Spoiled you are!

It seems like our blogstress is stressed by her computer's kapuz-ted-ness. Could her tired mind have been thinking straight when she asked me to have a go at taking over her precious blog until she's fixed? However, it is a great pleasure dwelling on our AGM which poor Natalie valiantly brought to order several times and managed to keep us from too much discussion on the nitty gritty of things. Such as Robin asking me when and in which context I would use the expression - "Eeee, lad, A'll go to t'foot o' ow-er stairs!" - and Behm being surprised that my Granny actually used the expression.

I don't know what Sebastian's poor visiting daddy made of it all, him not speaking much German... I mean English.... (He may not speak much German either, but he seemed to make a pretty good attempt at it!!) Personally, I think he should be writing this blog, and next time I propose we do the AGM in subtitles.

In the midst of a nice selection of biscuits, crisps, tea, coffee, and sweets, we thanked Anne and Dick, most profusely, for their hard work as Admin and Treasurer. And we cheered heartily for the members willing to take on new posts (mainly relief... no one enjoys feeling they have to volunteer or be elected on the spot!). However Heather, our new Administrator, is going to find the job difficult without any arms... the said limbs having been twisted off!! Thanks also to Susan, who, on top of everything else she manages is willing to be treasurer and our blogstress who volunteered to HAND MAKE birthday cards for everyone. Thank you to Douglas who has been doing birthday cards (not hand made, though cleverly chosen) for a few years now. He is taking over the Xmas card list. A congratulations to Gordon, our auditor, who got a raise of £5 on his token of thanks. Chris said he will continue to manage the marketing side of things but doesn't promise to manage it unless people ask to be managed, or come to him with good ideas he can unpick and say why they won't work. If I've missed anyone out, sorry, Chris to fill in blanks.... I was too busy being surprised at being a trustee. I forget I am until these AGMs , and Anne is looking at me knowing full well I haven't been a very responsible one.

Nikos had a very clever idea about everyone paying subs in instalments, but it was too much for poor brain cells. People have to excuse my maths - I couldn't tell the time, understand money, do mental arithmetic or fractions way into my teens. But had math solely been binary codes, triangles, bar/ pie charts, or long division, I could have beaten Einstein any day!!
Where was I? Oh, yes.... oh, no .... someone thought I was volunteering for everything, though I'm not sure what and why it amused everyone.... Claire said something funny but I forget what.

Generally our AGMs do not follow the laborious-ness of serious meetings and it's rather difficult for people who need to go through the 'constitution of this that and the other' to get a decent solemn audience. Well done, Herr Meller, who was the only person in the room who was taking any notice whatsoever of the treasurer's report. Having time for a sing after the meeting (what an achievement!!) was anyone else amused or confused by seeing two Sebastians singing bass, or was anyone expecting a double outburst of manic scatting?!

We all deserved a slice of lime cake which Claire had baked, probably to prove to us that her new kitchen is now actually functioning! Then four of us sloped off to the pub.

That's all. I'm off to catch up on the Apprentice.

Jenny

They went, they sang, they conquered. Or some such thing.

So we was in Lunnun, innit. And we was good, man. Mos’ly, anyways. A likklebittabovva on Sunday, yeah? bu’ nuffin much. Wicked, me bruvvas. True.

Actually, it really did go quite well and just to prove it, the Belgian choir we sang with on Sunday are very keen – I’m reliably informed – to have us go to visit them and sing in Belgium. And that’s in spite of the fact that we made a right old mess of Jaani Hobu. Disaster struck at a point where stopping to start again was unrealistic so we had to keep going somehow…which we did but only because Harriet refused to be broken and kept singing when all others had given up. I say ‘we’ but the truth is that the altos weren’t supposed to be singing and neither, I believe, were the basses so we can all feel blameless and smug and point fingers at the sopranos and tenors who went wrong BIG TIME – no idea how [this is all a big fib, it was totally the Basses to blame]. Don’t suppose they know either. Eventually things came back together again but rather too together because we all finished at the same time which we shouldn’t have. I doubt anyone in the audience noticed that particular blunder, so much less glaringly obvious than the first. Just as well we don’t take ourselves too seriously, eh? Once we had finished Ollie turned to the audience and explained that we had just been singing about a man riding his horse... ‘And we all know,’ says our BW, ‘that people who ride horses sometimes fall off. I think that’s what happened there.’

