Anita laid the knitting on the table and carefully measured its length. Just about one metre - perfect, time to cast off the stitches. The completed scarf lay in a loose coil on the table, the autumnal colours glowing gently. She ran her fingers over the fabric, enjoying the soft, springy texture, before taking a sewing needle and her personalised label to add the finishing touch; "hand knitted for NewCreations by Anita".
She folded the scarf and added it to the collection that was growing in the hamper in the corner of the workshop.
"How many is that now?" asked Lizzy,
"Ten, I think," replied Anita. Lizzy pulled out a ledger from the shelf nearby, and turned up Anita's page.
"No, that brings it up to a dozen," said Lizzy. "Do you want to do another the same, or try the new style?"
"Let's go for it," suggested Anita, looking as though she was preparing to do battle. "I'm sure I'll be able to get the hand of those cable patterns now."
The NewCreations workshop was an inspiring haven of warmth, colour and activity in a corner of the shopping mall. In one corner there was a row of hampers containing different hand knitted items; scarves, shawls, even whole blankets. There were shelves with baskets of yarns and tubs of knitting needles. Around the edges, a random variety of chairs were arranged informally in conversational groups, leaving space for a worktable in the centre. A few toddlers were playing with toys om the floor.
NewCreations had only been open for a month, and already it was getting a name as the new place to be. It was the brainchild of Lizzy, who had roped in some friends to get it going. The plan was to set up a group to help find work and employment for local people. Lizzie had settled on knitting as the basic medium as the raw materials - knitting needles and yarn - were easy to source. Her friends had been press-ganged into the enterprise because they they really knew how to knit. Lizzie was under no illusions about her own skills in that area.
Ideally there should have been months, or even years, of research and discussion before NewCreations opened, but that just wasn't Lizzie's way of working. She had gone round the shopping centre, eyeing up all the empty shop units, and then plunged into the management offices to cajole them into letting her have one on a temporary basis "after all, isn't it better to have something going on in an empty unit, if only to attract people to the shops either side and help them to keep going?"
A structure for the group was needed. There had to be some kind of way of agreeing a basic level of acceptable quality, and maintaining standards. A range of goods for NewCreations had to be agreed. Sue, one of Lizzie's friends, put up her hand for that, and put together a small portfolio of patterns, suitable for different skill levels. Lizzie wanted members to be able to start contributing as soon as possible after joining. Using the test swatches to create blankets and throws was a simple way to achieve this. The personalised labels was another of Sue's ideas. It made sense to give the knitters a personal connection with the group rather than turning them into anonymous workers.
The other local charity shops were a source for acquiring knitting needles, so the main investment had been the yarn. Newcomers to the group were given yarn and needles to either demonstrate their skills, or learn how to knit. Once the quality of their work was suitable, they started working for real, using the beautiful yarns piled enticingly on the shelves at the back. This was where Lizzie, Sue, and the other founder members had to put their hands into their pockets, and start committing their own money as well as their time to the project. Suddenly, it all became frighteningly real, frighteningly immanent.
to be continued
Monday, 27 August 2012
Sunday, 26 August 2012
Sunday 26th August - "fitzing"
That's what my husband calls it - I don't know if he made it up, or if that is a "real" "technical" "term".
It's what he calls all that fiddling around with fonts and text centring and bold and italic and lining up and preview and what-have-you before you decide that the report/post/printout looks right.
Finally, after a long, long time, you press print or publish or send.
And then you spot the typos.
That's life.
It's what he calls all that fiddling around with fonts and text centring and bold and italic and lining up and preview and what-have-you before you decide that the report/post/printout looks right.
Finally, after a long, long time, you press print or publish or send.
And then you spot the typos.
That's life.
Hay-on-Wye - Even further back in time
We arrived in Hay-on-Wye on the Friday afternoon, after a torrid journey through tedious holiday traffic (what else can you expect in August!) Having made careful enquiries about whether it was possible to turn up before the official time of 4pm, we were delayed and finally unfolded ourselves out of the car at 5pm.
