Don't lick the chickens
I am delighted to start this blog post with the news that there have been no further incidents regarding wrong island/ wrong time front. That being said, I do suffer from severe paranoia now - even after double (triple!) checking on a Saturday evening the time and place of a choir practice the next day I still was hit by nerves en route as I drove to church. And of course, if I see a car in the distance the same colour as the priests', that sets my heart going! It got so bad that I even started dreaming of being in the wrong place. The night before playing at the care home in Herøy, I dreamed that I had forgotten the service and gone straight to practice in the church instead. In this dream I realised just after 11 that I had a service to play so ran downstairs, jumped on my bike (which I don't have) and started pedalling as fast as I could to the old folks' home. Just as I start cycling, Liv-Helga phones me to ask where I am, and I saying sorry, sorry, sorry I'm on my way. I think I must have woken up at the point as I don't recall anything after that bit. Oh how I had a good chortle to myself that morning and thought I must remember to tell Liv-Helga that story when I get there. And I continued to chortle as I drove to Herøy, right up to the moment, roughly a third of the way there, when I realised I had forgotten to pack my music. Once again, I had to turn back, drive fast and cross my fingers re the battery in the car.
The only other major (I exaggerate, it was minor) bit of incompetence was at the service in Løkta where, while playing the introduction to a hymn I happened to glance at the order of service beside my music and noted that the hymn I was meant to be introducing bore absolutely no resemblance to the hymn the congregation were meant to be singing. I had just clocked this and was trying to come to a dignified conclusion to my prelude when Liv-Helga's head appeared around the corner suggesting that I might want to check which tune I was playing. Or words to that effect. I had typed the wrong hymn number into my iPad so fortunately it was quickly rectified. But on the plus side, I had a magnificently successful time at the lotto after the service - not that I needed any extra jam (see below)
After what I felt was a very grim start to the year as regards my organ playing (at least of voluntaries), I do feel that I have turned a corner and tend to come away from a service reasonably satisfied with how I've played.
During the year, I actually changed my method of choosing what music to play - previously I'd go on various websites or look at church programmes and see what was suggested as being appropriate to the particular Sunday and then try and find copies of the pieces online or in my own library. Obviously I still take into account the church year but it eventually occurred to me that I have been lugging from house to house, city to city, country to country a huge pile of organ music, and it might be an idea to actually use what I own. So I now sit down and browse through what I've got, take into consideration which churches I will be playing at and then choose the music accordingly.
This did give me an opportunity to finally pay a small personal tribute to a dear friend who died a few years back. Ann was a lovely soul who was a loyal member of a number of my choirs and in the months leading up to her death I spent a lot of time with her. We shared some lovely times - we had a shared interest in going through rubbish catalogues and going "ooh I'd like that". Indeed, one of my favourite t-shirts ("My poor knowledge of Greek myths has always been my Achilles' elbow") was a gift from her. Anyway, after she died, I inherited some of her CDs, and I got it into my head that she liked the music of Jan Pieterson Sweelinck. Now that I am choosing music from my own library, I was able to programme a piece by him and play it in her memory. Obviously, nobody in the congregation would have any idea but it was nice to spend a bit of time remembering her.
On a similar note to all my organ music, now that I've got downstairs sorted (and particularly now that I've had some heating put in), I've started spending a bit more time down there: in the morning I do my Norwegian practice and listen to a Bach cantata while in the evening I have started working through my records (again, I've been lugging them around for years and it certainly wasn't cheap to get them here) so I leave my phone and iPad upstairs and sit back and enjoy them with no distractions. At the weekend I've been watching DVDs and it's amazing noticing how much more I'm picking up. I've watched the Dam Busters many times but was shocked by how much I hadn't remembered/ noticed before.
