And a very wide yawn. Up at 3.30 this-morning having only succumbed to sleep at about 1.30am (intended to stay up all night and ‘power through’ as elder sprog would say. Fail). Was walking down to Waverley Bridge by 4.20 in order to hop aboard airport bus. As a result of all this am feeling very slightly woozy and numb of brain. Was definitely at a choir rehearsal last night but not sure where or why or what we did. Also am using my dad’s lap-top with strangely small and curvy keyboard - most confusing. Hold out very little hope for this blog. Funny, isn’t it - and have meant to mention this many times before - how computers do not recognise the word ‘blog’ when it only exists because they do.
So - you may be pleasantly surprised by shortness of this update. Unless new burst of post-prandial energy kicks in and I start sp... - am unable to write the word I want as computer keeps changing it so will have to space out letters, sorry - s p r a f f i n g with typical over-volubility.
Computer wished me to write ‘strafing’. What on earth for?
A committee meeting was just coming to a conclusion when I arrived last night - I am not sure if anyone present was paying attention as most of them espied my arrival and waved at me through the window when I’m sure they should have been looking at whoever was talking and, at the very least, pretending to listen. I heard Anne bringing proceedings to a close sounding only a tiny little bit frustrated.
Through to the other room trooped the committee having done their duty and on we went.
Douglas was back with much improved eye but accompanied by Jean, ready, she said, to take him home at the first sign of weariness. She stayed in the kitchen reading a book so I presume she can see through doors - Douglas obviously doesn’t really need his eyesight with such a wife. He stayed until nearly the end of the evening and then, with no word from Jean it seems, slipped quietly away. Telepathy as well as x-ray vision at work? "Douglas, you have had enough, don’t over-do it. Douglas, you have had enough. Time to go home..." Hmm. I wonder. If she can see through wood...
Taught the new people Une Puce - oh, the memories of trying to read weirdy olde French words and music at the same time. I think they were picking it up very quickly, considering. I am a little vague (not unusual) about what else we did. Contre qui, Rose was one - pretty well remembered. Sang it very slowly. No breath. Blue in face. No one noticed. Ollie had the girls practise their over-toney,harmonics-y singing for Desh - every time I think I’ve got this it goes again but it’s much easier when everyone’s singing and you can just go for it underneath all the other noise. The altos are better at this than the sopranos. Lower voices come in handy now and again even if they’re not so show-boat-y in general. Once we’d done this for a bit we all got back together again and practised the whole thing, rather slowly because slowly is how we’ll have to perform it in St Giles in the summer and we might as well get used to it. The tenors have to start this piece and have often been in trouble for not looking up to take the beat and speed from the BW... the sight of Robin with his eyes out on stalks, almost falling over in his eagerness to be seen to be watching was one I will not soon forget. Priceless. Even Douglas was looking at Ol, with one eye at least...
At some point during or after the singing of this piece I turned to see Jenny yogically propped on one leg , with the fingers of her left hand resting on her knee, middle finger to thumb, eyes fixed and staring as if she were in a meditative trance. "Are you being a tree?" I asked (that is a yoga posture btw, one which inevitably causes me to fall over unless I have the right trousers on - long story, don’t ask). The tree was instantly felled and became hysterical. I can’t be certain but I’m not sure she knew she was doing whatever she was doing... should we worry?
Then we sang Leonardo all the way through and in the bits where it didn’t sound dreadful it sounded amazing. Really. And there were quite a few bits which didn’t sound dreadful. By George, I think we’ve almost got it. OK, OK - slightly optimistic assessment perhaps, but there are a fair few of us who think we should just go for it and try it out at the next concert - there’s got to be a first time and it’s not necessarily easier the longer it’s left. Kay, for one, is not so keen. She has missed a rehearsal or two (in San Francisco, don’t ask me to feel sorry for her!) and Tamsin is not going to be at the Reid Hall concert so that leaves just Harriet (she does know what she’s doing) and Kay herself on the Soprano 1 part which is very high and pretty tricky, but - quit yer moaning, Ms Russell and listen to yer mp3!!!!!!!!!! [The BW, btw, sent around carefully crafted recordings of each part to help people to rehearse. There is a suspicion that only two people have actually listened to theirs.]