Saturday was taken up by a round trip to Birmingham airport, to collect the fifth member of our party who was flying in from elsewhere. On the way back we stopped at Leigh Park Barn -
- look here - I may as well put you straight now. I am not going to post a chronological diary of the holiday. Just the bits I feel like writing about, when I feel like writing about them. OK? If you want a proper timeline, you will have to cut and paste and re-arrange things later for yourself.
Right, where were we.
Sunday was a non-car day. Thank heavens. We spent the morning pottering around the town and I bought a couple of postcards to make sure of sending them off before we finished the holiday. One with a picture similar to this caught my eye:
It is a dry valley in the Gospel Pass, the highest paved road in Wales, a very old way through the Brecon beacons from Hay-on-Wye to Abergavenny.
Joy of joys, there was even a stone circle at the top.
The kind with little stones like this one in a rough circle.
It seemed to be a friendly little circle, more "domestic" than awesome. It felt quite - approachable, understandable. When I was younger, I remember visiting Stonehenge when you could still get upclose and personal - and a little scared - by the size of the whole thing.
The views were breathtaking. (So was the wind).
I took the picture of the dry valley a little further on, before the long descent through increasingly civilised farmland down to Abergavenny (and the long, long wait until they could manoeuvre the broken-down tractorish kind of thing that was blocking the single-track road into a gateway to let us pass. "I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with... G". "Grass" "Yes, your turn"....)
Saturday was taken up by a round trip to Birmingham airport, to collect the fifth member of our party who was flying in from elsewhere. On the way back we stopped at Leigh Park Barn -
- look here - I may as well put you straight now. I am not going to post a chronological diary of the holiday. Just the bits I feel like writing about, when I feel like writing about them. OK? If you want a proper timeline, you will have to cut and paste and re-arrange things later for yourself.
Right, where were we.
Sunday was a non-car day. Thank heavens. We spent the morning pottering around the town and I bought a couple of postcards to make sure of sending them off before we finished the holiday. One with a picture similar to this caught my eye:
It is a dry valley in the Gospel Pass, the highest paved road in Wales, a very old way through the Brecon beacons from Hay-on-Wye to Abergavenny.
Joy of joys, there was even a stone circle at the top.
The kind with little stones like this one in a rough circle.
It seemed to be a friendly little circle, more "domestic" than awesome. It felt quite - approachable, understandable. When I was younger, I remember visiting Stonehenge when you could still get upclose and personal - and a little scared - by the size of the whole thing.
The views were breathtaking. (So was the wind).
I took the picture of the dry valley a little further on, before the long descent through increasingly civilised farmland down to Abergavenny (and the long, long wait until they could manoeuvre the broken-down tractorish kind of thing that was blocking the single-track road into a gateway to let us pass. "I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with... G". "Grass" "Yes, your turn"....)
Saturday, 25 August 2012
Hay-on-Wye - Back in Time
It is only relatively recently that I have become a fully-fledged member of the internet community. That is, in my own small way.
Although I started a blog several years ago on Livejournal, I was frustrated by not being able to put pictures up, so rarely added to it. Last year I started www.themusicjungle.co.uk for various reasons, not the least for sharing (and thereby saving) music teaching thoughts, resources and ideas. that has now been going for a year and a week, three posts every week, updated every Friday (except when circumstances intervene).
A feature of The Music Jungle is the artwork - I am lucky enough to be able to call upon the services of a talented artist from time to time!
One this has led to another, and now I am a blogaholic, both reading and writing them.
Facebook followed, and then I discovered Twitter! Oh, wow, how much time it takes, keeping up with all my friends (54, all people I know personally) and people I'm following (34, mostly people I've never met)
Well, Hay-on-Wye made a lovely change. Quite often the weather was good enough for us to sit out on the decking and admire the view from our self-catering "cottage" (think four-bedroomed town house). Quite often the weather was more like the picture.
