Let us go singing as far as we go: the road will be less tedious

The day last week’s blog came out, I was trundling along on my bike in the usual way when I noticed a friend in the distance. It’s hard to wave enthusiastically while staying upright, but somehow, I managed it. It was Andy, husband of Clare, father of Lana. 

(Check out last week’s blog if you’ve forgotten who they are. https://bigwordsandmadeupstories.blogspot.com/2020/04/i-want-to-ride-my-bicycle-i-want-to.html). We had a jolly good chat about cooking and what inspires us which is what next week’s blog is going to be about.

Just outside the Greyhound, I ran into Jim and his impossibly bronzed set of limbs (how does he do it?) and Lynette, both of them taking advantage of the pub’s Finish at Home selection. Further down the road, there were the lovely Jenny and Alan. I promised to include them all in this week’s blog. And so I have.[1]

It’s a funny old business, being a writer. It’s solitary, for a start. You sit gazing at a blank screen, an idea pops into your head and suddenly you’ve written 600 words. I used to be terrified of hitting “publish” but not any more. I wasn’t sure how my account of my bike ride through the Suffolk lanes would go down – was it too self-indulgent? – but it’s been one of the most commented upon and shared. I’ve learned that writing from the heart and sharing encouraging things seems to strike a chord.

This week is no exception. I went to a concert last Friday. Gosh it was good! My seat was very comfortable, I was able to quaff a glass of wine, no-one coughed or annoyed me by rustling sweet wrappers and it didn’t matter that I was wearing my slippers. Pourquoi? It was the inaugural performance by Classical Suffolk, a brilliant wheeze put together by two utterly delightful people, Christina Johnston, the internationally renowned opera and crossover star, and Richard Garrett, Ipswich-based sound engineer to the stars. They’d met at a concert I’d been involved in to support the Beehive Nakuru and really hit it off. With Christina’s beautiful voice and Richard’s technical skills, they performed a few free concerts for elderly people in nursing homes before social distancing guidelines became stricter. Nothing daunted, they’ve set up Classical Suffolk (https://www.facebook.com/classicalsuffolk/) which broadcasts a weekly concert every Friday at 7 pm.

I’ve been to a number of Christina’s concerts in the past. Classical Suffolk’s lack of an actual live audience must be difficult for a performer, but with her husband Slava and the incorrigible Richard providing encouragement and technical support, she’s able to interact with her online audience.

Watching Christina singing on-screen, I forgot that she was standing in her music studio in Felixstowe with a black backdrop and that I was lying on my bed. Her beautiful voice lifted my spirits and between songs, she read out comments from fans on social media. It was such a huge success that she and Richard have decided to put on a weekly lock down concert.

Both Christina and Richard are self-employed and have seen the businesses they’ve worked so hard for come to a standstill, for now. One of the many reasons I think so much of both of them is that they have dusted themselves down, picked themselves up and decided to use their considerable talents to entertain others. They are both full of compassion, kindness, generosity and humanity, qualities I value very highly.

Christina has sung to heads of states, to packed houses all over the world and is a proper famous person. Richard has worked with some of the biggest and starriest names in music. And yet both of them have taken that meeting at Framlingham College a few months ago and worked it up into a wonderful thing that can make us all forget, at least for a little while, that our world is not as we would like it to be.

All you have to do is click here: https://www.facebook.com/classicalsuffolk/. You can even request a favourite song (up to four days before the concert.) I’ll be in the front row tomorrow.

And finally, what do you think of my title? I wanted something inspiring and came across these words spoken by a man born in 70 BC, the Roman poet Virgil. They worked for me – how about you?

See you at the concert.

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[1] Social distancing was maintained with all these encounters. At least 4 metres apart, shouty voices.

Sax on the balcony

It’s been quite a week. My last post managed not to mention the C word at all, instead looking back fondly at loud nights and sticky carpets. There was a sad lack of loo rolls and pasta in the UK this time last week, but as I write, we are now going back to the type of rationing not seen since the Fifties. Here at Big Word Towers, we are the proud owners of 8 actual toilet rolls, a couple of packets of kitchen roll and endless supplies of newspapers. One way or another, the five derrières residing here will make it through. And who needs pasta anyway?

But as I often say, let other pens dwell on guilt and misery[1]. There’s plenty to worry about, if we choose to, lots to question and second-guess. The truth is, none of us know what’s going to happen. As I write, I’ve just heard that all schools and colleges will be closing on Friday afternoon. This may mean that my last child at primary school won’t have a Year 6 play, reward trips or sit her SATS at school. Today, as I watched the children running around on the field playing football, swinging off the gym trail and rushing round in the bushes, I realised that this might be almost the last time for us. I’ve spent the last 13 years at that school and it could be coming to an end, abruptly, unexpectedly. In the grand scheme of things, however, this is not big news. I’ll feel a pang on Friday, but there are other more important things to dwell on.

