Miss Evangeline Sara Packer has made a tardy but welcome entrance into Edinburgh society. Photographs have appeared in the Rudsambee Weekly and it is clear that this beautiful young lady will do nothing but enhance our social calendar for many years to come. She will be presented to members at some point in the not-too-distant future (or so your blogetteer presumes) but, until then, I am sure you will join me in extending the warmest of welcomes to the lovely debutante and the most heart-felt congratulations to her proud parents, AnnaLauren and Tim.
And extend also, please, crossed fingers that they get some sleep. Lots of sleep. (My husband used to watch Blackadder with our first, in the early hours when I was almost demented with tiredness and she was being demanding, and it worked a treat; she calmed down, he was amused, I got to sleep. For ten minutes. Before feeding time AGAIN).
On to Wednesday. Fifteen or so of us this week; not bad but there are quite a few scheduled to be off next week, too, so it’s just as well that our next concert is not going to be too demanding. Except that Ollie has added two new (to most of us) Gaelic songs into the programme. Somehow – beyond all the other languages that we sing – I find the Gaelic the most impossible to learn. Why is that? It’s not that I can’t say the words (though it’s best not to look at them as written if you wish to stay sane) but... well, but what? Why? Wherefore? No idea. Suffice it to say that as soon as a Gaelic piece is handed out (not very often, I am delighted to say) my heart takes an icy bath and my brain goes into flight mode. You can take that as meaning that it runs away as fast as it can or that it shuts down. Either is appropriate. It may be because, when I first joined the choir, I had to contend with a Gaelic set which everyone but me knew (and off by heart, too) and I had to learn it (and off by heart, too) very quickly and got myself into a right old tizzy about it (unnecessarily, of course). Perhaps I never recovered from this initial experience. Or it may be because I have an extreme aversion to these pieces – again, why? Absolutely no good reason for that. I actually quite like listening to them, sung well. And I love good old, jiggy Scottish music; makes me want to dance in a very lively and potentially life-threatening fashion. So – why, why, why. And why again. (Are you beginning to sense that, yet again, I don’t have much to say for myself? Funny, that).
Jenny and the other very old (!) [shall we say, Experienced?] members of Rudsambee were well acquainted with these two pieces. Jenny was given the job of telling the rest of us how to pronounce the words. She did very well, on the whole, but pronunciation lessons never run smoothly in Rudsambee rehearsals and there were some contentious moments. Everyone always knows best and when you’ve got three different versions of one word coming at you from three different corners of the room, writing down an indecipherable transliteration (OK, so maybe that’s not exactly the right word but Gaelic might as well be written in a different alphabet for all the sense those letter combinations make); writing phony phonetics down really, really badly becomes inevitable. And I have never yet had the experience of someone speaking sl-o-w-ly when doing this job. Each one rabbits on so fast that I couldn’t even write down English words that quickly let alone peculiar personal versions of unfamiliar ones. Anyway, the tunes are easy so no doubt all will be well. Eventually.
I’ve said that before. Often.
We also started work on a new Eric Whitaker piece (yum). It is called The Seal Lullaby, words by Mr Kipling – he of the poetry, of course, not the pies. It is very pretty and, unusually for us, will have a piano accompaniment so we can’t sing it in the Scottish Poetry Library (no piano) which is a shame as it is quite straightforward – I mean that ‘quite’. There are some tricksy little places which messed up what promised to be another reasonable attempt at sight-reading from yours truly. And it’s the sort of tricksiness that is not so evident when singing one part at a time but becomes appallingly obvious once any other part is added in. Sing the awkward alto bars with only other altos and – what’s the fuss about? Add in a soprano or two, some tenors and the growlers... mayhem. In my mind, anyway. But it IS only a few bars of confusion. AWBW. E.
Ollie wasn’t feeling very good – he hasn’t been feeling brilliant for a while, now, (wish him better and, like Peter Pan and the fairies, I’m sure your wishes will do the trick) so we didn’t have a long rehearsal. I think it was quite productive, though. Certainly it was enjoyable.