The town was enchanting; a maze of old-fashioned streets, alleys and houses, some of the best craft shops I have EVER been to (and I am a bit of a craft shop junkie), and, of course, The Book Shops. Also, with disastrous consequences to my credit card, a Rohan shop. If you know about Rohan, you will know exactly what I mean.
Only one thing was lacking - internet.
No internet.
No blogs to read.
No possibility of writing up posts.
No twitter.
No facebook.
Aaaaaaargh!
However, it was a very good holiday. More to come.
 |
| Illustration for "My hat, it has three corners" |
A feature of The Music Jungle is the artwork - I am lucky enough to be able to call upon the services of a talented artist from time to time!
One this has led to another, and now I am a blogaholic, both reading and writing them.
Facebook followed, and then I discovered Twitter! Oh, wow, how much time it takes, keeping up with all my friends (54, all people I know personally) and people I'm following (34, mostly people I've never met)
The town was enchanting; a maze of old-fashioned streets, alleys and houses, some of the best craft shops I have EVER been to (and I am a bit of a craft shop junkie), and, of course, The Book Shops. Also, with disastrous consequences to my credit card, a Rohan shop. If you know about Rohan, you will know exactly what I mean.
Only one thing was lacking - internet.
No internet.
No blogs to read.
No possibility of writing up posts.
No twitter.
No facebook.
Aaaaaaargh!
However, it was a very good holiday. More to come.
Tuesday, 14 August 2012
Later on Tuesday 14th August - progress, mostly forwards
Since this blog claimed to include "To-Do" lists I thought I'd better either change the description or add a to-do/done list. This list deserving of a cup of tea, a piece of cake (except that the tin is empty) and a bit of a gloat.
So, I lifted the potatoes. I was wildly optimistic about the size of the bucket that I would need. If it were down to me to ensure our family's survival by the work of my hands and the sweat of my brow, then we are all doomed. Moral of the potato harvest - you get what you put in. I put a dozen or so potatoes that had got all over-excited in the potato bag, and left them to their own devices. At least I can eat these potatoes, the the exercise of foraging for them has probably done me some good.
When I was about 10, my grandmother gave me a year's membership of the Children's Book Club as a birthday present. Every month a hardback book would arrive through the post. This is how I came to read "The Runaway Settlers" by Elsie Locke. It made a big impression upon me, and left me with a vague hankering, even at that age, for self-sufficiency, growing-your-own.
Only a hankering. Only vague. I'm a big fan of Waitrose.
The washing is in the machine. And the next load is waiting... but for how long? Who knows.
I finished the blanket square, and reached the base layer of the dining room table.
On the way to the base layer of the table, I discovered all the instrument inventories from the different schools I worked in last year, updated the spreadsheets and files the paperwork. I also excavated a couple of cardboard boxes waiting to be used for something useful, and relocated them to the garage.
The cake is in the oven (yoghurt cake - it's the only one I make at the moment because it is so very, very quick and easy). Chocolate this time - replace half a pot of flour with cocoa powder, and dollop in what might be about a tablespoon of baking powder, and use half and half dark brown sugar and caster sugar. I'm not including a picture of it baking in the oven until the oven has been cleaned. There are limits to what one is allowed to exhibit to the unsuspecting reader.
Done:
When I was about 10, my grandmother gave me a year's membership of the Children's Book Club as a birthday present. Every month a hardback book would arrive through the post. This is how I came to read "The Runaway Settlers" by Elsie Locke. It made a big impression upon me, and left me with a vague hankering, even at that age, for self-sufficiency, growing-your-own. Only a hankering. Only vague. I'm a big fan of Waitrose.
The washing is in the machine. And the next load is waiting... but for how long? Who knows.
I finished the blanket square, and reached the base layer of the dining room table.
