Singing, cakes, family and flowers

I'm a bit exhausted, though have had a lazy few hours today and am mostly recovered. On Saturday, our choir (the one of which I'm chair) had its Come and Sing of the Mozart Requiem. This is when we invite the general public who want to ... well, come and sing... to pay £15, for which they get hire of a score and refreshments. We rehearse for two and a half hours, have coffee, tea and cake etc, and then perform it. All the profits go to our chosen charity, which this year was Edinburgh Direct Aid International, an all-volunteer charity which sends aid to victims of war and famine, sets up schools for children whose schools have been destroyed by war, and so on. 

We had... not sure, but I think probably 160-170 people come along. Maybe more? My main part was on the few days before and on the day, to provide paper cups, plates, milk, sugar, stirrers etc, plus enough cakes and other goodies (much of which was contributed by the choir members) for a somewhat unknown number of singers. We'd sold 150 tickets, but then more people turned up on the day. 

Mr L and I (well, largely he) set everything out in the hall - tables, chairs, tablecloths, jugs etc - not to say the food, in the morning. 

I had brought quite a lot more extra food than I thought would be necessary  - some baked by me, some bought, some gluten-free - but was slightly alarmed to see the first of the hungry hordes (I mean, not that hungry, surely - it was only 4.30) pile their plates with goodies. I had visions of there being nothing left for the last in the queue! However, in a loaves-and-fishes sort of way, it seemed to work out all right, and people were very enthusiastic about the catering. Once the hour's tea break was over there was literally nothing left on the tables except empty plates!

Anyway, it all went very well but we were quite tired by the end of it.

Daughter 2 was home (without her little one) for a flying visit , which was lovely. She had a school reunion at lunch on Saturday. Her main school friends arrived at our house at 9 am and had a nice chat before Mr L ran them up to the school. It seemed no time since they were all at our house for sleepovers, and there they were, all grown up (45-ish, impossibly) but all just the same. 

Later in the afternoon, she and Mr L were very helpful with the smooth running of the catering - filling up coffee pots and so on, and with the tidying up while we were performing. And then we had a lovely evening with her. 

On Sunday we had lunch at Swanston, with both daughters and Daughter 1's family, and then climbed the hill for a bit. 

It's not far from the city at all, but so peaceful. 

Here are Daughter 1 and her little ones. Not so little!

Today I had coffee with a friend in Saughton Park. 

It's approaching its full glory.

Which is pretty glorious. 

It's allium time. 

It's also allium time in my garden, 

and peony time. 

Different alliums. 

And lots of other flowers. 

And it's Minimalisation Monday. This week: a stoneware teapot stand which I used to use, but no longer do, and a vase that, many years ago, my mum liked at an antique fair and I bought for her birthday. I quite like it too and kept it for sentimental reasons, but... something has to go, and this week, these are on their way to a charity shop. 

 

Flowers, music and cakes

It's been a busy few weeks... well, months... well, years... but anyway, we carved out a day last week to visit Dawyck Botanic Gardens. We've been there in snowdrop season and in autumn colours season, but have never managed to go at rhododendron and azalea time before. It was sensational. 

They don't photograph well, but there were drifts of bluebells everywhere. 

The flowers were just perfect. 

This is the house whose garden it used to be. Rather nice!

And the mecanopsis!

So beautiful. 

It's otherwise been all about the music recently. I've had two concerts, with my two choirs, a fortnight apart, in the same church. One featured Benjamin Britten, not my favourite though he has his moments, but the second, last Saturday, was all Mozart - the Requiem plus some shorter pieces. Just sublime. 

Now - concentrate - the first choir - the one I'm chair of - is also doing Mozart's Requiem, this Saturday, but as a Come and Sing for charity. People buy tickets and are lent a score and are fed tea, coffee and cakes. This takes a lot of organising (about 150 tickets sold so far) and of course I'm doing a lot of it. I'm rather looking forward to its being over.

So my poor garden is somewhat neglected, and the quilt for Mr L hasn't been touched for quite a few weeks. I need to get my life back!

 

Have to keep busy...

Things are quietish around here. I've spent this afternoon happily and brainlessly sewing together strips of shirt for Mr Life's quilt - much easier than making stars. (The squares at the bottom do have four stripes, but the fourth, plain blue one, merges with the blue background.) Other than that, there's been a bit of socialising, a book group (that's mainly socialising too, though we do discuss the book...) and various walks. 

We still can't reliably get out of the street in the car.

For example, this was the entrance to our driveway this morning. 

However, fortunately there are plenty of buses. 

I'm sitting listening to Mozart's Vespers as I write this, since this is one of the pieces that one of my choirs is singing in May. It's always disappointing that doing this doesn't implant the music in one's brain as well as one would hope. It all sounds extremely familiar as one types away, but it's actually much better to follow along with the score. One of the other pieces we're doing is Britten's St Nicolas. I'm not a huge fan of Britten, especially the movement in this in which there's a famine and some boys are kidnapped and pickled (urgh!) for food. Nicolas rescues them in the nick of time, but still. As a squeamish vegetarian, I don't enjoy this movement. I've sung it before, but not for years, though I did remember about the pickled boys (trauma!). The piece does have some jolly bits with great shouty choruses from the men during storm scenes and so on. 