Afterwards we sang a belated Happy Birthday to both Heather and Susan. Very belated in Susan’s case as she was away last week when the day of the rehearsal was the actual day of her birthday. Heather’s had only been the day before.
Then, speaking of birthdays, Jenny suggested that I should be forced, I mean encouraged, to recite the poem wot I wrote for Kay’s party. Now, I just happened to have a copy of said poem with me (!) to give to Kay – something I meant to do at her party but didn’t (just as well as I have had time since to review and re-write the bits that needed serious attention) and so, in great embarrassment, I was prevailed upon to entertain my fellow Rudsambeeites with my magnum opus, A Wolf’s Tale (bad title but I haven’t thought of anything better yet). I made them laugh and I was delighted with the reception my efforts received. Gee, shucks, Guys. Thanks. There was a request made that I put the pome on the blog and, indeed, I may do so at some point, but now I have to go and pack for a visit down south (won’t be here next week btw) so such an event will have to be postponed, I’m afraid and you will have to await the literary event of the year in eager anticipation.
xxx
Friday, 23 September 2011
Saturday, 17 September 2011
Another small one. Short, too.
Of what or of whom am I speaking?
Well, it’s not hard to guess, is it? Not our Boy Wonder, though he is quite little. Not any choir member at all, though some of them are really tiny.
No, no. Wednesday’s rehearsal is my subject matter of course and, once again, we were a select group and, once again, it wasn’t worth doing much in the way of learning new material. It must surely be time for things to get back to normal now, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Where is everybody????
Anne has lost her voice – careless but easily done – and she won’t be back for quite a while as she finds it impossible, she says, to attend rehearsals and not join in. Fair enough. I think lots of other people were caught up with work and I suppose this can’t be helped. Kay was at a parent-teacher meeting and came along late but by the time she got there we’d just about finished so we serenaded her with a new piece we’d learned (so quickly and I sight-read it all very happily, too; could it be extremely easy, by any chance?) and I think she got a chance to sing through something but she might as well have gone straight home from the school for all the practice she got, poor thing. Still, she had in-laws baby-sitting so it would have been daft to miss the opportunity for tea and biscuits, no?
We began by singing Sang and then put it aside for later. We sang Grabmediddlywhoosits, too – bit of work required on the Gaelic pronunciation but Robin’s solo sounds lovely. Then we tried the new piece and, as we didn’t get copies to bring home, I will have to leave it to Christopher to inform you what it is called and by whom it was penned as I cannot remember at all [it's called O Lux Beatissima]. I do remember it being something of a doddle to sight-read with a fair amount of accuracy (I am not claiming perfection, not by any means) and that it is in Latin and is suitable for Christmas. See, I took in quite a lot, really.
Once we’d finished with that one the BW announced that he was off to make a cup of tea and that he was leaving us to do some work on Sang – make it interesting, he ordered as he disappeared. Well, we tried, really we did. There was a considerable period of silence broken, eventually, by a giggle or two and then Mrs F got all sensible (?? I know!) and made a suggestion. Off we went then, everyone had something to say. Only trouble was no one seemed to have the same thing to say. One wanted to crescendo at exactly the place someone else thought a decrescendo would be nice. Someone wanted to speed up when others thought a rit. would fit the bill; loud/soft, fast/slow, start/stop. Lordy! We did have a go at verse one and it sounded not bad at all but then the discussion about ways and means reopened and we never got any further so that when Ol returned we were still talking round in circles – and round. And around and back again. He soon sorted us out. We played around with just the first word for a while and some very sudden changes in volume in the first couple of bars and voila! Far more interesting already. We are inclined to become a bit lazy with older pieces and this sort of tweaking works wonders.
So, there you are. Bit dull but I have things to get on with so that’ll have to do you. Laters!
