All About Nothing

We had no rehearsal this week. Several people were sick or tired (or both) so Ollie decided we should all have a week off and meet again next Wednesday with some new music and some new faces. However, I feel I must write a few words at least in order to keep up the blog-count. Once it starts dropping, as we have seen in the past, there is no hope for it and it falls and falls and finds it as hard to get back up again as my voice does from the depths of alto-2-I-don’t-think-so-make-that-tenor-1 parts. And (see previous blogs if necessary), I reiterate, that is HARD.

What can I tell you about instead? I did nothing on Wednesday night although free to do whatever I fancied. Lazy? Unimaginative? Me? Oh, well, go on then, perhaps I am. Of course I may have done something quite exciting and simply forgotten all about it but I think not. Speaking of forgetting all about things, I actually forgot my PIN number the other day; the one I use all the time, the one I know as well as I know my own name. What a numpty. How did that happen? The gaping, four digit space in my brain – well, two digit, slightly less agape, I had remembered the first couple of numbers – was filled again pretty quickly, thank heaven, but oh, it’s a bit scary. I have been thinking very hard about remembering things since then and can report that, so far, all seems as per (i.e. a little raggedy at times but nothing too concerning); however, if, at any point in the near future, you think I am a-slip mentally – if you can tell, that is - please leave a comment on the blog and I will take immediate action (more crosswords and Sudoku or something).

Yesterday I did some gardening. This followed a trundle to-and-from Craiglockhart for a tennis session. Impressive, eh? Yes, but just how badly did I play? Oh, my! Maybe three or four shots to be quite proud of but as for the rest... and, unfortunately, most (OK, all) of the other ladies who attend this session are better players than I am and some of them are a little inclined to tut, albeit sotto voce (if one can tut in such a manner), which doesn’t make me play any more competently I can assure you. I am going to persevere, though, because otherwise I’ll never improve and they will just have to put up with me. Interestingly, the very best players (very good indeed) are less likely to display frustration and are full of encouragement. I suppose their competitiveness is under control due to winning on a regular basis (unless they have me as a partner) while others feel they have something to prove. Anyway, I am much more relaxed with the people I play with on a Tuesday and I still play like a dog half the time... an old dog; old dog/new tricks. Oh dear, does this mean there is no hope for me?

So, the gardening. Only the front garden. This is manageable (unlike the back which I look out on in despair) and I smartened things up quite well. There are lots of snowdrops and the bluebells are coming; things are a-stir and how lovely it was to be out there in the warm sun, working really rather hard. I even got the ladder out to cut away some stuff (note my expertise in nomenclature) from around the window. I filled the brown bin up to the top so had to stop though there is still more to be done. Ivy, for example, is invading from around the more inaccessible side – naturally – so I must get out there and saw it off at the bottom before it can make its way into the sitting room by way of under-the-window. It appears to be making a good job of insinuating itself between the stone, the mortar and the wood of the frame. Not good. Not good at all. Bring me my trusty blade.

I spoiled all this healthy living by going out in the early evening yesterday and not returning until the early morning today, having spent the intervening time with friends who practise drinking much harder and more regularly than I do but with whom I think I kept up fairly well. I had a lovely time but genuinely thought I was going out for an hour or two for a drink or two, not for seven hours and several bottles – you can imagine how I am regretting this behaviour now and vowing not to do it again. Often in my life I have made vows of a similar sort. Often I have broken them. I have no will-power or – let’s face it – common-sense. I am, in short, a fool.

But you know that already.

Now, I have to go into town to collect some rings that have been in the jewellers for surgery. Why is it that the rest of me is very little, if at all, bigger than I was in my youth and yet my fingers seem to have got fatter? This seems mighty unfair. And is definitely rather costly.
Adieu, for the nonce, my dear Reader(s).

Your fond (and fairly efficient), Blogetteer.