On the way to the base layer of the table, I discovered all the instrument inventories from the different schools I worked in last year, updated the spreadsheets and files the paperwork. I also excavated a couple of cardboard boxes waiting to be used for something useful, and relocated them to the garage.
The cake is in the oven (yoghurt cake - it's the only one I make at the moment because it is so very, very quick and easy). Chocolate this time - replace half a pot of flour with cocoa powder, and dollop in what might be about a tablespoon of baking powder, and use half and half dark brown sugar and caster sugar. I'm not including a picture of it baking in the oven until the oven has been cleaned. There are limits to what one is allowed to exhibit to the unsuspecting reader.
Tuesday 14th August - To do, done, not going to get done
Done:
(Writing "done" things on a "to-do" list is a cheat, but it makes me feel better.)
- Sort out hospital appointment
- Phone the people about collecting the bed (they are out)
- Put an email round about getting hold of an IKEA catalogue - you can only get the hard copy by collecting it from a store - "otherwise you have to browse on-line"
- Deliver another four bags of stuff to Age
- UK - they take dressmaking snips and snaps - hooray! (It's a bit depressing that delivering 10 bags and boxes of stuff to various charity shops in the last week has made no appreciable difference in the amount of clutter in the house)
- Sort out the number of stitches you need to cast on to knit a 6 inch square (to make blankets to give to the Red cross) using 4mm needles and double knitting wool (yeah, my needles may be metric but I'm still Imperial. You may bow or curtsy if you like.)
To Do:
- Knit the flippin' square for real, now I know that it isn't 50 or 30 or 35 stitches that are needed - the organiser blithely estimated 50 stitches, and I believed her. To help out, I've knitted a few trial runs to work out what's right. Her plan is to produce blankets for the Red Cross which I will thoroughly approve of when I am restored to a better frame of mind. It's 33 stitches.
- Tidy the dining room table - again, again, again. I nearly bought an "inspirational" book for my Kindle called "The Fifteen Minute Rule", or some such. I looked at the preview, and the "inspirational" idea is - pretty inspirational; any task can be chipped away at, from tidying to tax returns, in fifteen minute bursts. The writer is so upbeat and optimistic. It worked for her.
- Which reminds me. The Tax Return.
- Washing. nearly out of pale clothes, which could be catastrophic or embarrassing, or just irritating.
- Make cake.
- Choose flavour of cake.
- Lift the potatoes
- Weeding and general garden warfare.
Not going to get done:
- Probably the Tax Return.
- Most likely the dining room table.
- Garden warfare. I feel a pacifist phase coming on. And the nettles and briars are truly triffidous. I expect they are good for wild life. As are the slugs and snail under every leaf.
Omissions:
Nothing about music practise hereor ironing.....................
or housework................
Oh well.
"Tomorrow is another day"
Tuesday 14th August - mofarahrunningawayfromthings
www.mofarahrunningawayfromthings.tumblr.com
hahahaha - well worth wasting some time on this site!
I had barely heard of Mo Farah, no, let's be truthful, I hadn't heard of Mo Farah until I watched a celebrity special episode of the game programme "The Cube"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cube_(game_show)
where athletes were trying to win money for their chosen charity.
I was vaguely aware that this quiet, charismatic young man was steadily winning - in fact he was the first person to "beat the cube" by completing every challenge with skill and grace and charm.
I think I am now a fan!
Monday, 13 August 2012
Monday 13th August - Robert the Dog
My grandmother had a collie dog called Robert. In my "family history" I don't know many stories about him, and I have only the haziest memory of him. I have a much clearer picture of his successor, already ancient when I knew him (Bruce), and of Tuppy, a formidable black cat.
I do remember being told that Robert could shut a door when asked, a very useful trick in the days of cold draughts and no central heating. The drawback was that he would always bark, loudly, while pushing the door, so that everyone could see how clever he was.
Like many of the little stories handed down through the generations of my family, it has an unspoken, cautionary, message.