Well, it’s not hard to guess, is it? Not our Boy Wonder, though he is quite little. Not any choir member at all, though some of them are really tiny.
No, no. Wednesday’s rehearsal is my subject matter of course and, once again, we were a select group and, once again, it wasn’t worth doing much in the way of learning new material. It must surely be time for things to get back to normal now, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Where is everybody????
Anne has lost her voice – careless but easily done – and she won’t be back for quite a while as she finds it impossible, she says, to attend rehearsals and not join in. Fair enough. I think lots of other people were caught up with work and I suppose this can’t be helped. Kay was at a parent-teacher meeting and came along late but by the time she got there we’d just about finished so we serenaded her with a new piece we’d learned (so quickly and I sight-read it all very happily, too; could it be extremely easy, by any chance?) and I think she got a chance to sing through something but she might as well have gone straight home from the school for all the practice she got, poor thing. Still, she had in-laws baby-sitting so it would have been daft to miss the opportunity for tea and biscuits, no?
We began by singing Sang and then put it aside for later. We sang Grabmediddlywhoosits, too – bit of work required on the Gaelic pronunciation but Robin’s solo sounds lovely. Then we tried the new piece and, as we didn’t get copies to bring home, I will have to leave it to Christopher to inform you what it is called and by whom it was penned as I cannot remember at all [it's called O Lux Beatissima]. I do remember it being something of a doddle to sight-read with a fair amount of accuracy (I am not claiming perfection, not by any means) and that it is in Latin and is suitable for Christmas. See, I took in quite a lot, really.
Once we’d finished with that one the BW announced that he was off to make a cup of tea and that he was leaving us to do some work on Sang – make it interesting, he ordered as he disappeared. Well, we tried, really we did. There was a considerable period of silence broken, eventually, by a giggle or two and then Mrs F got all sensible (?? I know!) and made a suggestion. Off we went then, everyone had something to say. Only trouble was no one seemed to have the same thing to say. One wanted to crescendo at exactly the place someone else thought a decrescendo would be nice. Someone wanted to speed up when others thought a rit. would fit the bill; loud/soft, fast/slow, start/stop. Lordy! We did have a go at verse one and it sounded not bad at all but then the discussion about ways and means reopened and we never got any further so that when Ol returned we were still talking round in circles – and round. And around and back again. He soon sorted us out. We played around with just the first word for a while and some very sudden changes in volume in the first couple of bars and voila! Far more interesting already. We are inclined to become a bit lazy with older pieces and this sort of tweaking works wonders.
So, there you are. Bit dull but I have things to get on with so that’ll have to do you. Laters!
Saturday, 10 September 2011
It is Friday night...
... and this is all I am going to write.
Until tomorrow.
Tomorrow 11.04am
So, a little late again but with GOOD excuses. The younger sproglette had another wee job for STV – a Christmas craft session for the website! – and we had to work flat out to get everything ready for the recording yesterday. Usually I am furious when I see Christmas decorations out in the shops before Halloween but this last week I have been equally angry that no one local seems to have got their Christmas act together yet. And it’s the second week of September, for heaven’s sake – WHERE ARE THE BAUBLES??? She only got the ‘spend money’ go ahead on Monday and, believe you me, preparing for these things takes hours and hours so hours and hours is what we had to spend over the next few days whenever possible, leaving me precious little time for anything else. So hopefully in a month or two there will be a Christmas Crafts with Bella McDonald section on the STV website and if you want a few hints on how to keep the kids occupied with decoration-making (classy stuff!?) that will be the place to go.