Pitch(ure) Perfect

Well, OK, maybe not but not bad at all: Lovely concert at the Portrait Gallery beneath all the newly scrubbed great and good; all very shiny-clean and gilded. Didn’t get much chance to look around but really liked what I saw of the new café area – very open and bright and welcoming. Must go back for a better nosey (perhaps I’ll peruse a picture or two as well. What a revolutionary!) before too long.

We didn’t get much time to rehearse because not everyone was able to arrive by 5 o’clock. Eventually we ended up doing a fair bit of practising in front of our gathering audience but they didn’t seem to mind too much; indeed, why should they? One and a bit concerts for the price of none can’t be bad, can it?

Naturally there was a dodgy moment or three – Abendlied went better than expected, I think, though I messed up the bit I had been telling Jenny on Wednesday I found perfectly easy – typical! At this point the Tenor 1 part (yes, Jen and I were growling again) comes in on the same note as the Altos have just finished on (or started on or something) only, in spite of how it’s written in the music, we should be an octave lower. I came in merrily on exactly the same note as the Altos, a whole octave too high and when I realised what I had done I had to swoop down to where I was supposed to be rather too quickly for any elegance of tone. Jenny said she didn’t notice but this was her last concert (sob, wail, gnashing of teeth and tearing of hair) so perhaps she was being kind. Or perhaps her hearing is not what it was after 5 years of me screeching in her ear...

The Lully Entrées were wonderful – our little band quite superb and I echo Anne and Harriet in their delight that the band was not just a band but consisted of three choir members who just moved along to where their instruments waited for them, played brilliantly and then returned to sing with us again. ‘Twas special. And well done to a very colourful Chris for staying in both his mind and body and producing a splendid solo – I knew he would.

Robin came along to sing with us after all which was a joy. We had the pleasure of his company in spite of his having had a trying day. The Tenor section was much stronger as a result – there would only have been a lonely two of them without him. Then there was the joy of his solo in Kiisu Miisu [see below] which gets better every time, (and, while I’m writing about this, Susan’s miaowing during this song has taken on a new life recently – she says she is doing it In Memoriam for Rufus and Rosie; fabulous stuff it is) >>> back to Robin ... a solo Ollie would have had to do otherwise (perhaps he was disappointed to see Robin running in, shirt-tails flapping and hair a-flop, but I don’t think so) and he joined us for the meal afterwards too which was lovely. (Having Robin there, I mean, though the meal was good too).




The pesky Lamb was up to its usual tricks, gambolling off out of control (tune) here and there but we managed to shepherd it back under some sort of order before we finished.

Everything else was OK – some quite lovely, of course. The audience was a good size and seemed to enjoy themselves – though there was a fair bit of wandering in and out and not all of it quiet. Anne was glaring at people from her seat in the middle of them but, rather surprisingly considering Anne’s glare, this didn’t make much difference. Why people (mis-)behave like this I don’t know – especially during quieter songs. It wouldn’t be difficult to wait until there’s some applause before coming in or going out; we do get applause, quite a lot of it really and none of the songs is so long that the waiting would be unacceptably protracted. Ah well! People, eh?!

Post-concert almost all of us headed off to Vittoria’s on Leith Walk for a farewell-to-Jenny-and-Anne meal. We thought it was a farewell-to-Harriet meal as well but it turns out she’s not actually leaving us just yet. Oops. We tried to include her in the Irish Blessing at the end of the concert but she waved her hand rather desperately, mouthing "No, I’m not going," so we had to give up on that one. I’d made her a card, too but I’ll just keep it until she really does leave (which will be all too soon once she’s completed her PhD). It will be signed by Jenny who’ll be long gone and anyone else who decides to leave before Harriet (don’t you dare) which will be a bit odd but... well, this IS Rudsambee.

Cards and presents given (Anne got gardening vouchers and gin (!), Jenny a teddy in a Rudsambee t-shirt (inspired, Sebastian Arno! [apologies for the confusion]) and a voucher for the Queen’s Hall, (or actual tickets – anyway there’s a ukulele festival on there in April and I think the idea was that she might enjoy that (I love over-using brackets, don’t you?))) we said our sad goodbyes and headed home. Choir will not be the same without those two. There will be no Anne to organise us and to whip the women into shape when Ol has his hands full with the men (oo-er)... and I might have to be serious and well-behaved with no Jenny beside me to provoke into giggles and to giggle with. As to managing the singing without them, well…I think I’m going to have to do some growing up.

