Saturday 23rd February - A House of Cards

Life can be just as precariously balanced as a House of Cards.

 

The first time I thought of this analogy was a long time back, probably nearly 20 years ago. I was studying for my Music Teaching Diploma (LTCL) in my "spare time".

Hahaha. As mother and housewife and part-time IT trainer and church organist there wasn't a lot of that commodity around.

 

 

To prepare for the performance element of the diploma, I went on a Piano Masterclass Day. I had decided to play a Scarlatti Sonata, from memory. It's a fast piece and your hands have to make lightening jumps from one end of the keyboard to the other so there really isn't time to look at the music. I hadn't played anything from memory, in public, since I was a teenager. So, a scary, scary, scary challenge, then.

I completely failed to bring it off.

I knew the piece well enough at home, but on the day the structure would not hold. Was it the different piano? Or being on a stage? Was it the bright light from a window just catching my eye? Or the draught that randomly chilled my face? The twists and turns, changes in physical and melodic direction, needed to perform the sonata crashed, time and time again, just at the bottom of the first page. Rather like a house of cards, folding in on itself at the second or third layer.

The professor was very kind, very wise, and helped me through the misery and despair. He spent time discussing the nuts and bolts of the piece, and techniques for memorising, including the other pianists in the conversation until I was steady enough to try again. This time I took it at a slightly steadier tempo ('the performance direction "Allegro" has as much to do with liveliness and cheerfulness as with speed') and was successful. I have remembered this incident in detail ever since.

Similarly, other things in life are just as fragile as a house of cards.

My mother's return home after her major stroke is only possible while my father's health is good, while her health is good, while the carers, who come in 4 times a day, are completely reliable. At the moment she finds it difficult to sleep through the night. She will call for help, or reassurance, or company, maybe three times in the night, which has all kinds of de-stabilising effects on that particular house of cards. She spends the day dozing, because she is tired, and whoever in "on watch" that night, spends the day in a partial zombie state. Something will have to be done!

My own health is currently entering the next phase; I have an auto-immune disease which has been progressing relatively slowly ever since it was diagnosed, but just occasionally this progression creeps over a threshold where the next phase of treatment becomes necessary. This week, various tests have shown that another threshold has been crossed. It has taken me a couple of days to brace up and face up to the implications, but my personal "house of cards" is still standing, in spite of the shaking it received. However one consequence is that it won't be possible for me to stay at my parents' flat for a couple of nights each week so that my father can get a good night's rest, adding to the forces at work on their "house of cards". 



The thing is, the houses of cards work because each card is perfectly placed and balanced. Like our family, and our friends, working together, pulling together, staying together....

Thursday 21st Feb - Hair-cut day

Now, I know that most people have their hair cut and styled regularly, every - 6? 8? 12? weeks?

I tend to go fairly regularly too - about once every couple of years.

The only bit about going to the hairdresser that I enjoy is the having-your-hair-washed bit. Everything else is well out of my comfort zone.



Like the lighting, which makes me look and feel old and ancient like Cruella DeVil.
Like the "small-talk" and chit-chat.
Like having to decide whether to say "just take off the split ends" (which means about 6 inches).
Like trying to decide whether this is the year to go for short hair and a fringe, and then chickening out - again.

Having my hair re-styled is usually the signal that I am about to re-invent myself... About every 7-10 years I change direction.

The "Diverted Traffic" sign always makes me wonder what the joke was.

It's about twenty years ago that I was made redundant from my part-time work in the IT industry, (where I had worked full-time for about ten years until I took maternity leave).










I took up piano lessons again, from several grades lower than where I had left off (which was post-grade 8) and slogged my way up to "getting my letters" - LTCL - which I am still amazed at. I also took a City and Guilds stage 1 and 2 in Further Education, and became a piano teacher.




It's about 10 years ago that I applied for, and got, a job as a class music teacher in a local primary school. I remember the head teacher congratulating me, and saying "we decided to go for enthusiasm over experience this time". Well, I certainly had bags of the former and none of the latter!

 It's about 5 years ago that I added Wider Opportunities class music teaching to my portfolio. I was taken on to teach keyboards to whole classes in primary schools. Since then I have also taught flute, clarinet, descant recorder, treble recorder, ukulele, samba and djembe. I've had a go at teaching the trumpet, as we had a boy who could not use his left hand in one of the clarinet classes.