Back to Wednesday evening, then and apart from a rather teeny soprano section and an Anne with hardly any voice we were pretty much back up to a group that closely resembled Rudsambee. It was a fairly relaxed evening. Ollie spent the first fifteen minutes or so collating music and handing it around and then we had a look at a couple of old pieces which we will be singing at the Scottish Poetry Library in November – obviously they want some poetical things and some Scottish things and preferably, of course, Scottishly poetical things so we revisited old stalwarts such as Sang and a Gaelic piece the name of which I can’t remember and if I could I wouldn’t be able to spell [but which most people know as the Eriskay Love Lilt]. Ae Fond Kiss was handed out also but we didn’t sing that one this week. Now, I do hate to admit this (well, I don’t really, it appears, as I admit it all the time and bore people to distraction with my opinion) but I find most of these Scottish songs really tedious to sing. They are very pretty and lovely to listen to, I’m sure, but they are not exciting to perform. As Ollie was handing out one or other of them he started to say ‘Now, this song is really...’ – madness to hesitate at this point - ‘...boring’ I supplied. People laughed. Ollie seemed not to have heard. Oh, but he had. ‘I heard that,’ he said. To Jenny. Had I got away with it? No, no. ‘It wasn’t me, it was her!’ exclaimed snitchy, clypey Mrs F. So I poked her in the ribs. She must be a glorious subject to tickle. One gentle prod and she was reduced to a jelly of hysterical giggles and splutterings which, it seemed, would never be brought under control. The temptation to re-administer a subtle jab or two whenever she began to calm down was so great you can hardly imagine the self-control I had to exert for the rest of the evening.
We sang Sang and we sangGrabh Whooseydiddlewot and then we went through to the piano room to have a go at a third Michael Tippet Negro spiritual By and By (and, by-the-by, Harry-you-know-who-you-are, if you’re reading this, I neber hab my thdongue im my tsheek whem I’m writdhin). By and By is much jollier than the other two and therefore caused me a problem or ten in the sight-reading dept. However, I am delighted to say that it was not me this time but Jenny Fardell who protested about the speed at which we were supposed to be singing entirely unfamiliar music. Yey! I didn’t have to feel like a complete numpty all alone. Anne joined us with what she had of a voice as she didn’t feel she should be singing the higher notes of the alto 1 part and, actually, once she had set us on the right path, it wasn’t at all bad. Susan, on her own on soprano 2, had a very awkward bit of unexpectedly dotted note-age to sing but she managed very well indeed. The same cannot be said of the tenor 2s who have the same nastiness in their part but I think they were getting the hang of it by the time we moved on. Why I ever worry about making an idiot of myself when we have a tenor section I don’t know. (Love you, boysies).
We then went over Steal Away and Go Down, Moses. The first isn’t too difficult but I did catch Anne giving me an old-fashioned look at one point so I think I must have been on the wrong note – I don’t think it at all, I KNOW I was on the wrong note. We were singing “Ah-ha-ha-ha” at the time and I should have been singing an E to an F# but was probably on a C or something. Who knows? Well, Anne would know. Anne always knows. That’s why I was subjected to one of her OFLs. Quite scary they are, btw. Go Down, Moses isn’t too bad until the alto 2s have a little joiny-up bit here and there. Jen and I were going down too low. Once someone had pointed out that we were supposed to be singing the same thing as the basses (told you we were manly, you had no idea just how manly, had you?) it was a little easier. Ah, well! It was only week two on these things. All will be well...
...eventually.
Coffee time and Arno was telling us about a show he’d been to see at the weekend (in Holland? I think so) which was about the Dutch contribution to the resistance movement during WWII. It took place in a huge hangar (the play, not the Dutch resistance movement) and the audience sat on a moving platform so the action took place all around them and they were turned to watch it instead of the stage revolving. Clever stuff, eh? At the end an actual plane taxied in through the doors (bringing the queen home) and then someone (the queen? Perhaps not) jumped on a motorbike and sped away up the runway. Sounds great, doesn’t it? A spectacle and a half, I’d guess. I was in a play at Edinburgh Airport a few years ago but we didn’t get to use a plane. Or a motorbike. Tsk.
Better stop now and get meself dressed. It is not a very nice day and I don’t know what I’m going to do with it (hubby was supposed to be coming home but now cannot do so); however I suppose I should at least go and buy some comestibles. Morningside calls. Ooo, and I have two pairs of shoes to get re-heeled. Things are looking up.
