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