LLangollen Eisteddfod treat

We got to the ticket office at about 0830 and found no queue at all. We paid our £11 each for day tickets which gave us unreserved seating in the rear section of the main pavilion. It sounds worse than it was; as we were among the first in we were able to choose the centre front row (unreserved) which were excellent seats. This you can see from my photos of the stage, all taken without having to stand up.

The choir we were particularly interested in following was Coro San Benildo from the Philippines, whom we had seen and liked very much in a lunchtime concert in the parish church. Here they are, performing on the main stage.

Many choirs wore some sort of national costume. This choir from California - Davis High School, I believe - were in strange Tudor-style clothes. This might be because they call themselves a madrigal choir, I think.

Coro San Benildo gave an excellent performance in the Youth Choirs category and we were pleased that they won. They were ecstatic when the adjudicators gave their verdict!

Their conductor, Lorenzo C. Gealogo, collecting his trophy.

After the various elements of the competition had been completed for the day there was a colourful and noisy parade through the town.

Terry Waite was driven in a 90-year-old Vauxhall and was given an ice cream by a man dressed as an ice cream.

After the parade we had fish and chips by the river, then took the boat up to the basin to wind and returned to our mooring but now facing Trefor. We were really pleased we stayed on for a whole day at the Eisteddfod. We shall have to do it again another year.

Towpath choir rehearsal

We can't stay away from LLangollen. Having moved the boat to Trefor yesterday afternoon we all cycled back along the towpath to the town for the second free lunchtime concert in the church. This was given by another young Californian choir who were very good, especially in the diction department.

We checked out the programme for tomorrow and decided to make it an Eisteddfod day. We'll be up early and get to the booking office by 0830 in order to buy tickets for the day.

As David and I cycled along the towpath to the Chain Bridge we came across a choir doing some last minute rehearsing by Bridge 46. As you do.

By the way, all the bridges from Trefor to LLangollen have been given a "W" suffix reminiscent of the locks on the Huddersfield Narrow Canal. Presumably these "W"s are to signify that this is the western extremity of the LLangollen Canal.

Then we saw the horse drawn trip boat ...

... and the horse nibbling a few leaves as the boat was "turned round" at the furthest point of its trip. It's actually just the rudder which is dragged along the edge of the canal from one end to the other; the tow rope is positioned on a different part of the roof too.

BAck at the boat we decided to move it nearer the Eisteddfod site so we can cycle to the event in the morning. We're now tied up back at the lift bridge, just a few minutes away by bike.

After tea David and I cycled to the spot on the towpath outside the pavilion and listened to the last half hour of Bryn Terfel's concert. Well worth it.

Cleaning for The Queen (but not sitting down on the job)

Jan and I helped with the regular village litter pick this morning. This time it was under the banner of "Clean for the Queen", a nationwide litter blitz dreamed up, I believe, by Keep Britain Tidy.

First, though, we litter pickers took part in a small-scale unveiling. A bench commemorating the centenary of the First World War - lest we forget - had been newly installed. We ripped off the plastic sheeting and posed for a photo.

Jan was proud to be the first to sit on the bench, but somehow I missed that photo opportunity.

The bench is rather good, with doves of peace and poppies.

Then we dispersed round the village and filled our purple plastic sacks in the rain. Here's Jan posing with hers!

There was more purple this afternoon at a Lenten Concert we went to in Wymondham Abbey.

It was very good; we went for a curry afterwards. That was good too.

Snow on snow?

As is usual for this time of year a group of us stood outside Tesco's and sang carols for an hour this morning.

Jan kept us in tune with her violin ... while I was plenty warm enough in my shorts, thank you very much.

It felt strange singing "In the bleak midwinter" when the temperature was over 14C.

Loughborough

8th April 2013

One glance at the photo below tells you we're in Loughborough. Or, rather, we were, when I snapped it as we entered the basin on our Easter cruise last year.

The basin itself is rather soulless, and for boats longer than about 40 feet the pontoons are too short to enable tying on with ropes front and back. We tied up to the concrete edge, which was still tricky owing to the unfriendly positioning of the bollards. The basin is very convenient for both Tesco and Sainsbury's.

