Such a full-on weekend and now I’m so tired I’m sitting here doing this instead of attending my Pilates class. I usually have to have a very good excuse or a very bad illness to do that so you see what burning the candle at both ends (and melting it a little in the middle) does to someone of my advanced years... probably dancing for several hours in ridiculously high heels on Saturday night was less of a good idea than it seemed at the time, too.
On top of all that a delivery arrived at work today on two palettes; 30 boxes, 28 of which weighed 17kgs apiece, all of which were left outside the shop on the pavement - as is the way with things transported atop wooded platforms – and all of which I had to carry inside and pile up in any space I could find where the danger of them toppling onto our customers was not too great. It transpired later that we had had exactly twice the number of things we’d requested delivered by mistake. I thought there was a lot. I could have left half of it where it was and waited for it to be collected but... I didn’t know that until I got it inside, did I?
But, hey! If I were less tired and more inclined to Pilate I would fail (yet again) to Blog so my exhaustion is your silver-lining... she writes, to no one. One silver-lining going spare, then.
We are singing Christmas songs. There is not much time left. It is a little scary, especially as there seem to be quite a few people away. Just as well most of what we are singing is not new. This does not necessarily mean it is easy, however. We spent a lot of time on Nyathi Onyuol on Wednesday and I am not sure quite how we managed to sing it last year as everyone who did seemed to have precious little idea of how it should sound. I remember it as having been rather scary. I said this just as we all thought we’d finished with it for the evening, prompting the Boy Wonder to demand we sang it again as a measure against panic and all the other choir members to moan at me for my big mouth. Anyway, I am much more sure of what I’m supposed to be singing now so I think it was worth it.
We had Ollie’s Polish teacher, Izabella, (did I get that right?) [you did now!] to coach us in singing Hej, hej, Lelija! and, my oh my, did we need coaching. The BW had done a pretty good job but there were several words that we’d not got right at all. It took ages to go through it all and, although Isabella (did I get that right?) was pretty happy with us in the long run and seemed to think that Polish folk would understand what we are singing, I’m not sure any of us feel that confident about it. The song needs the Polish words, though, because – a little like The Swallow and the Bells, if you remember from last year’s blog - the English ones are a disaster. Unfortunately, English speaking mouths are not made to pronounce Polish sounding words. A lovely girl, that Izabella-did-I-get-it-right? I think she might even have joined in a bit of the singing as I suggested she should. She used to sing in a choir, she told me, and then got her confidence knocked by a perfectionist musician boyfriend. I know the feeling and it is one to be ignored.
My friend, Kirsty, latest Rudsambee recruit, came here on Saturday morning to go over some of the words and music, having such a lot to learn in such a very short time and imagining that I could help!! It was very good for me, too, actually. I realised just how careless it is easy to become (especially about pronunciation) and also that I knew what I was doing in places where I would probably have said that I didn’t. Very illuminating and I hope we’ll repeat the exercise as it will obviously benefit me as well as her.
And make me feel very good and very smug.
Adieu.
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