kindly supplied by the cathedral ladies. The tea is not strong and my biscuit was a little on the soggy side but we are always hugely grateful for the ministrations of these ladies – I hope they stay to listen to us (and enjoy it too).
I had to hurry back upstairs (we have our break in the undercroft) to grab my bottle of water which I’d left behind and as I did so I noticed the arrival of another choir – they were making their way out of a side room all dressed in white t-shirts printed in red with the legend Something-or-Other Community Choir. My heart skipped a beat... had we got the wrong day? Were we, unbeknownst to us, sharing our concert with (gasp, panic) a community choir???? I hurried downstairs to make enquiries. No one else had seen them. Eventually Anne appeared. She had seen them. They were American and she presumed they had permission to sing there, which is what they were doing. We had a moment of wickedness – it has to be admitted. Their repertoire was, after all, not quite the thing. They were enthusiastic but, in all honesty, not likely to encourage people to hang around for long. Was this going to be allowed to impact upon our audience numbers? Certainly if the friends I thought may be coming to listen to Rudsambee for the first time turned up while this lot were singing they’d be likely to turn right round and make their escape while the going was good. Anne offered to go up and chase the Americans away at five thirty, giving us a clear half hour to accumulate an audience unaffected by hearing a... hm, less than perfect rendition of Panus Angelicus and other assorted only-sing-them-if-you-really-can numbers, which is what she did – very subtly by catching the conductor’s eye and then looking significantly at her watch (I believe she may even have tapped it). They finished as required and our audience arrived unmolested.

Sorry. That was not nice.

That pesky word has slipped in again – but I think it was necessary this time, don’t you?

So – the actual concert. As I’ve said already. It was good. It was fun. Everything went very well. Ollie’s face was full of pleasure and pride on several occasions, which is lovely to see. We were all grinning like idiots at the end of Fog, it having been gorgeous to listen to and to sing – not sure I can include Arno in that ‘all’ as he is too self-effacing to have taken such pleasure in his own performance. All the soloists were magnificent, actually: Rachael, Anna Lauren, Luke, Harriet, Chris, Arno, Robin, Sebastian, Kay (if I have forgotten to mention someone I apologise profusely) – great stuff, mes amies. And then there was Leonardo. A success, I think. The audience seemed to appreciate the complexity of it and, if they noticed the slight disintegration at the end (the tenors’ fault, said Jenny [what disintegration??]. They always speed up. They require brakes. Or maybe they should simply WATCH OLIVER), they didn’t hold back on the applause because of it. I know I went wrong at one point. I also know I wasn’t the only one to do so. But I really don’t think it was anything but a triumph – even if we sang it slightly better in rehearsal – the clashy chords and the beautiful ones sounded fantastic in that venue and now I think we’ll look forward to singing it again. Often, please, to make the months of work on it worth while. Thanks to Andrew for his drumming (he swapped jobs with Chris who took on the tambourine and did it well) – he didn’t get much chance to practise but no one would have known it.

I met up with a friend afterwards. She knows her music and she was full of praise. She particularly loved Contre Qui, Rose which I am not fond of and was happy to consider dropping from the programme (though it was never really an option). She said it was so beautiful that it moved her to tears. Perhaps I shall have to reconsider my attitude towards this one. All the feedback I got was really, really positive so I think I can claim that even if, as can happen, we didn’t always finish a song in the same key we started it in, we were brilliant!
There was no rehearsal last night as Ol is trying to finish his Masters portfolio (the things he thinks are important, I ask you!) [he's done now. No more student director!] so that’s all for now.

See ya.

“I feel like Jeremy Fisher..."

...thus spake our Jenny as we left John and Susan’s in the Wednesday night downpour (to distinguish it from the Monday downpour, the Tuesday downpour and the Wednesday daytime downpour) and she was not alone then or yesterday either – especially as I seem to have no shoes at all without holes in them. Today I am hoping for a break in the winter weather so I can go and buy some waterproof footwear (wellies?) – my computer just substituted an ‘i’ for the first ‘e’ in that last word! How rude – and an all-encompassing raincoat of some ugly description which will stop me getting wet from the knees down; though no doubt I will still get soaked from the knees up so maybe there’s no point wasting money on the latter item.
How disappointingly dreary and English I am being with all this talk of the inclement elements.

Music, ho!

