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.