All over and more yummy biscuits and that’s when I decided to stay up all night because tea and biscuits after 10pm do not make for an easy drift off nod-landwards. Had long conversations about lord knows what with heaven knows whom. And then, as we were getting ready to leave, Jenny was talking about son Josh’s temper. "I just don’t listen", she says, putting the middle fingers of both hands to corresponding thumbs, "I just do this and close my eyes". Ah-ha. Now we know what she was doing in rehearsal. Not doing. She was not listening. Obviously. Duh. Trees have no ears...
I bid you farewell from not-at-all-sunny Sussex. Oh, no, wait - there are shadows on the lawn. Can this mean...??????? Yey! I see blue sky. I go out under it.
Mwah.
Friday, 17 June 2011
Friday, 10 June 2011
80% of what?
I should be in my garden planting things that should have been planted weeks ago but the weather’s looking a bit dicey (what, again?) and I only garden in the sun so here I am instead, feeling slightly guilty for not getting on with one job and rather pleased with myself for substituting another rather than curling up with a book. You are lucky the tennis hasn’t started yet – blogging does not stand a chance against goggling at people walloping a ball back and forth and over and into a net. (And this in spite of the dearth of heart-throbby types. Where are all the pretty boys? Someone needs to start picking potential world-beaters on the basis of their facial features – the bodies look after themselves, after all...)
Too much from one old enough to be (quite a young) grandmother? Possibly. But we all like something nice to look at, don’t we?
Arno mentioned on Wednesday evening that the blogs seem to be getting longer – I think they are and perhaps they shouldn’t be. I go on about myself a good deal, don’t I? See – there’s the flaw in the blogospherical world. Who is going to bother except egocentric types who imagine they have something worthwhile to broadcast about their lives when really they are no more interesting or articulate than anyone else. Quite possibly less so. Almost definitely less so. Well, I’m not going to promise to change my ways. Not when I’m so marvellous and fascinating.
We were sadly down on numbers – again – this week. Douglas is still having to rest his eye, Kay is still on holiday, Heather is still getting married. How long does it take to get hitched these days? For goodness sake! Put on a pretty dress, show off a bit, say “I do” a few times and Bob’s yerunc, Fanny’s yer aunt and you are a Mrs Whoosit. Easy!
As for the others, Luke is no longer recovering from the root-canal work (one hopes) but is being over-worked, as is Christopher. Poor lambs. I have no idea how that feels though I hear about it a lot from my husband. No idea about the rest of the absentees. Hope they’re OK and not in the ranks of the OW’ed as well. Congratulations to Marie-Claire who turned up even though she is doing her (medic) finals and after a not particularly pleasant exam and Anna Lauren who came for a while but had to go home early through tiredness (I think). Hope you’re feeling better, AL. Take it easy whenever possible, that’s my advice. (To everyone – pregnant or not!)
This week we were mostly working on Leonardo. Used Nobis Datus as a warm-up and spent some time perfecting blended vowels which proved to be wasted effort as we had to do it all again when we got to Leo and his machine. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” says our Lord and Master, “You just can’t be bothered to remember”. Well, either stupid or lazy. Take your pick. One way or the other we need to be reminded to an extent which must put oLaM in danger of ulcers. And consider the number of people who were absent... he will have to start reminding all over again next week.!
No change there then.
We are getting the hang of this piece, gradually. Working on a section here, a few bars there, it is beginning to come together. We might even try it out in our next concert. Harriet is going to be the only Sop 1 who knows what is going on and even she-who-is-nearly-perfect found herself going wrong and "trying to follow the tenors". What? Why? I think we’d all agree that this is absolutely no way to go to get things right. [heeeeyyyyy!] Harriet must be aware of this now. The hilarity which followed her admission would be enough to convince anyone that they’d made a fundamental misjudgement. The tenors never know what they are doing, this is accepted fact. Never, ever follow a tenor. Even if – especially if – you are another tenor. [oh okay, fair point.]