We have a concert on Sunday. I daresay you know that as I mentioned it at least once last week. St Giles @ 6. Ditto. Do come if you are able. So Wednesday evening was all about deciding what to sing and how to sing it. We cut (with some difficulty and a fair amount of disgruntlement) two items from the list Ollie circulated last week (too many songs for our 40 minutes-at-most spot); Jaani Hobu went without much argument and then Down in the River (yey! Luke’s solo is lovely but I think it a very, very tedious piece of music). Several voices piped up in favour of keeping this last and dispensing with Envoi instead. Cries of outrage from the Envoi enthusiasts. I didn’t hold back on my views about Down in the River (surprised?) and am glad to say I wasn’t alone. Chris was all for getting shot of either Visur or On Hillisuvi (done to death), it was suggested Bog Off could go for the same reason but as that takes all of two seconds to sing it wouldn’t have made a material difference and it’s a great rousing start of a song, anyway. Someone even proposed we pass on Desh!!!! What? I think because the St Giles acoustic might be a little unfriendly to the middle section; this is true but the conclusion made was that the beginning and the end should sound good enough to excuse whatever happens in the middle (how’s that for sound, Rudsambee reasoning?) – and we can always slow it down. It was left to Kay to voice the notion that Leonardo might be left to dream of his Flying Machine in the dark and peaceful obscurity of our song-folders... nice try but it was never going to work, was it?

In the end the Boy Wonder (maybe he is getting past that appellation, don’t you think? Still boyish and all that but sadly we are too used to his genius to be struck with wonderment any longer), anyway as I was saying, the BW made a final decision. Gone is the liable-to-bolt steed and gone are the butterflies of Envoi (boo, hiss).

Now, as usual, time is ticking on (do you think it ever gets bored of its job?) and I am supposed to be meeting younger sprog for a spot of shoe/university-required-reading-book shopping (note well which comes first) but I am not showered or dressed yet so... I will return. I must try and get this done today as Postman Chris is very, very busy at the moment and it took him rather a long time to get my last effort published for your edification and delight [hmph] so if I am too tardy in my submission this week you may not receive this until well into next and it will look like my fault and I might find myself feeling obliged to apologise again which, under the circumstances described above, would be most unfair. Chris is around and about being photographer extraordinaire and is even, I believe (he will correct me if I’m wrong – or maybe not) official Book Festival snapper [yep] so after this weekend we may not see hide nor hair of him for quite some time (and losing sight of Christopher is not at all easy, as those of you who know him will testify [although someone once lost me in Sainsbury's because my hair was disguised by a clump of coriander]). I have pointed out that it would be easier if I knew how to post the blogs myself but then Chris would not be able to correct me or interfere with my ellipses and what fun would that be? [actually, it all harks back to the current blogstress's dicky internet I believe!]

Back again – not a pair of suitable shoes to be found that I would be willing to wear. I shall have to resign myself to soggy toes or paddle about barefoot. Anyway – on we go...

Wednesday; a dreich evening it was to say the absolute least. We all arrived rather damp and dishevelled. During the warm-up it became apparent, thanks to some twitching, whispering and surreptitious pointing in the alto section, that there was something amiss with Ollie’s feet. “He’s still wearing his dirty, wet shoes,” says Anne. This is against all choir protocol. But so is snitching. [Also worth mentioning perhaps that amidst this finger-pointing and shoe-decrying, Robin became mysteriously known as Roger.] It transpired that he had left them on because he had to go out to fetch someone from round the corner. First trip was unsuccessful so next time, Ol having removed the offending articles, Chris went instead, being the sort who wears easily donned flip-flops whatever the weather. Ollie did try to put them on over his socks (“Oh, you’re actually German,” said Sebastian) but it was quicker to send Chris. The object of the search was Andrew who is to play a tambourine for us during Leonardo. There also needs to be a drummer. Apparently the drummer needs to be found in the Alto 2 section. That’s Jenny and me. I can’t sing, breathe, watch Ol and beat a drum (in the right places, in the correct rhythm) all at the same time - and so I said - which left Jenny. A bodhran was found and handed over which resulted in severe confusion as to how she would hold her music and a drum and a beater (not that there was a beater) and read two lines of music. I offered to hold the music. And the drum. And to hit any beats she happened to miss. At this our Lord and Master decided to find someone else, another Andrew-type, to do the job. Good decision. The other percussion in this piece – finger cymbals – is being provided by Harriet who can do everything at once – or almost. She admitted to missing a few times. And then asked, in a slightly concerned voice, about a music stand for the performance. She was told she’d have to manage without even if it meant holding something – was it the cymbals, was it the music? – in her toes. Somehow I think she actually would manage that if it were really necessary...

So we sang through most things and those things we didn’t sing or sang badly will be practised before the concert on Sunday – Ol really can be very blasé about such things. I suppose that indicates that he has faith in us. From which we should take comfort. Natalie was keen to know if her triplets sounded all right (see last week). “Yes, fine. Thank you for doing that, it’s very handy,” says the L&M. ‘Handy’ – I ask you. Just don’t get carried away with such enthusiastic praise, Natalie. We wouldn’t want you to get above yourself.

Okey-dokey, enough for this instalment as I might feel the urge to write more after the concert and I wouldn’t want to take advantage of your patience, Dear Reader. (You see I have given up on the /s now. If there is more than one of you out there I apologise for my lack of faith. At least I keep writing in spite of it).
Wish us luck for Sunday – particularly in the aerial department. Here’s to the wind beneath our wings...