Oops, not been here for a whiley, well, I had my appraisal to write up which consumed a lot of evening and weekend time.
After 8 Mince had a very good gig at St Peter in Chains church in Inverkeithing; the audience was tremendously supportive from the beginning, and it was just one of those nights when it clicks. There was a lovely buffet – star billing to the home made fruit cake with butter – and a well stocked raffle which was run with military precision (why is it that people buy raffle tickets then disappear when the prizes are being called? This has happened at every raffle at which I have ever officiated or in which I have participated). I won a teddy, like I need any more soft toys in this house, and, as with all the ones we share a life with, it immediately won my heart. Hey Sooz, remember crying in M&S in the Gyle over all the teddies that didn’t have a home for Christmas?
I had been particularly worried about singing for a whole evening since I have one of the four viruses (virii?) currently doing the rounds in the Bay. I deliberately spoke to no-one all day and consumed big mugs of hot lemon and honey, plus I scooped the last packet of Vocalzone lozenges from the chemist. This strategy worked, but when we came off stage I had a lovely big glass of red wine and my throat just went wummff and that was it, couldn’t speak for three days. Man, it’s great stuff, adrenalin, and yes Paul did enjoy the peace and quiet. Anyway, thank you to everyone for their kind suggestions, especially to Wilma for manuka honey, to which I am faithfully repairing to three times a day, even though I have serious issues with any honey which has not been chemically re-structured by the addition of mustard.
Yesterday I went with Ali to see Matthew Bourne’s Nutcracker ballet which was very, very good. I have not seen much ballet in my life but the choreography seemed strong and there was one point where the principal man leapt sideways and did actually appear to hang in the air for a full three seconds. The costumes were beautiful and the design was clear cut, almost cartoon-ish ( in a good way) with big shapes and strong colours. We were a little surprised that the actual music was pre-recorded, not sure how they would square that with the Musicians’ Union but that’s their lookout. That would make it doubly difficult for the dancers, no conductor to work with who might drum up a repeat of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy at short notice if anything went wrong. Anyway, this sparkly pink punter went home with the happy dilemma of whether to be a Marshmallow Girl or a Liquorice Allsort when she grows up. I had a lovely afternoon with my sister and of course to hear Tchaikovsky’s music for this work, complete and uninterrupted, was a joy.
Meanwhile Paul was in Glasgow to attend a lecture on the physics of guitars, which necessitated an heroic early morning cross country train dash after his work’s Christmas night out…
Blackbirds are returning to the bird table which usually means that the naturally occurring food is becoming scarce. Please remember to clean your feeding utensils. There are also coal tits, blue tits, my robin* and the lovely squabbly bunch of house sparrows.
Finally for now, the National Portrait Gallery has re-opened and I may attest to the claims that the light has been brought back to the top floor. Impressive enough on a 40 watt winter’s day, should be glorious in the summer. The PR blurb maintains that the scones in the cafe are still worthy of renown, I have not put that to the test yet but have no worries, Gentle Reader, I shall do so just as soon as the queue dies down a bit. For the unitiated, NPG scones were previously without equal in the fair capital, therefore I am prepared to brook no dip in standards.
* “My human, more like.” The Robin
“A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting.” The Doctor