WEEK 10--Singing HMS Pinafore

Last Saturday night I, along with my fellow Ladies Who Lark, sang in a scratch performance of HMS Pinafore. The men's and women's choruses rehearsed in the afternoon, under the baton of Cathy Lamb (sitting crossed legged on front row in the photo). At one point she said 'Just hurl yourself at any note and it will be marvelous!' The entrance requirement for Ladies Who Lark is not intimidatingly high, as I may have mentioned in an earlier blog. But I like to feel we have made great strides. Surely this is the case. Why, at one point during our Monday evening session Cathy was so struck by our musicality that she said, 'You actually sounded like a real choir then!'

The evening was hugely exciting, and qualifies as a genuine first for me. I've always wanted to sing some G&S. As a girl in the 70s one of the highlights of the year was going to the Vale Gilbert and Sullivan Society performance in the Victoria Hall, Tring. The thrill of this occasion for a child growing up in rural Buckinghamshire without a TV cannot be described. To get an equivalent buzz at my age last Saturday's Pinafore would probably have had to be performed off bungee ropes with the entire cast of True Blood. In the nude.

Still, even without naked vampires, it was as I said, hugely exciting. The soloists' parts were taken by members of Lichfield Cathedral Choir, Lichfield Cathedral Chamber Choir and the congregation. Our cathedral organist, Martyn Rawles, (front row, far right), accompanied on the piano. The hoi poloi got to sing, or occasionally mime, as sisters, cousins and aunts, or jolly jack tars. The event was well-attended which is encouraging, as it was a fundraiser for the Choral Foundation. Singers were charged (or possibly fined) £10. But hey, we got to dress up. I love dressing up. I sometimes almost wish I were ordained. That's me in the photo, extreme right, with an exploding red cabbage on my head. I was allowed to join the photo call on the grounds that I'd written the the narrator's part, which was read by our local ham. Sorry, that should have read, our local MP, Michael Fabricant. I would like to take this opportunity to say that the rude bits were all ad libbed.

Week 5 Joining a Choir

This is not the top secret new thing, (that’s still embargoed) this is just your regular new thing. Regular both in the irritating coffee shop sense of ‘standard’ and the proper sense of ‘taking place at regular intervals.’ There are several things that annoy me about coffee shops. 'Do you want any cakes or pastries with that?' Look, dumb dumb, if I wanted a muffin, I’d ask for one. After all, I mustered the courage to ask for an americano. Or do you suppose I simply hadn’t noticed the array of carbs I’ve just queued beside for 5 minutes? Gosh, cakes and pastries! Hadn’t occurred to me!

Anyway.

My new thing: joining a choir. Or more precisely, voluntarily joining a choir as an adult. I was in the choir at primary school mainly because we got to sing showy descants in assembly. We were hated by the growlers who’d been poked in the back and told to shut up. This was the 70s, of course. Poking children in the back is now frowned upon. It's gone the way of birching. Political correctness gone mad. I was also forced to sing in the Junior House Choir at grammar school for the House Music competition. We all were. Down by the Salley Gardens, miming the high notes. I can remember it word for word: ‘She [mime] me take [mime] easy, as the leaves grow in the-[mime] treeeeee.’

Banishing that memory, I made my way to the Cathedral School music room earlier tonight. On my way I met the school chaplain. ‘I assume you aren’t joining the Ladies who Lark,’ I said. ‘Not without surgery,’ he replied. There were around 30 of us, most of whom I know by sight from around the Close and in the congregation. I should also know them by name after 4 years, but I’m crap at names. I’m increasingly crap at faces these days, too. I am, however, extremely good at blagging. It’s part of the skill set of a clergy wife. Lovely larky ladies, all. Especially those, whatever they are called, who happen to be reading this post.

I unexpectedly found myself free to join this choir when my Monday judo session has closed. I went along interested to see what differences and similarities there are between singing and fighting. Here are my observations. Differences: 1. you sweat less in a choir than in a dojo, unless perhaps you are conducting. Our conductor and trainer is Cathy Lamb (one half of the Director of Music). She, of course, being a lady like the rest of us, merely glows. 2. I didn't have an opportunity to strangle anyone. Early days, mind you. 3. it costs less (a £1 donation as opposed to £5 for a judo session). Similarities. 1. warm-up exercises. 2. Familiar sense of personal incompetence. 3. Unlike Junior House Choir at Aylesbury High School for Gels in 1974, but like rolling around the floor with blokes in white pyjamas, IT WAS GREAT FUN!

Tonight we were rehearsing Psalms 150, and 23 which will be our contribution to the Psalmathon on Sat 5th Feb. We also did some work for a ‘Come and sing’ performance of HMS Pinafore on 5th March. ‘Gaily tripping, lightly skipping.’ What larks in the music room.