Back to the dodgy vowels and, asks Sebastian, “Should I be hearing ‘pisses and writes’?” Well, no. Not ideally. The word is ‘paces’. He is pacing and writing – is he pacing back and forth to his desk, writing a bit then moving on or is he carrying a notepad and a quill with him? Alas! We will never know–he is pacing and writing and not, as someone suggested, causing the candles to burn low by practising his aim. (To such depths, I’m afraid, do your innocent choristers descend from time to time).
Once we’d finished singing someone asked to know what we’re supposed to be singing on June 25th. Ollie said it would be 80% of the London programme. “80% of each song?” asked Robin. “No, we leave four people out each time,” suggested Sebastian. I have no idea if the maths of that notion is correct or not but which is the right answer?
Jenny was quite remarkably quiet this week. Apart, that is, from some muttering during and after bar 90 of the above song (a question of grammar or sentence construction or somesuch – basically no comma where our Jen thinks there should be one); and no, one cannot sing and mutter at the same time but we have 3 bars rest after the problem area and she put these to good use. She told me she’d had no coffee all day and that she’d had some tea before leaving the house (being English, at first I thought she meant a cuppa then realised that she, being from Yorkshire, was referring to dinner). Thus was she in a stable frame of mind. No, no, no, Jenny. Don’t be boring. Drink an ocean of coffee on an empty stomach next Wednesday and come and amuse us properly, please.
Delicious Spanish biscuits, courtesy of John and Susan, at coffee time which meant that I ate far too many and indeed, as a result, more or less lived off biscuits on Wednesday having eaten very little else except for biscuits (homemade and very healthy... hmmm) earlier in the day. Bad me. Some be-wailing of the aging process with Susan and Anne (the latter being much more accepting of it than either Susan or me) over a cup of tea and all those cookies (which are not going to help maintain a healthy, youthful glow now are they?) and time to go home. Jenny offered me a lift, as usual; I accepted, as usual, even though I should have run home as fast as little, fat legs could scamper in order to mitigate effects of appalling diet.
...and I only made the biscuits for the decorators but they don’t seem to eat biscuits and so who’s going to carry on consuming biscuits until they’re all gone...?
Too much from one old enough to be (quite a young) grandmother? Possibly. But we all like something nice to look at, don’t we?
Arno mentioned on Wednesday evening that the blogs seem to be getting longer – I think they are and perhaps they shouldn’t be. I go on about myself a good deal, don’t I? See – there’s the flaw in the blogospherical world. Who is going to bother except egocentric types who imagine they have something worthwhile to broadcast about their lives when really they are no more interesting or articulate than anyone else. Quite possibly less so. Almost definitely less so. Well, I’m not going to promise to change my ways. Not when I’m so marvellous and fascinating.
We were sadly down on numbers – again – this week. Douglas is still having to rest his eye, Kay is still on holiday, Heather is still getting married. How long does it take to get hitched these days? For goodness sake! Put on a pretty dress, show off a bit, say “I do” a few times and Bob’s yerunc, Fanny’s yer aunt and you are a Mrs Whoosit. Easy!
As for the others, Luke is no longer recovering from the root-canal work (one hopes) but is being over-worked, as is Christopher. Poor lambs. I have no idea how that feels though I hear about it a lot from my husband. No idea about the rest of the absentees. Hope they’re OK and not in the ranks of the OW’ed as well. Congratulations to Marie-Claire who turned up even though she is doing her (medic) finals and after a not particularly pleasant exam and Anna Lauren who came for a while but had to go home early through tiredness (I think). Hope you’re feeling better, AL. Take it easy whenever possible, that’s my advice. (To everyone – pregnant or not!)
This week we were mostly working on Leonardo. Used Nobis Datus as a warm-up and spent some time perfecting blended vowels which proved to be wasted effort as we had to do it all again when we got to Leo and his machine. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” says our Lord and Master, “You just can’t be bothered to remember”. Well, either stupid or lazy. Take your pick. One way or the other we need to be reminded to an extent which must put oLaM in danger of ulcers. And consider the number of people who were absent... he will have to start reminding all over again next week.!
No change there then.