Above and behind this TV there is a shelf upon which I proudly display my Dam Busters plate collection. Many years ago when I was still living with my parents, I saw an advert for the first plate which assured me that this would be a limited edition and a worthwhile investment which would undoubtedly grow in value over time. I didn't realise at the time that it was part of a series and I recall being somewhat surprised when a second plate turned up (I presumably must have set up a direct debit). Anyway in the end my collection ended up as containing nine plates. Alas, disaster struck Chateau de Stevenson here in Norway and one morning I discovered a couple of plates smashed on the floor. No idea how it happened but I do have my suspicions (yes, I'm looking at you Finrod!). An emergency call went out to my children to see if they might be able to assist in replacing the missing plates. I'm sure they were really pleased to be reminded of this collection and I'm sure they're already anticipating the day when they get to fight over who inherits it - it so happens that Amy managed to source the two required so I'm sure she'll be delighted to have moved into prime position for that. (A coincidence she was born on the anniversary of the raid....?) It should be noted that the investment part of this has not paid off - she got the 2 plates for approximately a 1/3 of what I recall paying for just one brand new. I console myself with the thought that due to these breakages, the edition is just slightly more limited than it already was.
I've got some fruit trees in my garden - an apple tree and a couple of plum trees. The apples don't tend to be very good but there are vast amounts of plums every year which I normally let the neighbours take. This year I decided to make jam with them and I have to be honest, I shed a tear of pride when I filled my first jar. But goodness me I had no idea what a faff it was to take all the stones out - in my mind I had allowed for 10/15 minutes to do that. I was soon put right on that. Nonetheless, a successful batch of jam was made which seemed to be edible although I suspect it is more "sugar jam with a hint of plum" rather than the other way round. On the rather wonderful Finn.no website I managed to source a couple of Keiller jam jars with which I am rather pleased.
I was asked to go and accompany some rehearsals in Mosjøen for a performance of Bach's Christmas Oratorio. It was great fun to sit and bash away at some of the great choruses and enjoy the exquisite harmonies in the choral settings. I can't have played too badly as I was asked back to play for a couple of more rehearsals.
It was at the time of this first Bach rehearsal that King Harald V of Norway died. He was obviously very popular, and people were very moved at his passing. I hadn't realised that he was the first Norwegian-born king to inherit the title since 1380!
Thank you to those of you who complimented my paint work in my living room - it is much appreciated. I liked the blue colour so much that I painted the interior behind the driving seat of my car the same colour. Obviously I hadn't intended to do that but Katya asked if she could have the left over paint and as my ever-obliging self I took it across to her in Løkta . Of course, I probably should have checked the lid was sealed before I set off.... at least I was wise enough to put the paint on the floor rather than the seat itself.
In a moment of unbridled and uncharacteristic enthusiasm, I had a word with my colleagues over the summer that I'd like to try and participate a bit more with the Konfirmants - I figured it would be good for working on my Norwegian. Unfortunately my colleagues actually remembered this conversation and thus I was invited along to the opening meetings on both Herøy and Dønna. I was asked to talk about the organ but once I explained that I knew absolutely nothing regarding the technical side we settled on a few interesting facts. I thought it might be "fun" to compare the instrument they were looking at to the Wannamaker organ in Philadelphia e.g. the organ in Dønnes Kirke has less than 300 pipes, while the Wannamaker has 28, 762. Dønnes - 6 ranks; Wannamaker 465 etc. I finished both talks with a short quiz. I told them that my postludes on Sunday were between 4 and 5 minutes. the famous Bach Toccata and Fugue in d is say 9 minutes; how long do you think longest organ piece in the world is. I was chuffed that they entered into the spirit and there wasn't dead silence (particularly reassuring in that at least I knew they had understood at least some of what I had said). I did find it a little amusing when they jokingly guessed "3 days" and I replied "nope, longer". I told them about John Cage’s Organ²/ASLSP which is being performed at St. Burchardi Church, Halberstadt and it is due to last over 600 years. I asked them to bear that in mind if they felt my postludes were a little too long.
A final thanks to those who responded to my "Sunday Letters Project" plea. I've enjoyed spending a bit of time each Sunday sitting down with the old-fashioned pen and paper and jotting down some missives. If you would like to get a letter, please do let me know - it's lovely to hear from you.
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