Well, it was a good weekend all in all. Unfortunately Anna Lauren was unable to join us having (somewhat mysteriously) damaged her foot and no one wants to be traipsing around London with a sore foot – (I know this having broken my toe while at college when, being unable to get my shoe on, I had to hobble around the city barefoot for two or three weeks. Yuck. And imagine... your blogetteer, a filthy-footed drama student. How, um, bohemian) – especially when pregnant. AL sensibly decided to stay at home (which meant that Rachael had to take over singing her solo in Cheenar Es which she did beautifully, brave girl. To think she was once an alto...)

Those of us who made it to the centre of the universe met up in Ealing on Saturday afternoon where we had a chance to change, chat and check out some of our rival performers before a short rehearsal. After another chin-wag we made our way into St Matthew’s church and awaited our turn for ten minutes of fame. The quality of the singing was variable but all were enthusiastic. There was a lovely Estonians-in-London choir which included three babes-in-arms (Anna Lauren take note), a community choir with a huge age range and a sad story of lost funding and last ever performance, an enormous male-voice choir from Croydon who lifted the roof and were followed by a madrigal group of six – quite some contrast and perhaps not the best bit of programming! We sang second-to-last and did it beautifully – of course, tee hee. The Estonians loved our Tormis and I think everyone appreciated our slightly quirky choice of music. Afterwards we all went our separate ways for the evening – no post-concert hobnobbing this time... people to see, places to go. I went off to my friend Sharon’s for the night, which was lovely. There are some people you just don’t see enough of in life, are there not?

I was hoping to finish this tonight as I’ve left it so long – good excuse; been working ALL week. Six days in a row. What is the world coming to? But if I am to get up to play tennis at 9.30 tomorrow morning and have any chance at all of seeing the ball let alone hitting it I shall have to stop now and tuck myself down (I’m doing this in bed) and try to sleep. Younger daughter phoned earlier to tell me that the world is supposed to be coming to an end tonight - which answers rather neatly the question posed above (and in which case, what a waste of my last hours writing this) - and to tell me she loved me, just in case!! but I shall behave as if I will get my game of tennis in the morning and will get some rest now.

A demain xx

Demain is now aujour d’hui and here I am again having played tennis very badly indeed in the high winds and general dampness of the Meadows courts. Not the best – especially when there is a short-tennis tournament on with very small people playing a whole hell-of-a-lot better than moi. Grrrr.

Where had I got to? Sunday concert. West Hampstead. Glorious day. Arrived for rehearsal at 1.30. I had had breakfast ‘out’ in a lovely place called Le Pain (bread). (My friend Sharon texted her daughter who is currently in Vietnam, ‘In Pain with Claire and dad’. Daughter texted back, ‘Oh dear’! Most amusing) and then a wander around Liberty’s pretending I could afford their wares. Lovely way to start the day. Came upon a slightly dubious conversation, on arrival at Emmanuel Church, involving sleeping with snakes... hmm, don’t ask, but it involved Robin and Marie Claire and some snorts of unbridled laughter until son-of-the-manse Robin remembered where we were and put his Sunday face back on again. A short practise ensued and then the concert at 2.30. Not a bad turn-out really. Mostly family and friends, I think but I’m not certain about that. Considering there appeared to be no advertising except one small notice on the church notice-board, I suppose we were lucky to have an audience at all. And those who were there were very appreciative, as stated above somewhere and the very tight, professional Belgian group – of whom there are only eight or so, liked us muchly it appears. I’m sure we would be delighted to go and sing in Belgium for them but the mini-ness of their choir may make hosting our number a little tricky. We’ll see. I couldn’t stay for the whole of their performance as I had to get to Gatwick so I heard only the first three pieces. They sing beautifully but a very different sort of song choice and a very different style of singing... one with no mistakes, from what I could gather. Not our way at all.