We are getting the hang of this piece, gradually. Working on a section here, a few bars there, it is beginning to come together. We might even try it out in our next concert. Harriet is going to be the only Sop 1 who knows what is going on and even she-who-is-nearly-perfect found herself going wrong and "trying to follow the tenors". What? Why? I think we’d all agree that this is absolutely no way to go to get things right. [heeeeyyyyy!] Harriet must be aware of this now. The hilarity which followed her admission would be enough to convince anyone that they’d made a fundamental misjudgement. The tenors never know what they are doing, this is accepted fact. Never, ever follow a tenor. Even if – especially if – you are another tenor. [oh okay, fair point.]
Back to the dodgy vowels and, asks Sebastian, “Should I be hearing ‘pisses and writes’?” Well, no. Not ideally. The word is ‘paces’. He is pacing and writing – is he pacing back and forth to his desk, writing a bit then moving on or is he carrying a notepad and a quill with him? Alas! We will never know–he is pacing and writing and not, as someone suggested, causing the candles to burn low by practising his aim. (To such depths, I’m afraid, do your innocent choristers descend from time to time).
Once we’d finished singing someone asked to know what we’re supposed to be singing on June 25th. Ollie said it would be 80% of the London programme. “80% of each song?” asked Robin. “No, we leave four people out each time,” suggested Sebastian. I have no idea if the maths of that notion is correct or not but which is the right answer?
Jenny was quite remarkably quiet this week. Apart, that is, from some muttering during and after bar 90 of the above song (a question of grammar or sentence construction or somesuch – basically no comma where our Jen thinks there should be one); and no, one cannot sing and mutter at the same time but we have 3 bars rest after the problem area and she put these to good use. She told me she’d had no coffee all day and that she’d had some tea before leaving the house (being English, at first I thought she meant a cuppa then realised that she, being from Yorkshire, was referring to dinner). Thus was she in a stable frame of mind. No, no, no, Jenny. Don’t be boring. Drink an ocean of coffee on an empty stomach next Wednesday and come and amuse us properly, please.
Delicious Spanish biscuits, courtesy of John and Susan, at coffee time which meant that I ate far too many and indeed, as a result, more or less lived off biscuits on Wednesday having eaten very little else except for biscuits (homemade and very healthy... hmmm) earlier in the day. Bad me. Some be-wailing of the aging process with Susan and Anne (the latter being much more accepting of it than either Susan or me) over a cup of tea and all those cookies (which are not going to help maintain a healthy, youthful glow now are they?) and time to go home. Jenny offered me a lift, as usual; I accepted, as usual, even though I should have run home as fast as little, fat legs could scamper in order to mitigate effects of appalling diet.
...and I only made the biscuits for the decorators but they don’t seem to eat biscuits and so who’s going to carry on consuming biscuits until they’re all gone...?
Thursday, 2 June 2011
Are you as confused as I am?
So, here I am once more - having been forced to leave you to Jenny’s tender mercies last week due to yet another internet malfunction. I have said it before – and here I go again (and it won’t be the last time either) – technology is pants. Quite why pants are used as an object of odium I don’t know, I’m sure; darned useful things they are and we’d be lost without them. Or coldish around the nether regions for far too many months of the year, anyway. And, if American, forced to live amongst men in skirts – which, as we well know, faced with some of the be-kilted monstrosities to be seen hinginaboot the streets and byways of Scotchland, can be an unsavoury experience to say the least.
Thank you, Jenny, for your contribution – much shorter and to the point than anything I seem able to produce; but I was sorry you did a me and forgot the funny thing(s) I said. I can remember them extremely clearly (there’s a wonder) but it’s too late now to repeat them (sob) and my wit is lost to the wider world (that’s you, Dear solitary Reader) forever (sigh).
Well, I’d better get a move on while the internet-sticky-thingy deigns to do its job so here goes:
Last night. Thought I was running late but arrived to find nearly everyone congregated in the hall – something of a squash – in no particular hurry to move and get on despite our Lord and Master having been quite stern on the subject of tardiness at last week’s meeting and at one or two rehearsals earlier in the year. However the L&M was also rather sloth-like and, dawdling from the basement regions some minutes behind time himself, proceeded to engage my attention with tales of a wedding attended last weekend (of which more later) instead of chivvying us through to start practising.