In the town the Loughborough Echo building has a striking art deco frontage.

Perhaps a local can explain the apparent horseshoe symbol in the sign.

Jan, do you think you could you help me on with this sock?

The Sock sculpture by Shona Kinloch was unveiled in 1998 and refers to Loughborough's hosiery industry.

We ate in a Wetherspoon pub, which happened to be hosting a real ale festival. I had not seen so many hand pumps on one bar before.

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As you can see I've managed to upload photos again. This time I did it via the convoluted Picasa Web Albums route. I hope I will be able to do it the good old direct-to-Blogger way in the future.

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I have just done the first two performances of the village pantomime: a matinée in the afternoon followed by an evening show. They went very well, with good responsive audiences. Now I have Sunday off before the run continues on Monday. Seven performances to go. I'm really enjoying it.

It's behind you!

For more years than I can remember I have filmed, edited and produced VHS tapes/DVDs of the village pantomime. Our daughter Ally was a regular performer, progressing from being a rabbit as a six-year-old to Fairy Queen 12 pantomimes later.

The hours of my work always meant that the biggest commitment I could ever make was the one or two evenings to film (and then the hours of editing and DVD copying).

This year my new status as "retired" has enabled me to volunteer for being on stage for the first time. I was accepted with alacrity - they need men in the chorus!

As a singer who has gone from treble to alto to bass (and to tenor in the church choir!) - always with the dots on the page in front of me - it came as a shock to find that we were not issued with music. Instead we had to pick it up as we went along. I still don't know if I'm singing it right.

I suppose all unknown quantities in their first year are put in the chorus where they can't do too much damage. So no speaking part for me. This year.

This was last year's production, Cinderella.

photo © Peter Steward (I think)

This year it's Beauty and the Beast.

Oh, another shock came with the revelation that, for some of the numbers, we would have to dance as well as sing. At the same time. Oo er! Singing I can do, but dancing???

I think the main reason large numbers of my family are coming to watch the final performance is to have a laugh at me.

In tights.

Doing "dad dancing".

The last few rehearsals have been run-throughs of the whole pantomime. I was a bit surprised at the amount of prompting needed on the last-but-one rehearsal. When I mentioned this to a seasoned cast member afterwards she assured me that it was always like that, and that "it would be all right on the night". Well, the next rehearsal was last night and, suddenly, most people seemed to know their lines.

Next week there are three rehearsals including the technical and the dress, before the first two performances on Saturday.

Old World - New World concert

Jan and I went to a concert held in Norwich's Roman Catholic cathedral this evening. It was given by two choirs: one, Escorial, from Norwich; and the other, Musica Missouri, from St. Louis, Missouri. They sang a programme of mainly sacred music spanning eight centuries, from Pedro de Escobar to Ola Gjeilo (no, I hadn't heard of him/her either).


The American choir was conducted by Philip Barnes, whose style can accurately be described as flamboyant.


The English choir was conducted by our friend Chris Duarte in a more restrained manner.


For some numbers the two choirs combined. The standard was very high throughout - a thoroughly enjoyable evening.

We did our bit for Anglo-American relations by going to the pub afterwards and chatting to several members of the Missouri choir. I made a point of praising the altos, who sang particularly well. We also explained that the recent wet weather is exceptional, but they said that they preferred a bit of rain to the 108 degrees F and wildfires they're having back home. (108ºF? What's that? Oh, 42C. Yes, that's pretty hot.)

The Americans are here for another week, combining more concerts with visiting Blickling Hall, the North Norfolk Railway and other touristy things.

The last bit of the Oxford Canal navigated

Thrupp to Oxford


At the very (Oxford) end of the Oxford Canal

At last. I have now covered every inch of the Oxford Canal from Hawkesbury Junction to Oxford itself.* Today I did the last bit of "new" water, between Isis Lock and the terminus in the town centre. Tomorrow I'll have to reverse back to Isis Lock to be able to wind to return northwards. And that will involve locking down onto the Thames to wind, and then going back up again. I haven't told Jan yet - the Thames is not her favourite waterway!