So, now we start preparing for our next concert. Wednesday was quite a laid-back affair - apart from the traditional bickering about French pronunciation – but the Boy Wonder has mastered that language now so we are obliged to listen to him which should help. Should. Don’t hold yer breath. We concentrated on just two songs; the new Lauridson Contre qui, Rose (see petit probleme – avec accent which I must learn to put on for myself - above) and Abbie Betinis’ Envoi. Ollie even gave us a break in which to have a chat in the hope that this would focus our minds better. Wrong. It was really very hard to get back into singing mode once we’d relaxed out of it and considering how much yawning was going on before the break it’s really quite remarkable that anyone remained awake after it. However we managed to make some progress with the pieces and will be able to move on to sorting out old Leonardo next time. He needs some sorting, let me tell you. I am still entirely unable to make head or tail of the last three pages of la-la-la-ing – who would ever have thought it could be so darned difficult to ‘la’ and count and watch Ol all at the same time? My biggest problem these days is the fact that I need reading glasses to see my music with any great clarity now – eventually, failing brain not withstanding, I will know it well enough not to need to worry but seeing it is quite an advantage at this stage – however, with my glasses on, as well as looking like a scary-old granny,teacherly-type (which is not a good look for me), I struggle to see anything but a wavery blur of a conductor who could be doing anything or nothing for all that I can tell and this is even less helpful than failing to see which notes I’m supposed to be warbling and when. Bi-focals, you will suggest but I am in denial and have absolutely no intention of spending even more money on fancy-pantsy stuff such as that. Susan has the peering over the top of her specs down to a fine art but she’s older than me and I just can’t resort to that technique yet awhile. I can’t. Shan’t. So there.

We were missing Anna Lauren so no up-date on the pedi-problem. If you are reading this, AL (how unlikely is that??) I wish you better very soon, my dear.
Not much of an improvement on the anecdotal front. Going to get a very bad school report this term. Promise to make more of an effort from now on. What is the point of everyone being so very funny and witty and clever if I forget what they say as soon as they say it so that I can’t pass the amusement on to you, dear reader?

Bye for now, then, I say; head hanging in shame...

Must do better, must do better, must do better, must do better, must do better, must do better, must do better, must d

I’m back!

Yes and, oh lawks! working on a new laptop with an unfamiliar keyboard. This could take some time...

So, where have I been? you are asking (aren’t you?). Nowhere but here, dear reader(s), but sans computer and therefore of no earthly use to the blogosphere. The other machine-from-hell objected so severely to the dust and dirt of a mighty re-wiring enterprise that it turned up its tabs and expired thus leaving me without any means of cyber-communication (which annoyed me more than I would ever have thought possible given my Ludditey-loathing for anything containing a micro-chip and a search engine).

But I am back now and ready to tussle with technology on your behalf (-halves) like the battling blogetteer I will ever be.

Much has happened since last I had the opportunity to address you but most of the much has disappeared into the black hole of my mind along with all the other stuff I’m supposed to remember but don’t (such as where I put my glasses, when I’m supposed to go to work, the names of my children...) and, anyway, when was the last time I blogged? That information has been sucked into the bottomless abyss as well. Sometime shortly after Christmas, was it? Whilst I was in the midst of kitchen refurb? (Still not recovered from that and still not finished either!! Floor going down next week – I think. Aaagh!) Progress held up by above-mentioned re-wiring. Now the whole place needs re-decorating (which means choosing paint, which means aaagh! again).

You must be very glad indeed that I have been incommunicado all this time so that you have not had to suffer all the nightmare of the disruptions along with me, week by week, are you not? However, if you feel you’ve missed out atall I’m sure I could fill you in on all the agonies I have undergone over the last few months in the next few blogs...? No? Ah well. No doubt I’ll find something else to moan at you about at great length before too long.

This is confession time. All the above was writ as an introduction to last week’s blog and that is as far as I got. Too many distractions and not enough brain. I am off down south in a few hours so will endeavour to get something down here and sent off to Christopher before I go (though why I allow him anywhere near it I don’t know - he admitted to editing my work from time to time if he thought I’d used too many ellipses or succumbed to any other disgraceful habit of authorship and just who is he to decide which of the ellipses or other such is unnecessary? [I'm the Editor! As long as it has to pass through me I'll play with it.] Each one comes from the heart I can assure you).

The choir as a whole – or nearly a whole, perhaps a four fifths – is heading to London this weekend for a couple of concerts in the annual London Stavanger (that’s spelled wrongly, I know but I can’t think how it’s supposed to look right now) [it's Sangerstevne], a Scandinavian-sort-of choir festival. Non-competitive. Most important that it’s non-competitive or we wouldn’t go. Not very many of us are leaving today but I am off to spend a couple of nights with the aged parents (who look and act anything but) in Sussex. Lovely. We all meet up at about 3.30pm (I think/hope) in Ealing on Saturday. There are several concerts in Ealing on Saturday, each with several choirs performing and we are singing in one that starts at 5.00pm (St Matthew’s Church, for any southern types who fancy such entertainment free of charge, which is always a bonus) and we will be singing for about 10 minutes somewhere towards the end of the programme. We have to hope that the other choirs are good or there could be an empty church by the time we get to have a yodel. Well, empty except for my Aged P’s, Helen Miles and Oliver Henderson – Rudsambee members of yore (the latter two, not my parents) who are both coming to see us, so I’ve heard. At least those four will constitute an appreciative, if rather bijou, audience.