Au revoir, mes petits choux.
Until tomorrow.
Tomorrow 11.04am
So, a little late again but with GOOD excuses. The younger sproglette had another wee job for STV – a Christmas craft session for the website! – and we had to work flat out to get everything ready for the recording yesterday. Usually I am furious when I see Christmas decorations out in the shops before Halloween but this last week I have been equally angry that no one local seems to have got their Christmas act together yet. And it’s the second week of September, for heaven’s sake – WHERE ARE THE BAUBLES??? She only got the ‘spend money’ go ahead on Monday and, believe you me, preparing for these things takes hours and hours so hours and hours is what we had to spend over the next few days whenever possible, leaving me precious little time for anything else. So hopefully in a month or two there will be a Christmas Crafts with Bella McDonald section on the STV website and if you want a few hints on how to keep the kids occupied with decoration-making (classy stuff!?) that will be the place to go.
Back to Wednesday evening, then and apart from a rather teeny soprano section and an Anne with hardly any voice we were pretty much back up to a group that closely resembled Rudsambee. It was a fairly relaxed evening. Ollie spent the first fifteen minutes or so collating music and handing it around and then we had a look at a couple of old pieces which we will be singing at the Scottish Poetry Library in November – obviously they want some poetical things and some Scottish things and preferably, of course, Scottishly poetical things so we revisited old stalwarts such as Sang and a Gaelic piece the name of which I can’t remember and if I could I wouldn’t be able to spell [but which most people know as the Eriskay Love Lilt]. Ae Fond Kiss was handed out also but we didn’t sing that one this week. Now, I do hate to admit this (well, I don’t really, it appears, as I admit it all the time and bore people to distraction with my opinion) but I find most of these Scottish songs really tedious to sing. They are very pretty and lovely to listen to, I’m sure, but they are not exciting to perform. As Ollie was handing out one or other of them he started to say ‘Now, this song is really...’ – madness to hesitate at this point - ‘...boring’ I supplied. People laughed. Ollie seemed not to have heard. Oh, but he had. ‘I heard that,’ he said. To Jenny. Had I got away with it? No, no. ‘It wasn’t me, it was her!’ exclaimed snitchy, clypey Mrs F. So I poked her in the ribs. She must be a glorious subject to tickle. One gentle prod and she was reduced to a jelly of hysterical giggles and splutterings which, it seemed, would never be brought under control. The temptation to re-administer a subtle jab or two whenever she began to calm down was so great you can hardly imagine the self-control I had to exert for the rest of the evening.
We sang Sang and we sangGrabh Whooseydiddlewot and then we went through to the piano room to have a go at a third Michael Tippet Negro spiritual By and By (and, by-the-by, Harry-you-know-who-you-are, if you’re reading this, I neber hab my thdongue im my tsheek whem I’m writdhin). By and By is much jollier than the other two and therefore caused me a problem or ten in the sight-reading dept. However, I am delighted to say that it was not me this time but Jenny Fardell who protested about the speed at which we were supposed to be singing entirely unfamiliar music. Yey! I didn’t have to feel like a complete numpty all alone. Anne joined us with what she had of a voice as she didn’t feel she should be singing the higher notes of the alto 1 part and, actually, once she had set us on the right path, it wasn’t at all bad. Susan, on her own on soprano 2, had a very awkward bit of unexpectedly dotted note-age to sing but she managed very well indeed. The same cannot be said of the tenor 2s who have the same nastiness in their part but I think they were getting the hang of it by the time we moved on. Why I ever worry about making an idiot of myself when we have a tenor section I don’t know. (Love you, boysies).