Last year I bough a complete samba kit, with a view to running workshops in the holidays (events have delayed the launch of this enterprise, but the neighbours had better watch out once the weather improves!)

Oddly enough I don't teach keyboards at all at the moment, and it is probably the only instrument for which I have a formal qualification!

So, today I had a hair cut. That's an ominous sign. What am I planning to do next?

I'm really not sure. It was just a trim this time, but with layers. That's a first step towards a complete re-style, possibly a fringe, and maybe even curls. You have been warned.

 

Monday 18th February - A Close Shave

It's been a tiring sort of day. I haven't done that much - just trekking up to London for a routine hospital appointment. I even had company for the day!

So what was so tiring?
The early start? (7:30 am train)
The bitterly cold wind?
I reckon it was all the sitting around:

You arrive at the hospital, navigate the maze of corridors (even after 10 years I still get lost), book in, and sit in a chair in the waiting area (a corridor).
Someone comes, and moves you to another chair for blood pressure and oxygen saturation levels.
You sit in another chair.
You do a "walk test" - this entails walking up and down a measured length of the corridor for 6 minutes while someone keeps count of how far you go (487 metres today).
You sit in a chair for blood pressure and oxygen saturation levels again. (There's no point really - my fingers are so cold, that by the time they have got a reading I am breathing normally again, so the levels are back to normal again.)
You move to another chair.
Someone calls you to be weighed - I'm 3 kg less than last time :)
You sit in a chair in another corridor.
You get called to see the consultant, and sit in a chair in his room, then lie on a couch while he "has a listen" and prods you about a bit, then back to the chair (No significant changes, which is Good News as far as I am concerned).
You go and sit in a chair in the waiting area.
You go upstairs for blood tests; there are 50 patients before you, so you sit in a chair in the waiting room.
You are called for the blood tests - you sit in another chair and are sensible and brave for a few minutes. It doesn't really hurt. Only a little scratch. She's very quick.
Back down to the chair you first sat in when you arrived.
Another doctor needs to see you - guess what - another office, another chair.
Back to - but as you lower yourself in a chair it's "no, don't sit there, come in here and I'll give you your next set of pills and sort out the date for the next appointment". This is nice - a swivel chair with a soft comfy seat. I resist the temptation to have a few twirls and try and pay attention.

And we've escaped! I arrived at 9:30 am - it is now 1 pm. 


"Le Pain Quotidien’s logo depicts a loaf of bread
 being pulled from a traditional bread oven."
Got this pic from wikipedia -I always wondered
what the logo was meant to be...

We go to my absolute favourite coffee shop for the best croissants and a bowl of coffee - yes, a bowl of coffee - and then complete the London ritual by buying lunch in M and S and eating it while travelling back towards the West End on the top of the bus...

We got off in Charing Cross Road, checked out a couple of bookshops, mortally offending the assistant in Foyles by trying to buy a clip-on light for my Kindle ("a what, dear? don't know anything about them. Sure you've got the name right?").

I tend to get off at the top of the road, as I find walking downhill substantially less tiring than going uphill!

We carried on, taking in a diversion through China Town, still all red lanterns and fortune cookies from Chinese New Year
(but no brollies, crowds or dragons).

At the bottom of the hill lies Trafalgar Square with living statues, and a bare-kneed (brr) bagpipers. We ended up at Waterstones (who do know all about Kindles and had 2 different kinds of booklights for sale - one at £29.99, and the one I bought, for £7.99).

Then we carried on, still downhill, and caught the bus to get to the station to get home. I bet those cavalrymen were glad of their warm winter cloaks. I hope their shiny brass helmets have nice fleecy linings.

We got home at the reasonable hour of half-past-five. One answerphone message, one email, and a pile of post.

So - that close shave? Well, if you've been paying attention, you will know that I've given up Freecell and Solitaire on the computer for Lent. And after all that sitting about, and book-browsing, and walking around, I very nearly forgot, and came sooooo close to clicking on All Programs=>Games=>Freecell. That would have Really Spoiled My Day. Phew. A Close Shave.

Sunday 17th February - The good side of mending

He's busy upstairs, mending the drawers in his chest of drawers, after one of the drawer fronts came off in his hands a while ago. Which is an opportunity for a bit of a clearout. The problem is that we have lived in this house for nearly 30 years, so everything just gets put somewhere, and stays there...