But first, this morning we walked from Thrupp along the towpath to Hampton Gay looking for the ruins visible in the fields. Again, I cursed myself for forgetting to bring my OS maps. We walked along a footpath in what I thought was the right direction, but we couldn't see any ruins. The annoying thing is that we found them easily the last time we were here, about ten years ago. We did see something I hadn't seen before, though. We all know there are several boats with the same name. Kingfisher, Narrow Escape etc. There is more than one Shadow, too. But how often do you see two bosts with the same name moored next to each other?


In Oxford we came across a rehearsal for a concert taking place later in the evening, so we sat and listened for a while. The Aurora Orchestra was preparing for an evening of Mahler.


The bits we heard - a movement from his fourth symphony and a song from Lieder eines Fahrenden Gesellen were superb. We really ought to have gone to the performance, but we hadn't eaten, and I'd already planned to go to Choral Evensong in one of the colleges.

I went to Queen's. The choir was excellent: I could hear every word!

*I'm not including all the bypassed former loops or arms,as most of these are private moorings.

Curdworth it, and Brahms (but no Liszt)

Continuing south along the Birmingham and Fazeley Canal on 5th April we ascended the Curdworth locks (this is Curdworth Shop Lock and Marston Lane Bridge) ...


... through the Curdworth Tunnel ...


... to tie up just beyond. Convenient for the White Horse, where we ate (gammon, egg and chips for me; Hunter's Chicken for Jan). I had a pint of very tasty Ubu.


The next morning I walked round the village and saw this lovely old timber and brick barn.


And here's the church.

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Fast forward to yesterday: we both sang in Brahm's Requiem in a concert at the parish church. It was a challenging work, especially for our smallish choir (27 singers), but I think we got away with it. We were very fortunate to have David Dunnett, the organist of Norwich Cathedral, to accompany us, together with two fine soloists: soprano June Harrison and baritone Ed Ballard. Neil Ricketts conducted.


I took the photo on a 10 second delay - I just had enough time to get to my position in the basses (back row on the left).

edited to correct a spelling

Sheep drinks Montgomery Canal, and cycling in fog

No particular reason for posting this now, but I was scanning some photos from the summer and came across this one of a sheep doing what you often see cattle doing, that is, having a drink from the canal. This was on the Montgomery Canal between Welshpool and Buttington Wharf while we were waking the towpath in July.

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I cycled home from work through the fog yesterday evening. It was actually quite an enjoyable experience. The moon was almost full so the trees and hedges were a ghostly grey, emerging from the surroundings as I cycled along my country route home. With fog there is no wind, of course, and that makes cycling much easier. When I got in I found I was much wetter than I felt, if that makes sense.

This afternoon we rehearsed for our for choir concert next week. We're doing Adiemus by Karl Jenkins; his Armed Man mass; Byrd's Mass for Four Voices; Parry's My Soul There Is a Country; Bainton's And I Saw a New Heaven; a setting of Ave Maria by our conductor, Neil Ricketts; Elgar's The Shower; and an arrangement of Over the Rainbow. We found it much easier singing in the church than in our usual rehearsal venue, a school drama room, so we're hoping we can go there more often.

Elizabeth Watts delivers powerful performance in New Year's Day concert

This morning Jan said, "Shall we go to the New Year's Day concert in St. Andrew's Hall? Elizabeth Watts will be singing."
"OK." So, after lunch, we drove into Norwich and managed to get tickets for the Norwich Pops Orchestra's Viennese concert. All but two (isolated) main seats in the hall were taken, and we opted to sit together in the "restricted view" area. The concert was excellent: the orchestra playing traditional numbers such as the Blue Danube waltz and the Radetzky March. The highlight was soprano Elizabeth Watts singing various items, including an aria from Puccini's La Boheme and a song by Richard Strauss.


You see what I mean by "restricted view"? The conductor is behind the right-hand pillar! I did, at least, get a good view of Lizzie (as she was known when she used to babysit for us).


I last wrote about Lizzie here.

This afternoon she managed a "career best top E flat" (according to her Facebook page (according to Jan)) and received a standing ovation.