We then went over Steal Away and Go Down, Moses. The first isn’t too difficult but I did catch Anne giving me an old-fashioned look at one point so I think I must have been on the wrong note – I don’t think it at all, I KNOW I was on the wrong note. We were singing “Ah-ha-ha-ha” at the time and I should have been singing an E to an F# but was probably on a C or something. Who knows? Well, Anne would know. Anne always knows. That’s why I was subjected to one of her OFLs. Quite scary they are, btw. Go Down, Moses isn’t too bad until the alto 2s have a little joiny-up bit here and there. Jen and I were going down too low. Once someone had pointed out that we were supposed to be singing the same thing as the basses (told you we were manly, you had no idea just how manly, had you?) it was a little easier. Ah, well! It was only week two on these things. All will be well...
...eventually.
Coffee time and Arno was telling us about a show he’d been to see at the weekend (in Holland? I think so) which was about the Dutch contribution to the resistance movement during WWII. It took place in a huge hangar (the play, not the Dutch resistance movement) and the audience sat on a moving platform so the action took place all around them and they were turned to watch it instead of the stage revolving. Clever stuff, eh? At the end an actual plane taxied in through the doors (bringing the queen home) and then someone (the queen? Perhaps not) jumped on a motorbike and sped away up the runway. Sounds great, doesn’t it? A spectacle and a half, I’d guess. I was in a play at Edinburgh Airport a few years ago but we didn’t get to use a plane. Or a motorbike. Tsk.
Better stop now and get meself dressed. It is not a very nice day and I don’t know what I’m going to do with it (hubby was supposed to be coming home but now cannot do so); however I suppose I should at least go and buy some comestibles. Morningside calls. Ooo, and I have two pairs of shoes to get re-heeled. Things are looking up.
Au revoir, mes petits choux.
Thursday, 8 September 2011
Why did I bother?
Oh, dear me. I have just read over that last and most feeble of contributions. What a waste of time. Clearly not of effort. I can’t believe I submitted such rubbish for your perusal. Next time I am in a hurry I shall think twice about blogging. Or maybe I will save myself the effort and not think about it at all.
True, there really wasn’t much to write about last Wednesday – not once I’d done me usual and mislaid all memory of anecdotal material. We went, we made some nice noises, we left. It wasn’t dull though (unlike my blog); we chuckled a fair bit as usual (but about what, Claire, about what?) and Christopher prodded me once or twice with a pencil.
Now, I promised to write about Kay’s 40th birthday party. I say again, ‘40! Surely not.’ But, yes, dear reader, indeed - she has reached that great age without, it has to be said, much in the way of wear and tear to show for it but perhaps with some wisdom. (Perhaps. Not all of us who are considerably older are so blessed). Certainly in possession of a cracking sense of humour and a very sharp tongue, as I have often had occasion to mention. 40 isn’t all bad. In fact, it’s not at all bad. Life even looks quite rosy another decade on if I don’t wear my glasses to look in the mirror. Or expect to sport a bikini in public. (Damn. However, it may never have been a very good idea).
It was a great party. Lovely house. Lots of people. No children (what an excellent notion. Much as I love them. And all hail Kay’s mum and dad). Good nibbles. Copious amounts of alcohol. And a performance from those members of Rudsambee who managed to get there. There were 11 of us: Robin, upholding the virtuosity of the tenors alone, but with some sort of help from Jenny gallantly sight-reading at the foot of the stairs. (We sang in the hallway btw and a good place it was to warble, too). Arno and John, halfway up the stairs, represented the basses; Susan, Kay, Marie Claire and Heather, borrowed from the alto section, sang soprano by the front door and Anne, Natalie and I - with occasional interpolations from Jenny when she lost the tenor line – were the altos on the bottom step. (Well, I think Natalie was on the bottom step but I must be allowed a little poetic licence. For the flow, darlings, for the flow). All of the altos were in attendance. What does that tell you about altos?
We sang only four of the songs we’d rehearsed so as not to try the patience of our audience who, after all, had muchos drinking and talking to do. We started with Monateng Kapele, I think, followed by Akanamandla, (or it could have been the other way around – does it matter?? NO), then Island Spinning Song and, to finish, a grand rendition of Kay’s favourite, Son ar Chistr. Lost all Ollie’s refinements – or nearly all, we did manage some quieter bits and a crescendo or two – but we made a good sound for such a reduced number and my, did we have fun! Which was the point.