If you turn your eyes away from scenes of people fighting each other in supermarkets for the last packet of tagliatelle, you’ll see heart-warming examples of community spirit, compassion and kindness. Last week, I heard a story on the radio that warmed my heart. A music teacher in Italy, confined to barracks as everyone is, came out on to his balcony and played, “Ode to Joy” on the saxophone to lift his neighbours’ spirits. You can see him here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVmOuQMsrQM. In the last few days, Italians all over the country have come out on to their balconies to sing, play an instrument or wave and smile at their neighbours. The Italians are a fiercely community-minded nation, big on family, celebration and good food. La passeggiata, the traditional walk in the evening has been replaced by community singing and playing from balconies, and by the posting of encouraging messages.

Closer to home, I’ve been encouraged by the many Facebook groups set up in our village and nearby to help the elderly, isolated and vulnerable keep afloat at a very difficult time. Yesterday afternoon, I read a post on Facebook which made me smile and feel emotional all at the same time. The lovely Christina Johnston (you may remember her from this blog: https://bigwordsandmadeupstories.blogspot.com/2019/11/hitting-high-notes.html) is a self-employed opera singer. All her concerts have been cancelled until September. Rather than wallowing in self-pity, or letting fear rule her life, she has chosen instead to share her beautiful voice with others who can’t get out. She’ll be singing outside Mill Lane Nursing and Residential Home in Felixstowe this afternoon and then again in Ipswich. She has offered to sing outside any nursing home or establishment where elderly or vulnerable people are self-isolating. She sings like an angel and she is generously sharing her gift with those who are stuck indoors. Here’s a link to her singing – enjoy it and feel free to share. Beautiful things are rare in our world at the moment and they need to be celebrated. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8za2_4T00jM

The good has to outweigh the bad, or else who are we? What makes us human? As I was about to hit, "publish", another story of kindness popped up. Our local greengrocer in Woodbridge (that lovely one on the way to the Thoroughfare, for the benefit of local readers) is not only offering free local deliveries, but took on all the stock from the Friends' (PTA) group at a local primary school for resale, saving them from a massive loss. 

We don’t know what’s going to happen. These are frightening and uncertain times. But if we can focus on the good – the unselfish, the giving, the altruistic amongst us – we will get through this, together. 

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[1] Not my own line. It’s Jane Austen. But a quote from one of the classics adds such a touch of class to one’s blog, don’t you think?

When is a bench not a bench?

My husband and I are devoted fans of the BBC show “Detectorists.” Not a huge amount happens in it. Two friends, Lance and Andy, wander over the fields metal detecting, chatting about University Challenge, ring pulls and the never-seen but often discussed Bob Cromer (poor old Bob). We love the humour, the characterisation, the music and of course the setting. The fictional Essex town of Danebury is actually Framlingham, just up the road from us in East Suffolk. From time to time, we amuse ourselves by taking a trip over there to tick locations off our lists. Some are really obvious. The Castle pub is the exterior of the Two Brewers, much loved by the DMDC, while its interior is the Crown up the A12 at Great Glemham. Lance’s house is just up from the church, which itself makes several appearances in all three series. However, there are the odd locations which have us completely stumped.

In no particular order, here they are:

1.    The bench where Lance sits waiting for Kate while Sophie and Peter spy on him.

2.    Andy and Becky’s house.

3.    Lance’s place of work, the fruit and veg yard.

Framlingham College sits on a hill looking over the Mere and the castle immortalised by Suffolk’s own Ed Sheeran. It appears several times in Detectorists, both inside and out. I was there on Monday, having a meeting with two of its fine staff. We started chatting about the show and to my delight, both Tracey and Tom were a mine of information as they hosted the cast and crew a fair bit during filming.

That bench, for which we’ve searched many times in vain, was brought in by the crew and placed in a meadow alongside a fake lamp post and bin. It looked so real. It wasn’t. No wonder we couldn’t find it. The yard which Lance roars into in his yellow TR7 is actually on Bentwaters, the old RAF base in Rendlesham. The police station is the exterior of a college boarding house (complete with fake sign) and the hypnotherapy centre where Lance goes to try to cure his seasickness is a number of locations around the college.

As we chatted, we agreed that things look so different on the TV to the way they do in real life. The closest we viewers get is when we watch the DVD extras (told you we were fans) and get to see a scene surrounded by all the paraphernalia of filming. Dollies and dolly tracks, people with clapperboards, sound equipment, make up ladies hovering in the background. You know they’re there, but when you’re watching the show, you pretend they're not.