Which reminds me: Riddle from a "Family Fun Book" which probably dates to when my parents were children;
"When is a door not a door?"
answer below
When it's ajar". Baffled me for years. Unlike "When is a cow not a cow?"
answer below
"When it is turned into a field." you may groan now.
I do remember being told that Robert could shut a door when asked, a very useful trick in the days of cold draughts and no central heating. The drawback was that he would always bark, loudly, while pushing the door, so that everyone could see how clever he was.
Like many of the little stories handed down through the generations of my family, it has an unspoken, cautionary, message.
Which reminds me: Riddle from a "Family Fun Book" which probably dates to when my parents were children;
"When is a door not a door?"
answer below
When it's ajar". Baffled me for years. Unlike "When is a cow not a cow?"
answer below
"When it is turned into a field." you may groan now.
Sunday, 12 August 2012
Sunday 12th August - Anticipation
ser·mon
(sûr
m
n)
[Middle English, from Old French, from Latin serm
, sermn-,
discourse; see ser-2 in Indo-European roots.]
from http://www.thefreedictionary.com/sermon
It's a very, very long time indeed since I have looked forward to hearing a sermon.
But after the last couple of Sundays, where our vicar preached on Psalm 23, Psalm 1 and Psalm 8, I found myself wondering, with almost eager anticipation, which Psalm it would be this week, and what he would have to say.
It was Psalm 19 and I will be writing up what I remember (with the help of my notes - I actually took notes!!!)
Just so as not to bother friends and family who aren't all that interested in churchy stuff, it's on www.episodesandinterludes.blogspot.com
I can't help "doing a bit of church" on this site - it is a part of who and what I am - but I'll keep the "really churchy stuff" on the other site.
mn)
n.
1. A religious discourse delivered as part of a church
service.
2. An often lengthy and tedious speech of reproof or
exhortation.
[Middle English, from Old French, from Latin serm
, sermn-,
discourse; see ser-2 in Indo-European roots.]from http://www.thefreedictionary.com/sermon
It's a very, very long time indeed since I have looked forward to hearing a sermon.
But after the last couple of Sundays, where our vicar preached on Psalm 23, Psalm 1 and Psalm 8, I found myself wondering, with almost eager anticipation, which Psalm it would be this week, and what he would have to say.
It was Psalm 19 and I will be writing up what I remember (with the help of my notes - I actually took notes!!!)
Just so as not to bother friends and family who aren't all that interested in churchy stuff, it's on www.episodesandinterludes.blogspot.com
I can't help "doing a bit of church" on this site - it is a part of who and what I am - but I'll keep the "really churchy stuff" on the other site.
Saturday, 11 August 2012
Saturday 11th August - Why do I blog?
Why do I blog?
I had a brief period when I was rather focused on statistics - after all, when other people have hundreds, or even thousands of visitors to their blogs, my statistics appear to be very poor.
The average is half a dozen readers, sometimes there are none. One of my posts once received over 40 visits - that was a giddy moment - I wonder why they all came. I didn't think it was a particularly interesting post...
I had been turning this question over in my mind, when one blog that I regularly read had a post on the same kind of question;
http://www.ibenedictines.org/2012/08/07/blog-and-web-statistics/
So, why DO I blog?
I think that the clue is in the title: "A letter from home". I set up my first ever blog as a journal of our amazing trip to Canada last year.
I wanted it to be a kind of thank you for those fabulous weeks; the wedding, seeing where our friends live and their local area, and of course the once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Niagara Falls.
As I was writing it, I realised it was a brilliant way of staying in touch, not only with our Canadian friends, but also with other members of our family.
That was a "private" blog, just about the trip.
So I started this one, as a random collection of snips and snaps, bits and pieces - "pits and pieces" as my godmother calls them, that crop up, like the weeds
among the paving slabs of our very imperfectly laid patio.
You are in the wrong place if you are looking for deep and insightful philosophical, political, psychological, theological, economical insights and debate.