At my age, I ask you!

IT’S NOT FAIR (stamp, scowl, stamp again).

So that’s that. I did it – two blogs. Good me.

Maybe I shall start calling myself your blogetteer again.

P.S. Re last week’s blog and the mention of "dusty, scratchy amber stuff" – I meant amber-coloured. Do you, Mr Commentator, think I am a fool????????

Pre-Portrait Gallery

So – tomorrow night we sing at the Portrait Gallery for the first time since it was closed for refurbishment, however long ago that was… any ideas, Mr S?  [I think that's just shy of 3 years since we were last there] It is a lovely space to sing in and we used always to get good-sized audiences so we’ll see what the morrow brings and how/if things have changed.  We have to meet in the Educational Lunch Room!?!  At least, I think that’s what I heard.  Sounds awful, doesn't it?  When I eat my lunch I wish to enjoy my food, if at all possible, along with some idle chit-chat (always possible); on the odd (I use that word advisedly) occasion a meaningful discussion on a topical subject is acceptable but only if one’s lunch companions are really serious types who don’t understand the notion of a good natter.  I certainly don’t want educating while I eat – imagine what that would do to the digestion.

Anyway, tonight we sang through almost everything we will be singing tomorrow.  Note the ‘almost’.  It will be a fine day – and probably the end of the world – when we actually go through the whole programme the day before a performance.  That would be far too cosy and safe, wouldn’t it?  Can’t be having us cosy and safe.

I arrived a little early for once and was delighted to come upon an intense rehearsal of the musical accompaniment to the Lully pieces.  All three of our musicians had turned up and it was sounding really rather good.  Tamsin was almost asleep, having had a looooooong day but still managed to pluck her harp strings with extraordinary energy.  It was lovely to hear the three of them play together at long last – we’ve had Nikos on his guitar and Sebastian on his cello but never Nikos and Sebastian and never Tamsin at all.  Once everyone turned up we spent a fair bit of time putting the whole thing together and it’s going to be fun.  The basses – the three that are left (I forgot about Luke last week because he wasn’t there – that’s a bit insulting, isn’t it?) - were a little hesitant at first and they do have a tricky time coming in in the right place bit they were certainly sounding OK by the time we finished.  Chris has a solo in the first (second) Entrée (oo! An  accent.  Thank you) and sings it splendidly.  Usually.  For some reason, on one of our run-throughs, he went completely and horribly wrong for no discernible reason at all…. one second he was singing merrily away and then came a wrong note and then another one and then…. well, there were no more notes, just the wrong one repeated rather a lot of times.  Oh, it was funny.  Kay was beside herself and she wasn’t the only one.  It is so very hard to sing when killing oneself laughing.  There was many a squawk and splutter.  Poor Christopher had no idea at all how things went so badly wrong.  I think it was a sort of out-of-body experience.  Let’s hope he stays well inside his body tomorrow evening. [Poor Christopher realised later that he had mysteriously started singing the next page of the piece]

Abendlied was a bit of a nightmare.  I had very little idea what I was doing first time round but had remembered it by the second go, only finding it pretty tricky to sing with any confidence or gusto – gusto isn’t quite what’s required for this one but it does go a long way towards making it sound as if we know what we’re singing.  And I’m not sure we do, not really.  Ah well.  Another practise tomorrow and maybe we’ll get through it without too many nasties.  Ah, the wishful-thinking phenomenon…. where would we be without it?

Oh yes, forgot to mention that Ollie’s friend, Andrew, came to beat a drum and tap a tambourine along with us in the Lully pieces.  He learns quickly, he does.  And he knows Ol well enough to be able to say to him, “I do need to know the difference between…” (hand flap) “And…” (almost imperceptibly different hand flap).  Don’t we all?  The percussion adds just that little je ne sais what to the proceedings.  Good stuff.