I wish that the kind people who comment on my blog all had blogs themselves. Looking at you, Virginia and Maureen! Then I would know more about them. Still, why do I have a blog? I'm just a bit compulsive in some respects. I do Duolingo in French, German and Scottish Gaelic (not making huge progress with the latter; I should really look up the grammar, which is not at all like that of any other language that I've studied). I somehow fall for the mustn't-lose-my-"streak" thing and can't bear to break it. No reason, really - but it's an incentive to keep going, even though the streak couldn't really matter less. Which reminds me... better do today's session. 

 

No rest for the reasonably good

You have no idea (or maybe you have) how much organisation it takes to make a big choir run smoothly. How did anyone do it before email? Or perhaps the real question is: was it much simpler before email - where every decision has to be run past the seven members of the committee? I, as chair, do most of the stuff. It would be easier just to be a dictator. 

It's even easier just to be a back-bencher, as I am in my other choir.

The picture above is my final (I hope) arrangement of the seating for the concert, just in soprano1, alto 2 etc order. The peculiar shape is because of the constraints of the church where we perform. For the previous two concerts I allocated specific seats to specific members, and of course this meant that some people weren't sitting beside their friends. Sigh. This time I'm trying a free-for-all (what could possibly...?) apart from some people who need to sit in the front, or whatever, for various reasons - mainly of infirmity. I do tend to think that at the point when I can't walk very well (for reasons of age, I mean) I'll probably bow out of the choir. I mean, I say that now (at 75). I may feel differently when it's me!

Son and family came for the weekend and we went to the Botanic Gardens light show with Daughter 1 and her offspring. Here we are standing in a tunnel of fairy lights. 

And here are the children toasting marshmallows. Which were a total rip-off -three big marshmallows on a stick for £7.50! This included a dribble of sauce, post-toasting. But the children enjoyed it. 

It was very pretty. 

And a bit wet. 

Another day they went to a climbing wall / trampoline place. Here is nimble Medium Granddaughter up a climby thing. Rather her than me. 

 

And in London, Daughter 2 took Littlest Granddaughter to see her daddy's company doing a children's show. Her daddy, meanwhile, has been in Birmingham most of the time since the beginning of October, doing a Christmas show, and will be there till mid-January. Daughter 2 has been doing a lot of single-parenting. 

And now I must go and write more Christmas cards. Still too busy!
 

On! On!

How is life so busy? How do other people manage to post every day? Anyway, I went down to London again on the train - nice views, see above - to try to be slightly useful to Daughter 2 while her husband is at the Birmingham Rep. I'm not terribly useful really, since Littlest Granddaughter reasonably enough prefers her mum to do things for her, rather than her elderly granny. However, I collected Littlest from school one day, did some dishes and cleaned out the guinea pigs. 

This is Chingford, where Daughter 2 and family now live. It's really quite nice - it doesn't feel at all like London, but rather like a small town. Which it was, of course, though has now been swallowed by London. But just along the road from D2's house you're in the Essex countryside. 

I did do a small amount of gardening, though it was rather cold. Can you see me down near the bottom of the garden, doing some minor weeding? I'm the black lump near the slide, or as we'd call it in Scotland, the chute. 

The way home was brightened by kittens! 

Very cute. 

Son and family came for the weekend I got home, which was lovely. Then,  after rather more socialising than I had time for early in the week, I had to get stuck into the church magazine, of which I'm the editor (it's not finished yet), and quite a lot of choir stuff. Mr L and I took our banner up town to attach it with many cable ties to the railings in the street outside the church where our concert is, St Cuthbert's, as is normal, but we then got an email to say that the council, which owns the railings, has decided that no one is allowed to put up banners any more. So the next day we had to go up and unattach it, but the church admin chap has allowed us to fix it to railings outside the church door, which is invisible from the street. This won't be as good, but it's something. 

Considering the ghastly things with which the centre of Edinburgh is currently cluttered - a big Christmas market which cuts off the view of the Castle, a huge Ferris wheel, a terrifying spinny thing that sends people round and round AND UP AND UP - the council is being a bit pot-calling-kettle-blackish. However, there are worse things happening in the world. And how. 

Meanwhile my other choir, the one of which I'm (thankfully) not the chair, is having its concert a week on Saturday. I've missed quite a few rehearsals through being in London, so I should really do a bit of practice. Not today, however! On! On!

Light and colour

Life is busy but uneventful at the moment - which isn't a bad thing, but isn't exciting. This week has mainly featured the writing of Christmas cards, of which we still send quite a lot. Our offspring send far fewer, I suppose because of Facebook and so on. It's quite time-consuming because I tend to write little bits of news in cards for people I haven't seen for a while, because otherwise, what's the point?

Big Grandson, now 13 and towering over me, sends us lots of photos of buses (he's very very into transport of any kind) but also photos of beautiful skies on his way to school, which is nice. As above. 

We went to the Botanics - not newsworthy but always lovely - on a sunny day. It's the "very dead of winter", as TS Eliot says in "The Journey of the Magi", which I always think about in December, when the garden is mainly a heap of brown sticks. But this cotoneaster was a wonderful splash of colour. 