We filled the bedroom bin to overflowing.

We found all kinds of buried treasure; old photographs, old letters, fifty 10p coins, a jersey I actually managed to complete, presents made by the children over the years, and souvenirs of decades gone by.










There's been a fair bit of "oh, do you remember when..." and "so that's where it got to..." and other surprises along the way.









We filled one bag with clothes and bric-a-brac, and another with rags, for the charity shop, which neatly deals with keeping up with my New Year's Resolution for this month.


The drawer fronts haven't yet come off my chest of drawers, but there is a fair bit of repair work to be done, as the bases of the drawers are parting company with the back and sides. That will have to wait for another day.

As will replacing the bedroom carpet. He reckons that there is about three years' worth of full-time work repairing, renovating, decorating, everywhere, all over the house lined up for when he retires...

    

Wednesday 13th February - Labyrinths and Bach

I was teaching an adult (retired) piano student this afternoon. Although he plays at an advanced level, he had taken a year off playing last year, as so his fingers were nearly as stiff as mine had become, through lack of practise (perhaps I should add daily piano practise to my list of Lent resolutions - but that might be a penance that my fellow family members would not want to pay!)

Because of the break, we have returned to the Anna Magdalena book. These little pieces are deceptive - there is a lot of technique hidden inside the simple melodies and short dances.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFUPxPKg_Dg

We are working on this menuet in B flat major, with a steady "walking bass" leading us all the way through. It reminded me of walking a labyrinth; this steady, measured progression all the way into the centre of the dance, and then back out again. There are no fireworks, no surprises, no sudden shocks - just a satisfying journey through well known paths...

We used to "do" the local maize maze every year. I always found this a little too frightening. I suppose, if  I got desperate, I could have just forced my way through the towering plants and got out that way, but I was always scared that we would get lost (well, thinking about it, we WERE lost) and wouldn't be able to get out for hours and hours and hours.

Labyrinths aren't like this. There is just the one path in, and you retrace your steps to get out. Simple.
The Bach menuet is just the same; a gentle walk to the centre, and then a steady return journey. At least, that's the long term plan....

Wednesday 13th Feb - Labyrinths all over London

The other day I tripped across this news item - here's the link and a copy-and-paste of the first paragraph:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-london-21369129

Mark Wallinger unveils labyrinth Tube art

Each of the 270 stations has its own design, including this one for Westminster

Continue reading the main story

 

Artist Mark Wallinger has unveiled his labyrinth design for artworks to be displayed at every station on the London Underground.

Permanent art works are to be displayed at each of the 270 Tube stations to commemorate the network's 150th anniversary.

Inspired by the Tube's symbols, each station will have its own unique black and white design.

The first ten will be on display from 7 February.

It represents the journey through the network taken by millions of individuals each year from that place, Wallinger said.



I'm looking forward to hunting them down at some time - a Summer project, maybe.

 

 

 

Wednesday 13th April - Ash Wednesday

I'm not ging to be able to get to church today - in fact attendance has been very erratic since I don't know when - ah yes, probably since 30th October..... that fateful day when, "at a stroke" everything turned upside down for all the family.

However, I will be trying to make an effort to keep Lent as a Holy Season.

Giving up: I think it has to be Freecell and Solitaire. I sit there, mindlessly clicking away for far too long. It is a way of unwinding, of letting myself stop thinking and be mindless, but it is time I gave it a break!

Taking on: I'm going to use the online website to try and say one of the daily offices every day - morning prayer, or evening prayer, or compline.

Looking outwards: I'll take the Mignon McLaughlin quote as a motto; "Don't be yourself. Be someone a little nicer" and see how that goes.

I'll also be following a Lent course which a friend put me on to; a Fransiscan vicar who emails a reading and reflection and a call to action every day. Last year it was all drawn from the Narnia books. This year, he is using "The Screwtape Letters" as a starting point. I'm actually a little apprehensive: I read my grandmother's copy years and years ago, when I was a young teenager, and the illustration on the front cover scared me half to death. It was the way his eye is open just a slit, staring so knowingly at you.  

  

Last year, I "gave up" speeding - I had come to the realisation that I was being a little hap-hazard about observing speed restrictions as I roared around the county from school to school. That resolution has "taken" and I am now much better at observing and obeying speed limits. I think it is a good idea to use Lent as an opportunity to make a long-term change for the better.

