The Choir

Watching the lovely Gareth Malone and his results in forming a choir I was reminded of my own efforts when I was running the local Girl Guide Company.  One of my Guides had attained Her Queen's Guide Badge, a rare event so we decided to have a Parents Evening and put on some entertainment.  We had already learnt two country dances and we would follow this with some folk songs.  But first we had to form a choir.  All the girls were used to singing at school and were keen to take part.  All was going as merry as a wedding bell except for one snag.  Sally , a small enthusiastic girl in the front row sang very, very loud and very, very flat.  What to do?  I didn't want to hurt her feelings so diplomacy had to come into play.  I had a brainwave.  I would make her the conductor!  I explained to her that she didn't have to sing, just keep time and make sure everybody started and ended together.   Rehearsals went well after that.  Two weeks before the Parents Evening a new Girl Guide arrived and joined the choir.  She sang very, very loud and very, very flat!

My English daughter-in-law came to stay with me at the beginning of this month to keep me company while my family had a break in the Lake District.  It was very kind of her as her own parents have health problems and she needs to spend time with them.  The weather was fine and mild while she was here so she was able to go for long walks.  I had told her about a book I had listened to by Margaret Powell who wrote about her years in domestic service in the twenties and thirties.  I remember hearing her on the radio in "Woman's Hour".  She tells of growing up in Hove.  On one of her walks Jan passed a house with a blue plaque saying Margaret Powell lived there.
After many days of mild sunny weather the nights have turned cold.  The moon shining bright in a clear sky, a sign of frost to come.  This change in the weather has made me realise I must start thinking about Christmas so pen and paper to the fore.  Let the list-making begin!

As a small child I was encouraged by my mother to recite poetry as my party piece whenever we had visitors.  I don't remember being shy about this.  I suppose I was a bit of a show-off.  My mother could remember lots of poems from her schooldays so I thought it quite a natural thing to do.   I can remember standing on a kitchen chair to do this when the ladies from the Girl Guides came at Christmas to bring us presents.  At school I was often chosen to say  a piece at at prayer time or at a concert.  But pride comes before a fall.  Mother and I were invited to tea with the ladies from the Guides.  After tea we were invited in to the study to meet their Father, a somewhat formidable gentleman called the Reverend Archibald Fleming.  I duly said my poem.  He then asked me what I liked best at school.  I said "Spelling  "Oh" he said.  "Spell study".  To my shame I could not.  I had never heard the word.  Nobody I knew had a study.  When it was explained to me afterwards I didn't know people had special rooms for reading and writing.  An early lesson in the difference between the classes!

Family Matters

I recently enjoyed a visit from my brother's grandson  and his family.   To my surprise I discovered a few months ago that he works for a company in Denmark that makes wind turbines. This company was involved in making parts for the memorial at the crash site in Stadil. (www.ee138.net)  He said on his next visit toDenmark he would like to visit the grave of his great uncle so I put him in touch with our Danish friends.    They were happy to entertain him and he found the visit most interesting.  The long arm of coincidence.