Eventually we were gathered in the correct place, missing a few notables: Douglas, recovering from a detached retina (eek); Luke, recovering from root-canal work (yuck); Kay, John and Susan on holiday (grrr) and Heather, getting married soon (aah). Anna Lauren was back and recovered from foot-failure (yey), (tentative diagnosis, tendonitis) and looking every inch the blooming mother-to-be but, she says, feeling like the chap in Alien just before the gruesome bit.
Robin was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of Bert and whoosit on it (help, please, Christopher – can’t remember the other one’s name [It's Ernie]). “Ahh, is that you and Gordon?” asks Jenny. “Ur.. um.. no.. yes,” answers Robin (that’s clear then). “I always thought Bert and Ernie were brothers,” offers Behm. “Oh, no. No oh no,” say Robin, Chris and Ollie. “Perhaps I had a strange relationship with my brothers then,” Behm suggests. Perhaps he did.
We began by trying something new – Nobis Datus by Victoria. I don’t remember why Jenny was fussing but I do remember that Christopher guffawed far too loudly and quite unnecessarily when Ollie said to her (with only a small touch of equally superfluous irony and a large grin), ‘Nevermind, just follow Claire’. Now, as you will witness, I am always willing to admit my failings when it comes to sight-reading (and counting and singing in tune) but I am not a complete numpty and actually – apart from the counting – this was not at all a difficult piece to sight-read and I did it perfectly well. And our Jenny had got some literary notionette into her head and spent the whole evening trying to get her thoughts down on paper, scribbling away on a tiny scrap of something that resembled a crumpled old receipt from an ancient shopping trip, so that her mind was entirely elsewhere. When we moved on to Leonardo I can safely submit that I was upholding the Alto 2's honour pretty much all by myself even in the impossible parts. So there, Mr Editor. There have been rehearsals when Jen has been absent – not many, but she does go off on holiday now and again – and I know I can make a bit of a fuss about singing on my own if there is a new piece or something we’ve not done much but this is only because I do not like, never have liked and never will like, making a fool of myself. I am full of admiration for people who get on with the job and get it wrong and ask for assistance but I like to get things right (and first time if at all possible) – which is silly, I know but can’t be helped. But at these Jenny-less rehearsals, I am not entirely lost and it should not be presumed that I am, thank you very much.
That told ‘em.
Yes, we spent a fair amount of time on old Leo which is good. I, for one, am quite a bit clearer on what happens where and I actually managed to sing and count (not much watching Ollie but you can’t have it all at once) all the way through to the end before the evening was over. We still didn’t practise the beginning, which has been sadly neglected, but I am sure that will come and Anne assures me that our part isn’t too difficult [The first page isn't hard, it's just loud and high]. I don’t remember and can’t tell from just glancing at it but I’m sure she’s right. (!) Once we’d finished Ollie was telling us which bits we’d rehearse in detail next week. He told the tenors to look at page 6. I suggested they might like to look at the music on page 6 as well. Nikos asked if the basses could work on page 5, “Particularly bar 21... And 22... and 23, and – up to 26, actually.” “Perhaps we could start at bar one”, Sebastian added. I think we all know how they feel.
Afterwards we gave Rachael a very late birthday card – a first and very feeble offering from yours truly. She should have had one a couple of weeks ago but Douglas has been off (see above) and so Natalie asked me last week if I could arrange something instead. Well, I thought I’d have lots of time at work to make something worth giving her but I didn’t as it turned out so, sorry, Rachael – perhaps next year. A raucous rendition of the birthday song may have made up for the poor quality of the card itself. I hope so.
During the coffee-and-tea-drinking session that inevitably follows rehearsals we heard more about Ollie’s wedding. Well, not his – God forbid! – but the one he went to. Old school friend marrying into the Greek community this was one big, fat Greek wedding. 500 guests. £27,000 pinned to or draped over the happy couple. Ol said he was embarrassed to offer his meagre £20 when others had made necklaces of £50 notes so it went back in his pocket! I think £20 is a generous offering myself but perhaps under the circumstances and in such a public arena... But then – imagine – he went to sign the Guest Book only to discover they were charging £25 for the privilege. Hmm... Have we non-Greeks been getting things seriously wrong all these years? Either I need to find my girls Greek husbands (Nikos? One of the sopranos (????) thinks he has “a... captivating voice” – there’s no way of doing justice to the way it was said - and he seems like a lovely young man) or I need to start a new way of doing things. (In Scotland? Amongst the Scots? Is it likely to take off?)