I had a brief period when I was rather focused on statistics - after all, when other people have hundreds, or even thousands of visitors to their blogs, my statistics appear to be very poor.
The average is half a dozen readers, sometimes there are none. One of my posts once received over 40 visits - that was a giddy moment - I wonder why they all came. I didn't think it was a particularly interesting post...
I had been turning this question over in my mind, when one blog that I regularly read had a post on the same kind of question;
http://www.ibenedictines.org/2012/08/07/blog-and-web-statistics/
So, why DO I blog?
I think that the clue is in the title: "A letter from home". I set up my first ever blog as a journal of our amazing trip to Canada last year.
I wanted it to be a kind of thank you for those fabulous weeks; the wedding, seeing where our friends live and their local area, and of course the once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Niagara Falls.
As I was writing it, I realised it was a brilliant way of staying in touch, not only with our Canadian friends, but also with other members of our family.
That was a "private" blog, just about the trip.
So I started this one, as a random collection of snips and snaps, bits and pieces - "pits and pieces" as my godmother calls them, that crop up, like the weeds
among the paving slabs of our very imperfectly laid patio.
You are in the wrong place if you are looking for deep and insightful philosophical, political, psychological, theological, economical insights and debate.
Friday, 10 August 2012
Friday 10th August - The Skill of Waiting Patiently
 |
| http://dictionary.reverso.net/english-definition/possess |
Yesterday I spent hours and hours just waiting. Literally. It was a "clinic day", which means going to London for a routine check up, and also the various tests to do with the drug trial I am in. The clinic visit usually takes a longish time, and involves a lot of sitting around waiting. Yesterday was no exception, so I wasn't unduly surprised that, having arrived at 9am in order to get the drug trial tests and consultations completed before the actual clinic appointment at 10:45, it was still well after 1pm before I left the hospital.
There we were, all facing each other, seated in two rows of uncomfortable chairs along the basement corridor between the consulting rooms. We were all in a reasonably patient, resigned frame of mind. Every so often a door would open, and a name be called, and a little sigh escape from those of us left to wait a little longer. Actually, to wait a lot longer. No-one complained. We could all see that the consultants and staff were working as fast as they could, and at the same time, giving each of us as much time as we needed.
After all, we were only there for a morning. The hospital staff would be facing the same long queues of people day after day after day.
I wouldn't have commented any of this at all, if I hadn't googled the phrase "possess yourself in patience" to check I had remembered it correctly. It is the eighth of nine definitions of "possess"; what made me smile were the words in green!
Wednesday, 8 August 2012
Wednesday 8th August - what happens to your CV
I'm one of the lucky ones - I want to work, and I am working. I have two separate hourly paid teaching jobs (the sort where you get payslips!), and then I am self-employed for the rest of the hours. During term time my work is intense, demanding, all-consuming, and I can only maintain this level of "output" because of half terms and holidays.
In a previous existence, I worked in the computer departments of various companies, and occasionally had to recruit staff. This was years and years ago now, but my husband has also, in a previous years, been in the position of recruiting staff, and he followed the same procedure.
You place the advertisement. Or the HR dept, or the employment agency places the advertisement.
The applications come flooding in, thick and fast, and accumulate in a file, or a folder, or even just a pile. The pile gets randomly shuffled as more forms are added to the back or the front, or the whole lot falls on the floor.
After the closing date, you sit down for half an hour with a cup of coffee, and skim through the applications; (by now there will be perhaps a hundred or so). no, no, yes, no, no, no, no, yes, er...no.
Once you have found fifteen possibles, you stop, and return the rest of the application forms to the pile. Unread.
From the fifteen you have chosen, a careful reading should result in a shortlist of maybe five to call for interview. If not, the trawl through the next dozen of the pile will make up the list.
Sorry folks. It's really not fair, but that's how it is.