Did I mention she used to babysit for us? Oh yes, I did.

Singing with the angels

On Saturday I took part in the first performance of There Was a Child by Jonathan Dove. I wrote about my feelings before the concert here. So how did it go? Well, don't ask me, read the review in yesterday's Times. Or click here for the online version.

But that's how it was for the reviewer, Geoff Brown. How was it for me? Exciting, thrilling, enjoyable. Nervewracking. I'd been worried about not being able to follow the conductor's beat, having had only one and a half rehearsals with him. We had a dress rehearsal on the afternoon of the performance - with the orchestra and soloists - and, yes, it was difficult. The orchestra was obviously well used to David Parry's style, and he didn't hang around. We'd been led to believe that the orchestra might slow things up a little, compared with the piano we'd had accompanying our rehearsals, but that was not the case. It wasn't really the speed which gave us problems, though: it was more the fiendishly complicated rhythms. The time signature was constantly changing: in one movement a big chunk had a different one for each bar! I mustn't hide behind excuses, though. I felt just a teeny bit under-rehearsed, and I think the same went for others in the choir. It was amazing to be singing with a top-class orchestra (the City of Birmingham Symphony).

Afterwards was somewhat anticlimactic: as I knew hardly any of the other singers there was no meeting up in the pub or going for a curry. Perhaps everyone else did! My parents and Jan had come to listen, so that was good.

I felt we'd "got away with it", but reading the review I'm not so sure now.

Here's an extract from the review:

... throbbing minimalist ostinatos; syncopated, ricocheting rhythms; catchy harmonic shifts; singable lines, much repeated. You think of Britten at times, plus early John Adams; but the fusion is authentic Dove, and it’s very familiar.

Had the work been shorter and less compartmentalised, the Dove manner might have generated bigger sparks. The premiere performance with the conductor David Parry and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra would certainly have benefited from punchier voices. Toby Spence and Mary Plazas hit the bull’s-eye with their solo stints — eloquent expressions of boyish abandon, the wonder of birth and a mother’s grief. But the Broadland Youth Choir and Hewett School Choir needed larger decibels, greater numbers, while the spirited folks of the Festival Chorus hadn’t the orchestra’s mastery of Dove’s galloping rhythms.

Even so, the piece’s big heart was always appealing. And where it mattered most, in the emotional climax, the Dove magic still worked. Spence’s tenor rose in ecstasy for the aviator-poet Magee’s sonnet High Flight, only for the chorus to tumble down, one sad monosyllable after another, in the elegy of the executed Tichborne. Well-chosen words; pointed notes; fervent performers. Impossible not to be moved.

Well, it moved me. I think it's great music, and it was fun to sing. There are still little bits of it buzzing around in my head.

And the title of this post? I was right at the very back of the choir, on a steeply raked platform, looking down on the orchestra, conductor and audience.

O for the songs of a Dove

Jonathan Dove with his score

This Saturday I have the privilege to be singing with the City of Birmingham Orchestra!

No, not as a soloist, but as a humble chorus bass (and you can't get much lower than that!) We're performing the world premiere of "There Was a Child" by Jonathan Dove in the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. It's been a challenge, but I'm feeling much more confident now we've had the penultimate rehearsal. I just hope that we'll manage with the orchestra: so far we've been rehearsing with piano accompaniment.

No, I hadn't heard of Jonathan Dove before, either, but my ears pricked up while listening to Radio 3 last Sunday: two of his smaller scale choral works were played on The Choir.

Singing in North Walsham and Hethersett

Yesterday I went to North Walsham to take part in a singing day with the composer John Rutter. He writes mainly sacred choral music which is very popular with church choirs and congregations/audiences (even if sometimes sniffed at by "serious" classical music buffs).


I was there with some 450 people to enjoy being guided through some of Rutter's vast output. We sang from his Requiem; A Clare Benediction; New Year; For the beauty of the earth; All things bright and beautiful... and many more. It was a good day, despite the church where it was held having been double booked: we had to make way for a wedding at 1230.