And our efforts were much appreciated. Which was great.
No time (or opportunity, rather) for the world premiere of my Meisterwerk, but – never mind, eh? It’ll mean I have something new for our next choir party-piece party. And I can spend a bit of time refining it. Of course this means I have no excuse if it’s rubbish.
Hmmm.
Jenny, Arno and I were the last to leave. Hope we didn’t outstay our welcome but it wasn’t THAT late. Jenny, who lives down the road from Kay had brought her car (?) and offered me, who lives on the other side of town, a lift home (??). I was most grateful (having shoes I don’t often wear rubbing holes in my feet), though somewhat nonplussed (not an unusual feeling when in Mrs Fardell’s company) and I accepted her offer with unattractive alacrity (some small protest but not enough to make her rethink). Arno lives nearish to me so Jen offered him a lift, too. He was more of a gentleman (no, really) and said he was quite happy to walk. Once he understood that Jenny was taking me almost past his door he realised he was not at all happy to walk. So off we went all three.
Good night.
Goodnight.
True, there really wasn’t much to write about last Wednesday – not once I’d done me usual and mislaid all memory of anecdotal material. We went, we made some nice noises, we left. It wasn’t dull though (unlike my blog); we chuckled a fair bit as usual (but about what, Claire, about what?) and Christopher prodded me once or twice with a pencil.
Now, I promised to write about Kay’s 40th birthday party. I say again, ‘40! Surely not.’ But, yes, dear reader, indeed - she has reached that great age without, it has to be said, much in the way of wear and tear to show for it but perhaps with some wisdom. (Perhaps. Not all of us who are considerably older are so blessed). Certainly in possession of a cracking sense of humour and a very sharp tongue, as I have often had occasion to mention. 40 isn’t all bad. In fact, it’s not at all bad. Life even looks quite rosy another decade on if I don’t wear my glasses to look in the mirror. Or expect to sport a bikini in public. (Damn. However, it may never have been a very good idea).
It was a great party. Lovely house. Lots of people. No children (what an excellent notion. Much as I love them. And all hail Kay’s mum and dad). Good nibbles. Copious amounts of alcohol. And a performance from those members of Rudsambee who managed to get there. There were 11 of us: Robin, upholding the virtuosity of the tenors alone, but with some sort of help from Jenny gallantly sight-reading at the foot of the stairs. (We sang in the hallway btw and a good place it was to warble, too). Arno and John, halfway up the stairs, represented the basses; Susan, Kay, Marie Claire and Heather, borrowed from the alto section, sang soprano by the front door and Anne, Natalie and I - with occasional interpolations from Jenny when she lost the tenor line – were the altos on the bottom step. (Well, I think Natalie was on the bottom step but I must be allowed a little poetic licence. For the flow, darlings, for the flow). All of the altos were in attendance. What does that tell you about altos?
We sang only four of the songs we’d rehearsed so as not to try the patience of our audience who, after all, had muchos drinking and talking to do. We started with Monateng Kapele, I think, followed by Akanamandla, (or it could have been the other way around – does it matter?? NO), then Island Spinning Song and, to finish, a grand rendition of Kay’s favourite, Son ar Chistr. Lost all Ollie’s refinements – or nearly all, we did manage some quieter bits and a crescendo or two – but we made a good sound for such a reduced number and my, did we have fun! Which was the point.
And our efforts were much appreciated. Which was great.
No time (or opportunity, rather) for the world premiere of my Meisterwerk, but – never mind, eh? It’ll mean I have something new for our next choir party-piece party. And I can spend a bit of time refining it. Of course this means I have no excuse if it’s rubbish.
Hmmm.