Like the concept of  the willing suspension of disbelief (you read a work of fiction, you know it’s all made up but you agree with the author to pretend it’s real), TV shows sell themselves to us by encouraging us to believe that it’s just two men trudging over a muddy Suffolk field with their detectors, even though we know that they’re surrounded by the crew.

A bench that is not a bench. A solitary field peopled by crowds of invisible workers. So much in life appears to be one thing but is actually quite another. Friendships which start well but soon falter. Jobs which promise much but turn out to be a pointless slog. Social media posts about perfect lives which mask great sadness.

I was at the College to chat about the upcoming concert by Christina Johnston there this Saturday. Looking at pictures of Christina (I’ve attached one), you might think she is some kind of semi-divine being who lives in a tower somewhere, clad in beautiful gowns 24/7. In fact, she is the most delightful, down-to-earth person who is very modest about her God-given talent. I’ve shared in the past how she’s converted me to opera (well, some of it) with her beautiful voice. She is the real thing, unlike that bench. If you want to come and enjoy a wonderful evening, click here to find out more: https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/christina-johnston-concert-miracle-of-the-voice-tickets-77908102231?fbclid=IwAR1ta9mLd4Wgo7mcWfP4-3YHSsh8i7vLZmNsakjiL2n8wz2nUhNhgRh1FHY

As I’ve grown older, I’ve started to learn discernment and to distinguish what’s real from what’s fake. Just like that bench, not everything is in its correct place, but there is plenty out there to enjoy to and to believe in. And now all we need to do is track down Andy and Becky's house. Anyone out there with any ideas.....?

Image by Pixabay

Hitting the high notes

I can’t sing. You know when people say that and you’re expected to disagree with them. “Yes, you can. You have a beautiful voice. You shouldn’t be so modest.”

No. Honestly. I really can’t. The only time I sing (and I use that word advisedly) is in the car by myself with the windows tightly closed and on the way to gymnastics in Ipswich on a Monday night with my 11-year old daughter. She doesn’t mind, or doesn’t notice that I can’t carry a tune.

I’m always incredibly impressed by anyone who can stand up on a stage, open their mouth and sing. I can’t imagine what that might feel like and I very much doubt I will ever get the chance to find out.

One of our favourite CDs is “Blessings” by Christina Johnston. At some point, my daughter will always turn to me and say, “Mummy, how does she make those noises with her voice?” And I reply, “Practice. And a whole lot of talent.” Or words to that effect.

Christina is a Suffolk girl who has become an internationally celebrated coloratura soprano. I didn’t know what that meant either. It’s someone who is able to sing elaborate melodies with runs, trills and leaps. To hear what I mean, click here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DMUTFkrj_bI.

Christina is not only an incredibly talented singer, she is a kind, generous and giving person too. She’s one of Framlingham’s greatest exports (along with Ed Sheeran, Matthew Sheeran and Laura Wright – is there something in the water?) In spite of a dazzling CV including singing for many world leaders, appearing on stage, making an album with Matt Sheeran and being personally invited by Jose Carreras to sing with him at his farewell concert, Christina has come back home to live in Suffolk and gives of her talent generously to help good causes.

One of these is the amazing work done by my friends Jane and Alan Hutt at The Beehive Nakuru. https://beehiveafrica.org/. They left Suffolk to go and set up a loving family home for very young girls and their babies six years ago. They know Christina from church and she is kindly giving a concert in Ipswich this Saturday to help them.

Believe me when I tell you that listening to Christina is like hearing an angel sing. That’s not my trademark hyperbole. At her last concert in Framlingham, I was wandering around setting everything up while she was practicing, and her beautiful voice soaring up to the rafters brought tears to my eyes. I’m not a crier, and while I love music, it doesn’t usually touch me like that. Writing and poetry, yes. Music, not usually. But there’s something about Christina and her God-given talent that does move me to tears. Listening to her hitting the high notes (and she really, really does) is a beautiful and uplifting experience.

If you’d like to come and hear her for yourself, please click on this link: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10162411839520052&set=gm.722999778200766&type=3&theater

There are still a few tickets left. Last time Christina sang for us, we sold out. It was standing room only and with good reason. Let me know if you’d like me to reserve some tickets. She’s inspired me to write at least two pieces so far and I can’t wait to hear her sing again on Saturday.

I can’t sing. Honestly. I can’t. But I can write and I hope my words will give you the chance to listen to a voice which has no equal, in my humble opinion.