“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...