And speaking of new ways of doing things we decided that Marie Claire, once qualified as a doctor, should set about making hospitals more like those of Holby City and Casualty. Living personal crises out on the wards to enliven things. Forgetting about the patients while emoting about yer love-life. That sort of mullarkey.Much more fun. During this conversation I suffered the thoroughly-deserved intervention of the karmic: “So, you’ll be a real doctor soon,” says Robin during discussion about the horrors of final exams. “If she passes”, I say (why?) and kick over a glass the contents of which merrily take off in an unstoppable stream across the carpet (the room must slope). I ran to the kitchen for mopping paraphernalia while Robin and Marie Claire laughed heartily at my misfortune. At least it was just water. The gods must know I really didn’t mean to be mean.
Ollie was causing great hilarity in the kitchen but I was in the wrong place saying the wrong thing so I’ve no idea what he was talking about. Regaling his appreciative audience with more wedding stories, I believe. Chris was cooking Ollie’s dinner and a very delicious pancake was shoved into my hands and pretty quickly after that into my mouth. Yum. And there was more later, of a sweet variety and bang went the smug feeling I’d been experiencing due to having consumed slightly fewer-than-recommended calories during the day. Ah well! Skinny quite often = scrawny at my age and is scrawny a good look? Is it? I think you all know what I want you to say...
Bye-bye, Lovelies.
Thank you, Jenny, for your contribution – much shorter and to the point than anything I seem able to produce; but I was sorry you did a me and forgot the funny thing(s) I said. I can remember them extremely clearly (there’s a wonder) but it’s too late now to repeat them (sob) and my wit is lost to the wider world (that’s you, Dear solitary Reader) forever (sigh).
Well, I’d better get a move on while the internet-sticky-thingy deigns to do its job so here goes:
Last night. Thought I was running late but arrived to find nearly everyone congregated in the hall – something of a squash – in no particular hurry to move and get on despite our Lord and Master having been quite stern on the subject of tardiness at last week’s meeting and at one or two rehearsals earlier in the year. However the L&M was also rather sloth-like and, dawdling from the basement regions some minutes behind time himself, proceeded to engage my attention with tales of a wedding attended last weekend (of which more later) instead of chivvying us through to start practising.
Eventually we were gathered in the correct place, missing a few notables: Douglas, recovering from a detached retina (eek); Luke, recovering from root-canal work (yuck); Kay, John and Susan on holiday (grrr) and Heather, getting married soon (aah). Anna Lauren was back and recovered from foot-failure (yey), (tentative diagnosis, tendonitis) and looking every inch the blooming mother-to-be but, she says, feeling like the chap in Alien just before the gruesome bit.
Robin was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of Bert and whoosit on it (help, please, Christopher – can’t remember the other one’s name [It's Ernie]). “Ahh, is that you and Gordon?” asks Jenny. “Ur.. um.. no.. yes,” answers Robin (that’s clear then). “I always thought Bert and Ernie were brothers,” offers Behm. “Oh, no. No oh no,” say Robin, Chris and Ollie. “Perhaps I had a strange relationship with my brothers then,” Behm suggests. Perhaps he did.
We began by trying something new – Nobis Datus by Victoria. I don’t remember why Jenny was fussing but I do remember that Christopher guffawed far too loudly and quite unnecessarily when Ollie said to her (with only a small touch of equally superfluous irony and a large grin), ‘Nevermind, just follow Claire’. Now, as you will witness, I am always willing to admit my failings when it comes to sight-reading (and counting and singing in tune) but I am not a complete numpty and actually – apart from the counting – this was not at all a difficult piece to sight-read and I did it perfectly well. And our Jenny had got some literary notionette into her head and spent the whole evening trying to get her thoughts down on paper, scribbling away on a tiny scrap of something that resembled a crumpled old receipt from an ancient shopping trip, so that her mind was entirely elsewhere. When we moved on to Leonardo I can safely submit that I was upholding the Alto 2's honour pretty much all by myself even in the impossible parts. So there, Mr Editor. There have been rehearsals when Jen has been absent – not many, but she does go off on holiday now and again – and I know I can make a bit of a fuss about singing on my own if there is a new piece or something we’ve not done much but this is only because I do not like, never have liked and never will like, making a fool of myself. I am full of admiration for people who get on with the job and get it wrong and ask for assistance but I like to get things right (and first time if at all possible) – which is silly, I know but can’t be helped. But at these Jenny-less rehearsals, I am not entirely lost and it should not be presumed that I am, thank you very much.