Having Mummy home, is, as she herself commented while still in hospital, making big demands upon everyone's goodwill. We all have to be careful, patient, considerate, thoughtful, every moment of the day, to keep the house of cards standing. As time goes on things will get easier. Meanwhile, we are all trying not to be ourselves, but to be someone a little nicer!  

February 12th - Pancake Day!

I probably won't be making pancakes today - if I do, they will be scotch pancakes which slightly defeats the purpose of using up eggs, but I prefer them to the traditional pancakes. We will probably have them at the weekend (The Sabbath was made for Man, not Man for the Sabbath).

Take 8oz SR flour and rub in 2 oz butter (4oz and 1oz for just one or two people)

(if you are reading this, BoggyB, or Papa, "rubbing in" means dropping the lump of butter into the flour so it gets coated all over, picking it up and gently squishing it a little to expose some of the butter, dropping it in, again to coat the revealed surfaces, picking it up and squishing a bit more and dropping it in again, over and over with light, gentle movements, until the butter lump gets thinner and thinner and finally disintegrates into a million tiny grains all covered in flour. This sounds a longer and more tedious process than it actually is. You have finished when the bowl looks as though it is full of fine bread crumbs)

Add a tablespoon (desertspoon) of sugar - any old sugar - white, brown, caster, granulated - and mix it in well. 

Put a non-stick pan on to get hot. Rub a smear - just a smidgeon - of butter round the pan with a bit of kitchen paper to grease it slightly

Stir about half a pint of milk (quarter of a pint, that's 5 fluid oz) to the flour/butter/sugar mixture, so that it becomes the consistency of double cream.

Check that the pan is hot; if you flick a drop of water onto the surface it should sizzle and spit a little.

Now, use a tablespoon to put a dollop of pancake mix into the pan. Watch it (DON'T GO AWAY!), and when little bubbles appear in the top surface (a couple of minutes), flip it over with a spatula or fish slice. The underneath should be a nice golden brown with no runny bits. Let it cook for another minute or so, and transfer to a cooling rack (aka the grill pan).

Now that you've got the hang of it, you can cook several in one go. I can get three in my big pan at the same time; four usually causes problems when it comes to flipping them over.

We eat them with maple syrup and ice cream as a pudding, or with cheese or jam or honey (wenslydale cheese AND honey is good too) instead of bread.

Best Beloved went through a phase of having them for breakfast - I used to make up the flour/butter/sugar mix in bulk, and keep it in the fridge. Then, every morning, I just used enough to make his pancakes. (there's a declaration of true love in that statement; this phase lasted at least a year!)

warning - alert -

My next post will be number 200

oh bother, that's this one. I've blown it now.

Sunday 10th February - why I lurve my phone

I might send it a valentine, I love it sooo much...



It's a Samsung Galaxy Note II with a little stylus thingy that slots into a space like the toothpick on a Swiss Army knife, and a HUGE big screen which makes it properly worthwhile to look at photographs.

 

 

I can draw pictures on it with the stylus, and upload them here, there, and everywhere...

I can waste hours on twitter, facebook, reading the BBC news, playing Angry Birds, and scrolling through my RSS reader...

 

I can even upload my lesson planning, amend and enter the lesson reviews as I go along (it's not just for play, you know).

 

I can email people (work and pleasure), take photographs, check addresses for sending letters.

 

I use the maps all the time, especially to try and avoid the disastrous roadworks clogging up the centre of a town that I go three four times a week.

 

Oh, and it is a phone - did I mention that?

 

But the bestest thing is the noise it makes when I refresh twitter: a sort of slurp followed by "pop".

So I sit there refreshing and refreshing twitter just to hear that lovely "pop".

Sunday 10th February - ENOUGH

There comes an END to MENDING.



He has just chucked out the clipspot that might possibly be worth keeping if the fault is with the light assembly rather than with the AC/DC converter




And it would only take a little while with a multi-meter to see where the fault lay

and if the AC/DC converter turned out to be fine it might just be worth saving it for if the same component on the other similar light we have develops a fault

BUT 

there comes a point when the answer to every thing is

NO

and when that point is reached, it is better to shout it at a minor thing than explode at a MAJOR thing.