And the gardens are set out for their walk of lights, which we always enjoy. Daughter 1 and I are going with the Edinburgh Two on Saturday night. Those candles are a bit surreal but do cheer the place up, even during the day. 

A sparkly robin, or something of the sort. 

And a stained-glass "greenhouse" - not sure that would work. 

And here's my favourite tree, lit up by the sunshine like a candle. I can never remember what it is - a cedar? - but in summer it's covered with frothy pale green coniferish leaves. I'm sure I have photos of it at different times of year but can't find one at the moment. 

And now I'm off to Dunfermline Abbey to take part in a carol marathon. Better get myself going.

 

Ding dong merrily on high

I've been very busy, but in a mainly choir-related way. I'm a member of two choirs, and both had carol concerts last week. I have had quite a lot of organising to do for one of them, and as well as that I had rehearsals on Thursday evening, Friday afternoon and Saturday afternoon, and concerts on Friday and Saturday evenings. This was quite hard on a) the brain, b) the back and legs and c) the voice. But it was all quite fun. As a result, I have nothing interesting to report, but - this isn't very interesting, but it's all I've got - Jubilo, the choir of which I am now the chair, used to have a banner which became obsolete, so I commissioned a new one (designed by a committee, hmm, but it turned out ok) to advertise our concert. It's reusable - we just stick another (plasticated) poster on the top for next time. This was much more faff than it sounds, but there it is on the fence outside St Cuthbert's Church, our venue. Can you see Edinburgh Castle in the background? 

Did it bring in any extra audience members? Well, at least two, which I know because they were very nice South African tourists who saw the banner and came to the concert. They came very early, which is how I became aware of them. Their presence may have had something to do with the fact that it was pouring rain at the time; who knows? 

Mr L kindly put the banner up with cable ties earlier this week, and after the concert, when it was still Biblically pounding down, he even more kindly took it down, in the dark and (very) wet, slicing his finger while cutting the ties. He's a very good chap. 

The other choir, at which I am just an ordinary member, had four of the same carols as Jubilo in its programme, which made it easier for me, though also slightly confusing, since we performed them slightly differently at each choir. For example, sometimes the men sang verse two alone (or we all sang it) or we had to get louder in one bit (or not), or we had to sing things legato (or staccato). And so on.

The other choir is The Seven Hills Chorus (Edinburgh is reputedly built on seven hills like Rome, though there are really more). This is their banner and it's an indoor one, displayed in the hall where we give our audience drinks and mince pies. It's there for the purposes of recruitment. 

And that's been my life this week. Next week - Christmas preparations. 

PS I was surprised that Margaret doesn't know what "faff" means. I hadn't realised that it was a British English word. It just means "bother", in the sense of having various minor but time-consuming things to do, though as a verb - when you're faffing around - you're doing these things inefficiently. The Scottish equivalent, or at least near equivalent, is "footer". Eg, "I haven't got time to footer around with that", or "I'm going to string fairy lights round the doors but it's a bit of a footer."

 

Here we are again...

I'm still slowly sorting out archives. Here's my dad's Christmas card to my mum, in the late forties, when my brother was around but I was yet to make an appearance. It says: "Thank you for the lots of funs / Thank you for the jolly buns / How nice to be living with / You and [brother's name] Smith!" This is very characteristic of my dad, who was a huge brain and sometimes very choleric but could also be fun. 

Here are the two younger granddaughters dressed for Hallowe'en. How we miss them. 

We're not allowed to post pictures of Middle Granddaughter but she's not exactly recognisable here. 

I got out my knitted ghosts. One must keep up traditions. I bought them at a sale of work some years ago and am fond of them. 

Oh, and here's the third granddaughter - or in fact the first - slightly Hallowe'enised. 

We're still allowed to have them round, though not their parents, which is a bit daft really since the children are far more likely to have picked up the virus at school than their parents are at home. But ours not to reason why... etc. 

Little Granddaughter in London sent me a dictated letter. It says, "Dear Granny, Dis is a picture for you. It's a tree and a balloon in da sky. I'm going to nursaweee today. It's a bit sunny but it's not raining any more. I'm going to do a trick. I put my hands on the floor and my legs up. It's a good trick. Lots of love from (Little Granddaughter)."

 And here's the balloon in da sky. 

England is about to be almost fully locked down again from next Wednesday midnight, and I imagine that our Great Leader will follow England's suit shortly, after a decent pause to make it look as if she's being very independent. 

It's all very dire. 

On a brighter note, one of my choirs had a sing not on Zoom yesterday. The musical director organised us to meet under the covered walkway of a hotel just outside the city. We sat two metres apart, only 15 of us at a time (he had two sessions and not everybody could come) and as it happened it was blowing a hoolie so that any germs must have got whisked away - along with quite a lot of the music of those who hadn't clipped it into their folders! They did manage to retrieve the music.  Anyway, it was such fun, though I was sitting right under (well, two metres away from) the conductor's nose and felt as if I were singing a solo to him, which was slightly unnerving. 

(Hello to Pam J, by the way.)