During the enforced long lunch break I started walking towards the North Walsham and Dilham Canal, but gave up as it was just a bit too far away.


The town sign was the nearest I got to the canal.


In the evening, much nearer home, Jan and I went to a concert in Hethersett Methodist Church given by soprano Elizabeth Watts, winner of the Cardiff Singer of the World 2007 song prize.


We were blown away - almost literally - by her performance (we were sitting in the front row). Lizzie is already a top-flight singer, and is still rising through the ranks. Why was she singing in little old Hethersett Methodist Church? She grew up in the village; that was her church; and it is from there that we know her. There's a good review of the evening here. It was a great privilege to hear her sing on her home ground, in a humble church building, considering that she's performed at the Proms and in concert halls throughout the world. Did I mention she used to baby-sit for us?

The end of the line, and I get vocal

Thursday 10th July 2008

After lunch at the Bootle Arms in Melling we carried on towards Aintree. Could we get as far as the racecourse? Well, no. Swing Bridge 10 was locked with a "BW only" lock, so we winded in the channel (one advantage of the boat being only 40 feet long) and headed back in the Leeds direction.


what are we doing in the green stuff?


the lock which defeated us

At some point we picked up a keep net on the prop. After much hacking away with a Stanley knife it came clear. "Willow" has the most accessible weed hatch and and easiest to clear prop I've come across. I'm sure the water came up only to my elbow when feeling around the prop shaft. And there's a huge amount of space around the engine.

At 2030 we tied up outside the Ship Inn at Haskayne. After tea on board we went into the pub and immediately encountered the Folk Club. Members were sitting round the walls of a large room, facing inwards. Each in turn would sing or play their contribution, approximately every other person having a guitar. We supped our drinks and listened - this was excellent. And all the better for it being entirely unexpected. The person next to us sang his song, and then the "chairman" asked if we'd do anything. No, we were completely unprepared, and had never done anything like this anyway. So the round continued ... but I had an idea. The metaphorical baton came round again, and this time I plucked up my courage, and said, yes, I had something. The only song I had been able to think of, and for which I could remember most of the words, was Amazing Grace. So I sang it, with backing vocals from Jan, and everyone joined in! I'd worried that it might be seen (heard?) as not appropriate, but I was assured afterwards that it had been quite in order and was appreciated. The funny thing is: I could sing in front of a roomful of strangers, but couldn't ask them if they'd mind if I took a photo. So there isn't one. Sorry.

I really must find some appropriate tunes for my recorder. Anyone got any ideas?

Creating tonight

It's our performance of Haydn's Creation this evening in Norwich's RC Cathedral. Here we are about to resume the second part of this afternoon's final rehearsal. It's cold in that church! But nervous energy will, I'm sure, keep me warm tonight. I'm a bass and Mrs. Halfie is a soprano. We have three fine soloists, including the tenor Ian Partridge.

Trains, bike, car and Godmanchester

Nine week cruise - day 22 - Saturday 23rd July 2005


Both up early for trains back down south for Auntie Pauline's 80th birthday party at David and Victoria's house in Godmanchester. John had a long day and was late for the (afternoon) party. David took the direct route, to Huntingdon, and thence by bike. I had to retrieve the car from Scholar Green where I'd parked it what seemed like ages ago - it was a fortnight - and drive down from there. Things didn't start well. The first train, from Skipton to Leeds, stopped for 45 minutes while an attempted suicide was dealt with. Then it was an empty but slow train to Manchester Piccadilly; a packed one to Crewe; and another one to Kidsgrove from where I cycled to Scholar Green. Would the car still be there? Would it start? Well, yes and yes, thankfully. But then a four hour drive to Godmanchester.


Auntie Pauline at 80

Arrived as the party was winding down. Some guests had already gone home. And I'd left the boat for a whole week, as I was off to sing in France, with Jan and a prep school choir. A great trip: sang in Chartres Cathedral, Versailles, Orleans Cathedral and Notre Dame in Paris.


David saw this on his way back to Skipton

Meanwhile David returned to the boat at 2300. "Dulwich", which had dogged us ever since Standedge Tunnel, was moored close by.