(And by the way, the next time you - and you know who I mean - plays "daleks" with the standard light YOU ARE IN FOR IT. TOTALLY. ABSOLUTELY. It will be scales and Czerny for you for the rest of term - gottit?)

((I only posted this because I wanted to use the phrase "end to mending". But I DO mean it about NOT playing "daleks" with MY lamp while waiting for your piano lesson. Go and get your own lamp and break it at your house!))

Sunday 10th February - Blogging - hi there!

I post at two blogs - this one, and www.themusicjungle.co.uk. Actually, there are another two blogs as well, but as they don't get posted to very often I'll just carry on ignoring them.

It is tempting to try and become more widely read - in fact, in the case of The Music Jungle, I would like that to happen as that has a more "professional" purpose. I could tweet endlessly each time I post to my blog. A couple of people I follow on twitter are rather inclined to do just that; but it just acts as a warning that one can become a leeetle irritating...  Anyway, I have "subscribed" to all the blogs that I am really interested in the "reader" that appears at the top of my google homepage, so all new posts appear automatically. That's a great idea; every evening I can read what is effectively my very own "magazine" of articles, pictures, cartoons on topics that I have chosen. You'll find most of these blogs listed down the side of this blog (although I do need to go through and update the list)

This blog is really intended as a letter to various family members and friends with the sort of news and chit-chat that we might talk about. Because I know that a few other people have tripped across it, I try and be discreet about sharing too much personal information. So, no photos of people, very few photos featuring our homes, and probably just enough information for people to guess my approximate location.

It is immensely flattering to discover that people are interested in reading what one has written; if I am not careful, I start spending tooooo much time looking through the stats. The ones for The Music Jungle are most encouraging - I'm getting over 100 visits per day - what I don't know is whether they are all "bots" (sounds soo rude) or if they are real people. I just don't know enough about what I am looking at.

When it comes to this blog, all I can tell is that most posts get read by about half a dozen people, and some don't get read by anyone at all! According to another snippet of information, only one or maybe two people are following me, but I know for a fact that at least SIX, and maybe as many as EIGHT people regularly read what I post!

Say, here's a thought - if you have read this post, leave a comment! Then I can count up and find out!

Friday 8th February - She's home!

One of the reasons that the pace of life has suddenly become even faster and more demanding than it has been, is that the final push to get my mother home was in full sway.

Furniture had to be re-arranged in their flat to admit the delivery of a bed, a wheelchair, beside table, hoist, and other ancillary equipment.

It then had to be re-re-arranged after the Occupational Therapists had visited to make sure everything worked and there was enough room to operate the hoist.

A spending spree ensued; extra duvets, pillows, sheets, as there is bound to be an increase in the laundry loads.

There were extra meetings with nursing and social services staff.

Finally, she arrived home on Friday afternoon. We decided to install her in the dining end of the living room, at least in the first instance, so that if she goes back to bed in the afternoon she can still be part of the activities in the flat. One advantage of this is that the hi-fi is right beside her bed, so she can  have her choice of music playing to help her doze off, or fill the hours.  

My mother is so happy to be in her own home. We left last night after she had been tucked up in bed and had settled down to go to sleep.

So far, so good! The carers arrived in good time last night, and were marvellous, and the team came again this morning.

I shall learn more when I go round this afternoon...

Mon - Fri 4th - 8th Feb; Loading the Car

This is typical of the day's worth of stuff that gets loaded into my car every morning....

This was for a Wednesday: in the big black case is my djembe, on top are gloves and a ukulele. Beside it is a laptop bag which I use for lugging my sound system around (the first school's system is incompatible with my mp3 player).Underneath my sketchbook and pen case (those are optional extras for if I get time to do any sketching) is a repinique, which is a samba drum which I use for leading samba classes, and some spare samba instruments. The camouflage rucksack contains various music books and my packed lunch, there is a spare djembe I am taking to a school to replace a broken one, and finally my all-important red "hand-bag" which contains everything I need to survive almost every situation. (and weighs a ton).

This was for a ukulele class, followed by a samba class, and then, twenty miles further on, another samba class and two djembe classes. And I did get to do some sketching too!

I reckon it all weighs about 20 pounds or so - it's a while since I put it on the scales.

