...

Can’t think of a title. Always have a title. Perhaps several glasses of Friday fizz are to blame. And no food except crispy snacks and chocolate.

What a disgrace.

And tomorrow I need to be able to sing because we are doing our last-ever-recording with Ol as Lord and Master.

Oh dear.

It is only 10 o’clock or so but sleep seems a sensible option. However... surely it’s too early. And I need to get at least half of this written before I climb the wooden hill to Bedfordshire.

Is it two weeks since last I wrote? I believe it is. Week one I could have done it but didn’t know what to say and week two I could have done it but was in London and then Hungary and then Slovakia and then Austria and then Germany so it was all too complicated. No, no – that’s all wrong. Week one was week two. Week one which I didn’t write about because I didn’t know what to say and was travelling about all over the place. Week two I wasn’t there, was I, because I was in all those other places so I could have written about my holiday but not about choir practice. That’s all sorted now, then. Thank goodness for clarity of mind.

Tomorrow we hit the Reid Concert Hall, 11.45 a.m. sharp (hopefully the last time all day we will be in that mode), ready to begin recording at 12 noon. I presume the 15 minutes is for a warm-up but it may just be there to make sure we are all present by mid-day. I am working for an hour or so in the morning so could well be a little late. If you see a distracted creature rushing through the Meadows at around five to twelve tomorrow, croaking and warbling a badly-tuned arpeggio or two as she goes, that will be me. I will endeavour to remember my music folder.

Jenny is coming to sing with us (knew she couldn’t stay away for long) and she won’t have hers, will she? She never did when she was actually a member of the choir so what hope now she’s left? One of us must make an effort. Having said that, having my music is going to prove a little tricky as someone went off with it the other night and left me theirs. I think it was probably Heather. She is supposed to be an organised person but I suspect she’s anything but... just grabs any folder that takes her fancy and waltzes off into the night. How she could mistake my battered old file, chewed at the corners and shedding loose sheets left, right and all over for the one I had to bring home, shiny new and neatly ring-bound, I’ll never know - but she did. Or someone did. I may be maligning the poor girl; in which case, heartfelt apologies and a compensatory hug. I am tempted to keep the shiny file. While I don’t really, actually, honestly, chew the corners of mine it does look rather as if the mice have got at it – I suppose they may have – and the dog-eared music inside it is scribbled with blog-reminding messages instead of singing instructions whereas the one I have now is (shiny and) full of pristine sheets marked only with useful hints as to dynamics and expression and phrasing. Could be handy, don’t you think? Especially tomorrow.

OK, enough for now – it is 11 o’clock. Still early but I think I have earned my bed-time. More after the recording. And the dinner towards which we will be heading immediately on finishing. The rest of this will be an After Dinner Blog and I your After Dinner Blogetteer. A new career? I need one...

Sunday 22:04 Very nearly bed-time again. Not sleeping well (no change there, then) and a busy day which included gardening and tennis and two long walks, in the heat. And I’m getting a cold – how the ****???? So sleepy. But must finish this, must finish this, must finish this...

Yesterday was great fun. Hard work, but not too onerous (unless you’re Kay, who was feeling the pressure). Sadly, being stuck in the Reid Concert Hall for several hours on one of the few sunny days Edinburgh has to offer per year was a real downside to the exercise but we got a half hour break in which to sit out in Bristo Square and, once we’d finished, we sat in the garden at Teviot, supping alcoholic beverages until it was time for dinner (at The Nile Valley. Yum, by the way – if you’ve not been there, go), so it could have been worse.

As for the recording – all seemed to go to plan. We got through the pieces in reasonable time, finishing a little earlier than planned. A small hiccup when it transpired that one of the mics had given up the ghost but, with a bit of tweaking of those still operating, the problem was overcome without holding us up for more than a few minutes. Anne came back to play the piano for us – for The Seal Lullaby and Nu tändas tusen juleljus – and the harpsichord for the two Lully pieces. Sebastian played his cello, beautifully as ever for the same pieces and Tamsin was there to play her harp and to help out with the squeaky-high singing bits which Kay was panicking about performing on her own (for no good reason, she can do it brilliantly but I daresay the prospect is a very scary one). Jenny came back, as mentioned above; sans most of her music, as mentioned above, but perfectly contented to make the tunes up where she had forgotten them. Behm also returned having been tricked into joining us by Ollie who, some days ago, casually asked him if he’d any plans for this Saturday and when told no, immediately claimed him as a much-needed extra tenor. It was lovely to see them all.

Most importantly, considering why we had gathered, was that Helen was there. Helen was there to do the recording, along with her friend – Ali – and was forced to join in a few songs as well, much to her disgust. I do hope that they managed to get enough material to make a reasonable CD [initial reports are positive]. We did about three (is it a ‘take’ when it’s singing or is that just in films?) whatevertheyares [yes, takes] of each piece and somewhere within those three efforts it is to be hoped that there are enough accurate bars to string together into a whole piece of reasonably professional-sounding music. With one thing and another our rehearsal time has been a bit curtailed and we were probably not quite as well prepared as we might have been but we worked hard and were quite frighteningly focussed and quiet for several hours – which is a real feat for us, let me tell you – so I think we deserve some success. If anyone can turn our efforts into a sellable item it is our Helen, so I look forward to hearing the results. Now we just have to come up with a title and I have to come up with a design and then – Bob’s in the building.

Dinner was fun – there were fourteen of us altogether – poor Heather, who did all the organising, was unable to join us and had to go home instead (to a barbeque, so it could have been worse) and Anne and Tamsin left once they’d finished making their contributions earlier in the day; Douglas, Behm and Sebastian all disappeared without explanation, but the rest of us, at Arno’s suggestion, graced the basement of the aforementioned eatery with our rambunctious presence and had a great time. The conversations were wide-ranging and, at one end of the table at least, somewhat dubious of subject matter [highlight was probably Helen reading out product reviews of Veet for Men from Amazon and if that doesn't sound hilarious and dubious, look them up!]. We had the place to ourselves for a fair time but then some other poor souls came to join us and had to contend with our noisy hilarity (is that tautology? Can’t decide so it’s staying). But at least we didn’t sing.

We had to say goodbye to Sarah who has been with us such a short time, but a new job means she will no longer be free on Wednesday evenings so she has had to bid us farewell. She has been a lovely presence and we will miss her but wish her all the best in her future endeavours and will be delighted, I’m sure I speak on behalf of us all, to welcome her back anytime to parties and even to the choir itself if she is able to re-join one day. Having spent some time recording The Irish Blessing we didn’t find it in ourselves to sing it all over again at her. I don’t suppose she has any idea what a lucky escape she had.

Speaking of the Irish blessing: at my suggestion we altered the last words of our usual version. My Irish mother gets very upset when she hears "...in the palm of his hand" because she insists it should be "...in the hollow...". If she is going to have to listen to this CD (which she is, like it or not) I think it only fair not to torture her. Luckily I got my (her) way about this as several other people thought my (her) version a better one. Unfortunately Jenny has not been at rehearsals. She has been singing "palm" for years and years and years. Yesterday she mostly sang "pollow".

Onto a third page and ready to fall asleep over the keyboard...

Good night, Readers-mine. Until next time. Sleep tight and squash the bed-bugs.

xx