Jenny, Arno and I were the last to leave. Hope we didn’t outstay our welcome but it wasn’t THAT late. Jenny, who lives down the road from Kay had brought her car (?) and offered me, who lives on the other side of town, a lift home (??). I was most grateful (having shoes I don’t often wear rubbing holes in my feet), though somewhat nonplussed (not an unusual feeling when in Mrs Fardell’s company) and I accepted her offer with unattractive alacrity (some small protest but not enough to make her rethink). Arno lives nearish to me so Jen offered him a lift, too. He was more of a gentleman (no, really) and said he was quite happy to walk. Once he understood that Jenny was taking me almost past his door he realised he was not at all happy to walk. So off we went all three.
Good night.
Goodnight.
Friday, 2 September 2011
Here's the thing...
...am off to Germany to visit Husband any minute now so this will have to be speedy. I’ll give you something to be getting on with and then try and write more later in the week – report on Kay’s lovely party etc, when I have time to do it justice.
I was at work yesterday – most unusual for a Thursday – which is why I didn’t get this done, having left my ironing (another unusual occurrence) and packing until last minute, of course and having to do that last night as well as prepare pounds of plums and rhubarb for jam-making so I can keep it in the fridge while I’m away to stop it all from going mouldy. That is a terrible sentence but no time to change it now.
Wednesday. An improvement in numbers but still lots of people away doing other things – mostly work-related now, I think, rather than holiday. Nicos is back from his homeland at last – looking very healthy (Greek weather must be better than Scottish, I think) and it was lovely to see him and hear that – what was it?... captivating, that was the word, voice again. We have, of course, lost Anna-Lauren to waiting-for-baby. She is going to take a few months off – quite reasonably. We’ll miss her. And we learned that Harriet will not be with us for Christmas concerts as her brother is getting married in Australia – how thoughtless – and she will have to be there instead of with us. Quite some sacrifice, I’m sure you’ll agree. What we will do without both Harriet and AL I have no idea. I feel a bit of temporary recruitment coming on. Any offers?
The Lord and Master has found us some Negro spirituals, as arranged by Michael Tippet, to sing and lovely they are, too. We tried two on Weds – Steal Away and Go Down, Moses. Both have a German translation for some reason. I can’t remember having come across any German-speaking slaves in my extensive reading on the subject but maybe I missed something. We are not using the translation, you will be relieved to hear.
There – I must dash. Apologies for pathetic effort.Will do more on return (if I remember – no promises).
Have a good weekend.
I was at work yesterday – most unusual for a Thursday – which is why I didn’t get this done, having left my ironing (another unusual occurrence) and packing until last minute, of course and having to do that last night as well as prepare pounds of plums and rhubarb for jam-making so I can keep it in the fridge while I’m away to stop it all from going mouldy. That is a terrible sentence but no time to change it now.
Wednesday. An improvement in numbers but still lots of people away doing other things – mostly work-related now, I think, rather than holiday. Nicos is back from his homeland at last – looking very healthy (Greek weather must be better than Scottish, I think) and it was lovely to see him and hear that – what was it?... captivating, that was the word, voice again. We have, of course, lost Anna-Lauren to waiting-for-baby. She is going to take a few months off – quite reasonably. We’ll miss her. And we learned that Harriet will not be with us for Christmas concerts as her brother is getting married in Australia – how thoughtless – and she will have to be there instead of with us. Quite some sacrifice, I’m sure you’ll agree. What we will do without both Harriet and AL I have no idea. I feel a bit of temporary recruitment coming on. Any offers?
The Lord and Master has found us some Negro spirituals, as arranged by Michael Tippet, to sing and lovely they are, too. We tried two on Weds – Steal Away and Go Down, Moses. Both have a German translation for some reason. I can’t remember having come across any German-speaking slaves in my extensive reading on the subject but maybe I missed something. We are not using the translation, you will be relieved to hear.
There – I must dash. Apologies for pathetic effort.Will do more on return (if I remember – no promises).
Have a good weekend.
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