Wednesday was quite a good day, all in all, apart from accidentally dunking my usb memory stick in a cup of tea. That might prove to be a bit of a bind. I haven't yet tried it out to see if it still works, in case it gunks up the usb port on a computer. I've given it plenty of time to dry out, and now need to plug it into an old port somewhere, to scrub the connections clean without damaging something important. This is the kind of thing that is happening to me all the time at the moment...

Mon - Fri 4th - 8th Feb - Daffodils and Silver Birch Trees

It's really weird; for most of my life I have NEEDED to play the piano. After a couple of days of not playing, say, if we were on holiday somewhere, I would start to feel almost unwell. When I was a child I would always ask if there was a piano at wherever we were staying, and the most important wedding present we received was a piano from my parents. I say "we" although my husband never got any use out of it, life without a decent piano would have been seriously problematic for the both of us.

Now, probably because I do so much piano teaching, I hardly ever play, and my fingers are getting stiff (worryingly stiff; I will have to do some serious practise as it is impacting my ability to teach my more advanced students!).

What is giving me the same kind of weird unease these days is my overwhelming need to start doing some serious painting and drawing. This has never been a part of my life. However, more and more, I find myself desperate to put pen and brush to paper to try and reproduce what I see all around me every day.


I reckon I'm beginning to get the hang of oak trees, and now my attention is taken up by silver birches. These are on the road leading down to a rural village school.

And this beauty is in another school playground (apologies for my thumb in the top left hand corner!)




















These lovely, graceful trees bring back memories
 of the garden of the house where I grew up; long outdoor summer Sunday lunches (cold meats, french bread, tomato salad) and the pigeons cooing and the breeze riffling through the branches...

During a break between schools, I settled down with a cup of tea and had a go at using the photograph to draw my own silver birch. It was a bit of a hassle as the mobile phone keeps switching off every 30 seconds or so.

 

I'm happier with my second try. "Oh, a snow scene" was one comment. Well, no, I was actually thinking of early spring! I might put pond in the bottom left hand corner, but I don't know how to go about drawing ponds just yet. I'm using fine line permanent pigment pens in different widths.

 Oh yes, I've been going on about the early daffodils. At risk to the traffic I did pause to take a quick snapshot, but couldn't hang about because someone suddenly appeared and I was half blocking the road. The daffodils closest to the car are well and truly out; the ones further along obviously get just a little less sun. It is the more spectacular because you come upon then as you suddenly emerge from a dark section of the lane which is shrouded in towering rhododendrons.

 

 

Goodbye to January 2013 - Monday 28th - Friday 1st

 A moment's pause to look back over the last week..

Actually, much of it is a bit of a blur.

I was given a "One-Word-a-Day" Diary for my birthday; I thought that I would have no difficulty keeping that up! How wrong could one be! I stalled out on 8th January...

 
Every day involves loading the car with the instruments that I will need - a selection chosen from  djembe, repinique (for samba), extra surdo mallets and items from my junk samba kit to pad out the equipment at one or other school, ukulele, descant recorder, treble recorder.

Then there is the rest of the stuff; amplifier, lap top, mobile phone (left to charge overnight and therefore at risk of being forgotten), packed lunch (flask of cuppa-soup, flask of porridge, banana, smoothie, water bottle, yogurt and a spoon), rhythm flash cards, mp3 player (which I sometimes listen to at night and so is also at risk of being left on the bedside table), my "how-to-play-samba" book  as I am forever getting mixed up between all the rhythms, intros, breaks, the relevant file of paperwork for the different roles I do - sometimes I am employed by the county (Mon/Tue/Wed - purple file), sometimes as a freelancer (Fri - wodge of sheet music), sometimes as a class music teacher (Thurs - green file).





Before I leave, I sometimes try and load the crock-pot. I've replaced the small one for a family sized one, so a pot of food will provide a couple of days of meals. (2 packets of diced beef or pork or lamb, a couple of sliced carrots, and onion and a three or four chopped sticks of celery, mixed herbs, salt and pepper, and stock, or 2 jars of curry sauce, or 2 cans of chopped tomatoes - give it all a stir and set on auto, leave to cook until done; bung a couple of potatoes in the oven or zap some rice to serve with it)

 Once I set off, I travel between the schools, a round trip of between fifty and sixty miles on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Thursdays and Fridays are different: those are the days I spend in just one school. It's not all go go go: if I am lucky with the traffic, and haven't filled time with chores, I can stop off at my favourite cafes en route for a coffee and a toasted teacake or croissant... and rattle away on the laptop getting the "paper work" up to date.

