New faces

A new choir member; Sarah, alto, keen to return (hooray!). It was a really lovely rehearsal. Great atmosphere.

Kirsty did a rather good warm-up, just silly enough and very useful and then we got down to business. Firstly we sang Fog, beautiful work by Arno as always and Harriet did the wail-y bit all by herself and very effectively. Ollie then suggested we should sing something else we know quite well and, looking at the last concert programme, gave us a choice between O Lux Beatissima and the last verse of Une Puce. O Lux... is pretty straightforward but as for The Flea, only a very few of us are more than vaguely acquainted with its final pesky little stanza. Sebastian was heard to put in a word for Abendlied which we can hardly be said to know at all. Am I missing something? Is my interpretation of the words ‘know quite well’ different from other people’s? Having given us the choice the Boy Wonder then took it away again and insisted on Une Puce, which I happen to know very well indeed so could manage without looking at my music which was just as well as the BW had no copy (no Fog either; what does he do with all his music?) and I had to act as music stand for the duration. We sang verse one and the chorus-y bit through once to give those who’d never sung it before some idea of how it goes and then we went over verse four several times until people had almost got the words right and managed to fit them to the music. Progress indeed.

We sang the Lully pieces from the last concert. At this point Ol was to be seen nodding and winking (well, maybe not) at Nikos who was, at first, determinedly ignoring him and then pulled a questioning, and slightly triumphant face, as he cottoned on to what was required. He wasn’t going to get away with whatever it was, though, “There’s one in the other room,” said Ollie, grinning. Nikos visibly drooped. “He’s had a hard day,” explained our Lord and Master, grinning even more while Nikos, dejectedly, went off to find the guitar he really didn’t seem to want to play. But play it he did and with some verve and vigour for one who was doing it so reluctantly. Having sung through these pieces and worked at refining one of them we moved on to a third - the fourth. Still in Nonsense (yet another language we can claim familiarity with now) and as short and silly as the other two, it is also as much fun to sing and was delightfully easy to sight-read (page turns excepted). I actually had my specs with me and perched on the end of my nose instead of residing in my coat pocket – no doubt this helped.
More fun with Mateusz for the girlers and Zikr for the boysies – oh, ours is a struggle but ever so slowly we are making progress. It is two steps forward and one back because we can’t seem to remember week to week what we are doing but, as I say, there is a dim little light at the end of the tunnel towards which we are inching. The men returned to perform Zikr for us and it is sounding brilliant [miraculously!]. Full to the brim of brio and pizzazz. Nikos has a very high bit to sing and does it so well and they all look as though they’re having a whale of a time so it’s very amusing to watch. Good work, Lads. Must try harder, Lassies. There’s a turn-around.

We nearly all stayed for tea and coffee which has become rather unusual for some reason. Perhaps it was because I had made brownies????? They were a bit weird having been made with three different kinds of chocolate (one with ginger in it, one with fruits of the forest and one flavoured with rose water!) but they went down a treat and were complimented fulsomely. Unfortunately, I will never have just that combination of chocolate in my cupboard again so they were a real one-off (quite honestly, most of the things I cook are because I make them up as I go along) – I think that might be a bit of a disappointment to one or two choir members... sorry, mes amies. I had made brownies because both Ollie and Chris had had birthdays during the week. We howled at them in extraordinary style.
Today I had a terrible experience which I am going to share with you before I finish because I will never get over it and yet here I am making the time and effort, amidst my suffering, to write this blog and I feel you should appreciate it... I went to get passport photos taken.

OMG.

I have torn them up. I know perfectly well that I am never going to get a good passport photo. I know there is no such thing – especially as one is no longer allowed to smile (my only hope) but I am sure that someone or some machine somewhere can take one of me in which I look a little, tiny bit like ME and not some ‘orrible old crone of at least 65, with no shape to the head (where had the top of my head gone? I know it’s there) and a saggy, saggy, saggy face. Do all those people who tell me I don’t look my age really mean that I look much older than I am? I think they must.

I have spent far too much time since I got home checking my visage in various mirrors around the house. In some I look very old indeed and in others not. Which of them do I believe? Which should be sent charity-shopwards? When should I book in for surgery?

And when will I have the courage to try again?