I, and my husband, have been on the receiving end of this lottery - and it is a lottery - as well as dealing it out.
Your application may have been the first, or the last. It probably makes no difference. The only thing that can be said with any certainty is the that the slightest error on your CV will mean it WILL be discarded.
Don't be discouraged by this - it just means that it isn't necessarily your fault that you didn't get the interview. It's a numbers game - a lottery. One day, you WILL hit the jackpot. I did. My husband did. You will. Just keep the applications going, and keep your balance.
In a previous existence, I worked in the computer departments of various companies, and occasionally had to recruit staff. This was years and years ago now, but my husband has also, in a previous years, been in the position of recruiting staff, and he followed the same procedure.
You place the advertisement. Or the HR dept, or the employment agency places the advertisement.
The applications come flooding in, thick and fast, and accumulate in a file, or a folder, or even just a pile. The pile gets randomly shuffled as more forms are added to the back or the front, or the whole lot falls on the floor.
After the closing date, you sit down for half an hour with a cup of coffee, and skim through the applications; (by now there will be perhaps a hundred or so). no, no, yes, no, no, no, no, yes, er...no.
Once you have found fifteen possibles, you stop, and return the rest of the application forms to the pile. Unread.
From the fifteen you have chosen, a careful reading should result in a shortlist of maybe five to call for interview. If not, the trawl through the next dozen of the pile will make up the list.
Sorry folks. It's really not fair, but that's how it is.
I, and my husband, have been on the receiving end of this lottery - and it is a lottery - as well as dealing it out.
Your application may have been the first, or the last. It probably makes no difference. The only thing that can be said with any certainty is the that the slightest error on your CV will mean it WILL be discarded.
Don't be discouraged by this - it just means that it isn't necessarily your fault that you didn't get the interview. It's a numbers game - a lottery. One day, you WILL hit the jackpot. I did. My husband did. You will. Just keep the applications going, and keep your balance.
Tuesday, 7 August 2012
Wednesday 8th August- Olympic losers
We were all given a songbook for the Olympics, created by Portsmouth Music Services. It is a cornucopia of songs covering all aspects of the Olympic games, and I taught a number of them to the children. There was one song which stood out, written by someone called Iain Gilmour, dealt with one of the most important aspects of the games; "Losers like me"
The chorus goes
"I'm not the fastest, I'm not the best.
Look past the podium, you'll find me with the rest
There will be champions, they would agree,
There'd be no winners without losers like me"
The verses give the viewpoint of an anonymous athlete, who knows that that are not in contention for any medal, but have reached the standard of taking part in the olympic games, and can hold their head up high for that achievement. If these "also-ran" athletes didn't take part, and run as best as they can, there would be no games, no winners, no medallists.
Some of the lines from the song:
"I know I beat the odds to get this far, I know that I will never be a star"
"They say that taking part is what is key, they mean that winnng isn't meant for me"
"And I will race them one and all, I will give it all I have to give, and know that I have truly lived"
Some teachers were appalled at discovering a song about "losing" in the collection. I couldn't disagree more. It is so important to "look past the podium" in all aspects of life.
The chorus goes
"I'm not the fastest, I'm not the best.
Look past the podium, you'll find me with the rest
There will be champions, they would agree,
There'd be no winners without losers like me"
The verses give the viewpoint of an anonymous athlete, who knows that that are not in contention for any medal, but have reached the standard of taking part in the olympic games, and can hold their head up high for that achievement. If these "also-ran" athletes didn't take part, and run as best as they can, there would be no games, no winners, no medallists.
Some of the lines from the song:
"I know I beat the odds to get this far, I know that I will never be a star"
"They say that taking part is what is key, they mean that winnng isn't meant for me"
"And I will race them one and all, I will give it all I have to give, and know that I have truly lived"
Some teachers were appalled at discovering a song about "losing" in the collection. I couldn't disagree more. It is so important to "look past the podium" in all aspects of life.