Once I'm home, I'll start teaching piano and theory pupils between 4 and 6:30.

So, why am I not insane, mad, crazy, stupefied by all this rushing around?

It's because the skies are so beautiful, the bare branches of the trees make such interesting shapes, the birds are singing, I think I can just see the first flush of green on the willow trees  by the hump-back bridge, children come up individually and thank me for the lesson, the child who couldn't manage the chords/notes/rhythm has stuck with it and overcome the problem, the class at last pulls together, the irritatingly cheeky little brat behaves in an exemplary manner...

It's because my mother is making so much progress in so many ways, because my father is looking happier, because everything seems to be working out for when she returns home to their flat in maybe a week or so... (fingers crossed).

It's because I am so aware of how fortunate I am with my family and friends all around to help and encourage and support me.



 

Saturday 2nd February - Warning! warning! Overload alert...

I've had a really fun day today. Madness, utter madness, to take on an extra day's work with everything else going on, but when a colleague asked me, I couldn't resist. She's great to work with, and I knew she'd do all the serious planning, and do it really, really well, so I said "yes" to helping to run a Percussion Workshop for nearly thirty young children, aged seven, give or take a year.

Whoah! On Thursday I checked my diary, and discovered that the Workshop, so far in the future when I agreed to help, was the day after tomorrow! But she'd done the hard graft, and I just turned up (with my amplifier, boomwhackers, resources, mp3 player, spare percussion instruments, packed lunch, extra drink, box of tissues for snotty children and packet of kitchen paper in case of spills at lunch time - Baa Baa Black Sheep FOUR bags full of gear).

So I collected her, and her four bags full, waited while she had a precautionary painkiller ("waking up on the morning of a percussion workshop with a headache doesn't seem fair") and that was the last moment of peace and quiet until 3 pm.

It was a fun, fun, fun day (as far as I am concerned). I can quite see that very few grown adults would regard sitting on the floor playing "the cup game", flapping their arms around singing "The Penguin Song", moving around to music like an elephant or a can-can-dancing tortoise (Carnival of the Animals), directing thirty children armed with loaded boomwhackers ("NO whacking ANYONE ELSE, do you hear?")

(random picture from the internet to show what boomwhackers are - this isn't the class I was teaching)
http://www.musick8.com/boomwhackers/bwphotodisplay.php?num=1&photo=goss.jpg

Yeah - fun fun fun and I really did enjoy myself. The course ended at 3pm after a show to parents, and I then had half an hour to pack up, load the car, and zoom round to a nearby church hall for a tea and coffee and biscuits and powerpoint presentation on France, for the forthcoming Womens' World Day of Prayer event. That went OK too; my laptop behaved and connected sweetly to their projection system, there weren't too many unpronounceable words in the script that comes with the presentation, and someone was able to take over when I succumbed to a fit of coughing two-thirds of the way through.

          

Home then, after dropping a friend off in the next village, and rattle in the latest weekly issue of www.themusicjungle.co.uk - my weekly music magazine (oh alright, blog), and bung some salmon into the oven (line roasting dish with large piece of foil, glug in a little olive oil, dump in the salmoin fillets, salt, pepper, lemon except mine was a solid as a stone so I didn't bother, seal foil to enclose salmon in a parcel, roast at 170 for 30 mins, serve with curly kale and new potatoes) and relax in front of the telly.

Oh, did I miss out the bit where I backed into someone else's car in the car park after the music workshop, and remodelled - slightly but significantly altered - the shape of their driver and passenger door? I know I LOOKED through the mirror as a backed out, but I clearly didn't SEE properly. I was properly upset - no, I didn't cry, not that kind of upset. But it was a stupid thing to do, and made me late for the French thingy, and will have caused no end of nuisance and botheration for the other car owner. I left a note, and we've been in contact, and, all things considered, they were very reasonable. But they really didn't need the hassle. Tomorrow, in daylight, I'll check out the damage to my car. I think it's just a but scuffed on the corner of the bumper.
OVERLOAD ALERT - MESSAGE RECEIVED AND UNDERSTOOD. Sort of. After all, I have said "Yes" to another workshop at the end of March - they are such fun, fun, fun....