That told ‘em.
Yes, we spent a fair amount of time on old Leo which is good. I, for one, am quite a bit clearer on what happens where and I actually managed to sing and count (not much watching Ollie but you can’t have it all at once) all the way through to the end before the evening was over. We still didn’t practise the beginning, which has been sadly neglected, but I am sure that will come and Anne assures me that our part isn’t too difficult [The first page isn't hard, it's just loud and high]. I don’t remember and can’t tell from just glancing at it but I’m sure she’s right. (!) Once we’d finished Ollie was telling us which bits we’d rehearse in detail next week. He told the tenors to look at page 6. I suggested they might like to look at the music on page 6 as well. Nikos asked if the basses could work on page 5, “Particularly bar 21... And 22... and 23, and – up to 26, actually.” “Perhaps we could start at bar one”, Sebastian added. I think we all know how they feel.
Afterwards we gave Rachael a very late birthday card – a first and very feeble offering from yours truly. She should have had one a couple of weeks ago but Douglas has been off (see above) and so Natalie asked me last week if I could arrange something instead. Well, I thought I’d have lots of time at work to make something worth giving her but I didn’t as it turned out so, sorry, Rachael – perhaps next year. A raucous rendition of the birthday song may have made up for the poor quality of the card itself. I hope so.
During the coffee-and-tea-drinking session that inevitably follows rehearsals we heard more about Ollie’s wedding. Well, not his – God forbid! – but the one he went to. Old school friend marrying into the Greek community this was one big, fat Greek wedding. 500 guests. £27,000 pinned to or draped over the happy couple. Ol said he was embarrassed to offer his meagre £20 when others had made necklaces of £50 notes so it went back in his pocket! I think £20 is a generous offering myself but perhaps under the circumstances and in such a public arena... But then – imagine – he went to sign the Guest Book only to discover they were charging £25 for the privilege. Hmm... Have we non-Greeks been getting things seriously wrong all these years? Either I need to find my girls Greek husbands (Nikos? One of the sopranos (????) thinks he has “a... captivating voice” – there’s no way of doing justice to the way it was said - and he seems like a lovely young man) or I need to start a new way of doing things. (In Scotland? Amongst the Scots? Is it likely to take off?)
And speaking of new ways of doing things we decided that Marie Claire, once qualified as a doctor, should set about making hospitals more like those of Holby City and Casualty. Living personal crises out on the wards to enliven things. Forgetting about the patients while emoting about yer love-life. That sort of mullarkey.Much more fun. During this conversation I suffered the thoroughly-deserved intervention of the karmic: “So, you’ll be a real doctor soon,” says Robin during discussion about the horrors of final exams. “If she passes”, I say (why?) and kick over a glass the contents of which merrily take off in an unstoppable stream across the carpet (the room must slope). I ran to the kitchen for mopping paraphernalia while Robin and Marie Claire laughed heartily at my misfortune. At least it was just water. The gods must know I really didn’t mean to be mean.
Ollie was causing great hilarity in the kitchen but I was in the wrong place saying the wrong thing so I’ve no idea what he was talking about. Regaling his appreciative audience with more wedding stories, I believe. Chris was cooking Ollie’s dinner and a very delicious pancake was shoved into my hands and pretty quickly after that into my mouth. Yum. And there was more later, of a sweet variety and bang went the smug feeling I’d been experiencing due to having consumed slightly fewer-than-recommended calories during the day. Ah well! Skinny quite often = scrawny at my age and is scrawny a good look? Is it? I think you all know what I want you to say...
Bye-bye, Lovelies.
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