Tuesday 7th August - Nibble, munch, chomp
Today is an eating sort of day. Every so often there is a day when no packet of biscuits is safe, no bar of chocolate can hide, and toast, cereal, sweets, even fruit is all at risk.
I find myself snacking on bits and pieces of food all day.
Oh well. If I eat it all today, then it won't be there to tempt me tomorrow.
(If it happened too often then that would soon become serious! Luckily I know from experience that this mood will won't last long)
I find myself snacking on bits and pieces of food all day.
Oh well. If I eat it all today, then it won't be there to tempt me tomorrow.
(If it happened too often then that would soon become serious! Luckily I know from experience that this mood will won't last long)
Sunday, 5 August 2012
Sunday 5th August - Madame Butterfly
Last night I had the unexpected pleasure of going to see Madame Butterfly at Petworth House. We sat in a tidy sized audience, enjoying a pic-nic supper before the performance began, and then sat spell-bound through it all.
It was put on by Opera Brava, and was totally brilliant. If you get the chance to see them, I urge you to go. Sometimes there is an orchestra, but not this time. They had a pianist instead, who played superbly, sensitively, orchestrally, and the singers were amazing, all completely committed to their roles. I was caught up in it all from start to finish.
I have never seen Madame Butterfly before, and I didn't know the plot until I read it in the programme. It's a very sad story, and I was absorbed in the implications of what was happening. I had to keep reminding myself "it's just a story". The only characters that appeared to behave with any common sense seemed to by Suzuki (the maid), and Kate (Pinkerton's American wife). Oh, and the little boy, beautifully played by a nine-year-old girl.
How dare a Naval officer take advantage of such a young girl, apparently in her teens, knowing that he planned to ditch her? His opening aria was so cynical - the world there for his taking, to grasp and use as he chose?
What must Kate think, finding herself married to such a shallow, self-centred, irresponsible, heartless man, and stuck with him for ever.
How on earth did the boy ever manage to recover from finding his mother's body, and then being carried off to America by strangers?
What an extraordinarily modern story, especially since it was composed in 1904.
Hey, calm down. It's only a story. Fiction. Right.
It was put on by Opera Brava, and was totally brilliant. If you get the chance to see them, I urge you to go. Sometimes there is an orchestra, but not this time. They had a pianist instead, who played superbly, sensitively, orchestrally, and the singers were amazing, all completely committed to their roles. I was caught up in it all from start to finish.
I have never seen Madame Butterfly before, and I didn't know the plot until I read it in the programme. It's a very sad story, and I was absorbed in the implications of what was happening. I had to keep reminding myself "it's just a story". The only characters that appeared to behave with any common sense seemed to by Suzuki (the maid), and Kate (Pinkerton's American wife). Oh, and the little boy, beautifully played by a nine-year-old girl.
How dare a Naval officer take advantage of such a young girl, apparently in her teens, knowing that he planned to ditch her? His opening aria was so cynical - the world there for his taking, to grasp and use as he chose?
What must Kate think, finding herself married to such a shallow, self-centred, irresponsible, heartless man, and stuck with him for ever.
How on earth did the boy ever manage to recover from finding his mother's body, and then being carried off to America by strangers?
What an extraordinarily modern story, especially since it was composed in 1904.
Hey, calm down. It's only a story. Fiction. Right.
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
Wednesday 1st August - Planning the First Samba Course
This has been a real slog through the paperwork, but I think I'm about there now.
Dates - sorted
Venue - booked
Flyers - err; two errors on the first run, so will have to reprint.
Session planning - complete
Public Liability Insurance - sorted (I'm a member of the Incorporate Society of Musicians which provides this as part of the membership package)
Risk Assessment - sorted
Costs - after a lot of heart searching, some research, and several changes of mind, fixed
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| this image, and the one above, from www.themusicjungle.co.uk copyright themusicjungle.co.uk |
Now all I have to do is hope and pray that some children actually come!
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