Well, I promised you two reports this week and I have delivered numero uno.  Short and sweet (uninformative) but very much in evidence.  Clever me.  How much are you willing to wager against me managing  the second?  I shall do my best to confound your expectations but

don’t hold your breath waiting….

You cannot just whip out a cello…

...you have to prepare it.  ‘Course you do:

“Do you cover it in rosin, or something?” asks Robin.  “Well, how should I know.  I don’t know anything about stringed instruments.”

While this may be true I am quite sure he is aware that a rosin-covered cello would be a) rather dusty, b) rather scratched and c) no better sounding than a rosin-free one.

And surely there’s enough to do as it is with spikey things to be lowered, strings to be tuned, bows to be tightened…(and yes, OK, a bit of the dusty, scratchy amber stuff comes in handy at this point).

The cello in question was (is) Sebastian’s and he was preparing said cello in order to accompany our rendition of Lully’s Entrees de Ballet (no accent again – my lap-top ain’t ‘alf picky).  We will be singing these at the Portrait Gallery on Thursday (what? When?  Aaaaagh!) with Tamsin on harp, Nikos on guitar and Ol’s friend Andrew (who, a propos of nothing - still no accent - knits a mean cable-stitch, btw) on tambourine.  Neither Tamsin nor Nikos were present on Wednesday and Andrew only ever gets to practise with us last minute, so we have yet to try singing this with all the noise going on.  There will only be two basses left to sing and only two tenors as well because we’ll be missing (big-time) our Robin so there will need to be some belting-out of tunes and lyrics from the remaining men.  John and Arno were being a bit shy on Wednesday.  No room for that sort of behaviour, lads.  Especially as there’s been talk of the instruments being amplified.  You need to make yourselves heard and I know you can do it.  (Don’t worry about getting the notes right, anything will do as long as it’s in tune).

So, that was a small diversion.  What I was going to say at the beginning of this blog goes as follows:  It is just as well I am not the sort of person who makes resolutions at the beginning of the year.  I am far too busy thinking about all the things I didn’t achieve in the previous fifty-two weeks and am also unlikely to acieve in the following twelve months.  If I did make resolutions I dare submit that one of them would have been something to do with getting my blogging done more regularly and on a Wednesday night or Thursday morning instead of -  well, instead of what I do.  You may have noticed that my first couple of 2012 blogs were, indeed, written and presented with some despatch (you may have noticed but that rather depends on whether or not Postman Chris was doing his job with matching enthusiasm) in spite of the lack of resolution (!); you may also have noticed that I fell off my blogging wagon last week – after so short a time, shameful ain’t it? - and found myself far too busy (ahem) to apply myself to literary creativity (ahem again).  I promise forthwith to try and behave as if I actually had made the resolution as outlined above and am actually the sort of person who would make great efforts to keep it.

In an effort to make up for my failure last week I will (maybe) send you two reports next.  One after the rehearsal on Wednesday and one after the concert on Thursday.  This will be Jenny’s last concert with us (just what am I supposed to do without her?) and we are going out for a farewell meal afterwards so there should be lots to tell you.

We have a new soprano, by the way.  Yey!  Her name is Luana.  I know nothing else about her yet except that she is young and can sing but no doubt that will change.  I’ll let you know…….

Now, some altos, please.  Where are all those keen but under-employed warblers?  I really can’t manage the growly-girly bits all by myself…I can get low enough but then I struggle to get back up again.  It’s like the break between a chest voice and a head voice but more extreme; as if my voice has fallen into a deep well with sides too sheer and slippery for it to have any chance of hauling itself out. 

And no bucket.

I could drown down there.

We could do with a couple of tenors, too.

Perhaps I should get my mother to pray to St Anthony.  He’s always finding things for her.  But then, those are things she’s lost in the first place.  I’ve no idea if he’s able to start the process from scratch.