On Sunday we get a whole half a concert to ourselves - which is a bit more like it – sharing with some Belgians, if I’m not much mistaken; and we are singing first so that if the inhabitants of West Hampstead turn out in force to support us, we have a better chance of an audience even if we sing like hell and spoil it for the others. Emmanuel Church, Lyncroft Gardens NW6, btw, just in case Free again and again, we can be assured of four looker-on-and-listener-inners. Perhaps if that’s all we get we can cram ourselves – and them – into the front two pews so it all feels cosier. That’s if there are still pews there. The church in my parent’s village where I got married and my girls were both baptised has got rid of such old-fashioned furnishings so that they can get all friendly and confidential once or twice a month and discuss things while having coffee and croissants!! Most peculiar. And a really good way to ruin a beautiful, ancient church. I suppose they think it better to have it full(ish) though despoiled rather than untouched but empty. I don’t care very much about what goes on in churches but I did rather love that building. Sob.

So – we have a good mix of things to sing this weekend. Some old, some new. We will be starting with Tormis on Saturday which may well confuse people not familiar with our repertoire. Ollie is expecting them to think we’re mad and indeed they may well do so. Especially as we are singing Kiisu Miisu (about an cat) and Susan is going to do her brilliant cat impersonation here and there when she feels like it (while Robin sings the words and the rest of us sing a meouw-y sort of sound underneath). After this we move onto Lulling which is very pretty and straightforward and then Desh, of which I have spoken before though so long ago you may not remember. This is the piece based on an Indian raga and we sang it at our first concert this year – in the National Gallery – where an Indian gentleman jumped to his feet at the end of it and came bustling up to us enthusing about the song/our performance/the arrangement and, in great emotion and excitement, demanded extra applause from the other audience members – which was gratifying to say the least. A shame we didn’t kidnap him in order to take him and his enthusiasm with us whenever we perform this piece but I suppose that behaviour would be unacceptable. Desh will be followed by a new piece called Fog Elna Khel – a traditional Syrian/Iraqi song, High Above the Palm Tree There above, I have an intimate friend [here's an interesting point then: due to a cunning homophone, this song is mistransalted as being about a palm tree. People then remark about the absence of said tree anywhere except in the first line without realising the mistake!]. Arno sings a brilliant solo – very Arabic-sounding - and we get to sing our favourite brash ‘a’ sound. Then we finish with two of the Armenian Komitas folk songs – the jolly ones, saving gorgeous Cheenar Es for Sunday.

And on Sunday we do all the above with the addition of several old favourites and a new Debussy, Quant j’ai ouy le tabourin, with a lovely solo from Marie-Claire and lots of rhythmic (cross yer fingers wontcha?) la-la-la-ing from the rest of us. Should be good. Should be fun. Dontchoowanna be there?

Once this is done with we will start preparing for a concert at the Reid Concert Hall on June 25th. Think we’re going to make it a charity event so do come if you’re in town. More info later, of course, now you have your blogetteer back, yey!
I will end here as I must get this to Mr Scott for his unwarrantable ministrations and if I leave it all too long I will be in a panic and forget to re-pack my music or something horrendous. If I don’t have my music and Jenny has only half of hers [and that trampled through mud most likely], as usual, where will the poor three available altos be? Yes, there will be only three of us so we have pinched Rachael (she moved up to soprano, if you remember) for a couple of the songs to swell the manly-lady chorus. We have to sing a high ‘E’ at one point, all by ourselves in a very exposed fashion and, although I can get a high ‘E’ perfectly well when not so exposed and not trying to sing it on an ‘-ing’ sound which is really, really tricky, Jenny admitted last night that she can’t sing it at all so that would leave poor Heather trilling away all alone (perhaps with yours truly in squealy accompaniment) and this would not do. Rachael knows the part for this song and whichever other one it is we decided we needed her for so, please, touch any available wood right now so that she doesn’t develop a cold or any other undesirable buglet before the weekend.

Now I shall really stop. Next time I shall try and give you more amusing anecdotal info – this has all been a little bit catchy-uppy and boring. Note to self: Must do better.

Here’s to success and laughter in the big smoke. ‘til next week. Adieu.