Singing Sensations (Another vignette)
Tuesday morning, 11.00.
I get off the bus at the Village Shop - it feels like the crack of dawn but I have already been into the nearest town to sign on and buy some essential toiletries. Still not quite sure how the extremely strange bus system actually works I pressed the button to ask the driver to stop at the next stop but he just pulled over right there and then. I think about going into the shop to buy some emergency supplies but decide I'll have an apple when I get home instead. While I am deliberating this point however, I notice an A4 sheet stuck in the window.
"Do you love singing? Join Pippa, Claire and Liz in the Community Centre on Thursday at 19.30" hmm... I consider this for a while as I am strolling towards the house; a village singing group... might be good. On the other hand, it might be desperate. We'll see, I think to myself as I let myself into the house.
Thursday evening, 18.50.
I think about what to wear to the "Singy Thing" as I have come to refer to it in my head. I don't know what kind of affair this will be and I do not know what one is expected to wear to any kind of "Village Function". I decide not to change and simply brush my hair, pull on a cardigan and walk up the road. At the end of our street, I come to the conclusion that I am in need of chocolate and take a total detour back to the Village Shop in order to procure some fruit and nut made by a certain company whose packaging colour of choice is purple. Obviously, now I am late. And, when I arrive at the Community Centre, it takes me a few minutes to work out how to get in. It is yet another Village Building with a very strange entrance system; there is a door which is not a door and the actual door is tucked away round the side... I find myself following a rather elderly lady through the door since despite the fact that I have managed to locate the door, I still don't really know where I am going... I sidle into the hall looking around me suspiciously. Sat around in a sort of messy semi-circle are about ten Villagers who are all over fifty years old and belting out "Michael row your boat ashore" lustily if not entirely tunefully. I grimace inwardly, as I pick up the sheaf of papers that lies on the chair to which I am directed. Michael row the boat ashore, is to be followed, it seems, by What shall we do with a drunken sailor and then, by Sailing, I am sailing - (yes, the Rod Stewart "classic"). I think briefly about running for the hills but I realise that I am in now, and leaving would just be rude; I will have to make the best of it. The Community Centre is painted white, the room we are in is completely bare save for a couple of trestle tables and several stacks of those plastic chairs, and on the walls are a bunch of notices about various activities to be hosted here at some point in the future. After we have sung through What shall we do with a drunken sailor, a woman with strawberry blonde, frizzy hair, dressed in an orange cardigan stands up and begins to welcome us all to the evening. In a moment, she says, Claire will stand up and say a bit about why we started this group but before that, she wants to welcome all of us, especially those she doesn't know... She introduces Liz at the harmonium and explains that Liz is an expert pianist but that she is not used to playing that thing, which doesn't have enough notes. Oh... good... So, Claire goes on to explain, inspired by some telly programme about a choir which I have never seen, they wanted to form a group for people who just love singing. Maybe you've always wanted to sing and try things vocally, but you've never believed you have any talent in that direction. This group is for you. At this point I am already trying not to run from the room, screaming and she commits the mortal sin of mentioning John Rutter and the fact that he says in some interview that singing releases the same endorphins as chocolate... Does it...? So, she carries on in one of those bright, positive type tones that really annoy me if I am in a bad mood, we just thought that we really wanted to just come together and well, sing, really. One thing we are NOT interested in, is performing. I assure myself that I am doing a (wo)manful job of keeping my disappointment off my face and grinning brightly I pick up the papers again and prepare to belt out These are a few of my favourite things; everyone except me comes in late on the second verse so I feel like a total plonker. Which is ridiculous because I am right. It only gets worse as just after the first time round, a rather rotund fellow joins us and immediately leans over my space to tell "Keith" that he won't make golf on Saturday... These are a few of my favourite things, is followed by Eidelweiss and then, Pippa announces, we will take a short break and have a glass of water and get to know each other. I sit in my chair like a lemon while Keith and his friend discuss the golf and the ladies flock around the water jugs. Eventually, the lady after whom I had ventured into the hall returns to her seat and wants to know what I have written on my T-shirt. What I have written on my T-shirt is "Hand over all your chocolate and nobody gets hurt". At least that is a conversation starter and as I get chatting to the lady whose name is unspellable but sounds like Loider, she is in her own words, ancient and describes everyone she approves of as a good egg. She's in the middle of explaining her desire to move to Teignmouth because she needs more help than she is getting where she is at the moment, when Claire makes a bee-line for us. Do I live in the Village? Oh I've just come back from Japan? How exciting... I must introduce you to Pippa, she's Stephen-the-vicar's-wife. It's Pippa and Stephen's dog that has been wandering around the hall since we began singing, demanding attention from us at random, a huge white thing vaguely resembling a giant beagle with the odd pale brown patch, I had been suspicious at first but I have warmed to the beast, whose name appears to be Saffron, since. Since Claire and Loider seem to be acquainted with the Anglican vicar, I decide to ask them if they know the Methodist Minister since I have been to the Anglican service and sadly found it a little staid for my own tastes. Neither of them have any idea where the Methodists were on Sunday but after a brief discussion of why the Anglican service is so rigid and their desperate need for the Mission Praise Hymn book, Loider suggests that I try the Methodists in Shaldon; that's the next Village and that's where she tends to go. It's more lively, she continues and I'll probably find some people closer to my own age, it's full of jolly good eggs. Perhaps I'll go in a couple of weeks, I have commitments for the next two Sundays. That's a shame, Loider tells me, the Methodist Minister's "side-kick" is a marvellous woman who is having her second wedding blessed this Sunday and I am invited. Loider reminds me of a jolly good friend of mine in Tokyo and she's about the same age as he is, too; I suspect that we will get along famously if we continue to meet, but I still can't go on Sunday... By this point, I have been introduced to Pippa who also thinks that Tokyo sounds exiting and more to the point, thinks that I am absolutely marvellous for venturing out on my own into a room full of people I don't know. Well, I suppose that's one way of looking at it.... mad, would be another. The evening of singing continues with a selection of popular classics such as We shall overcome and He's got the whole world in His hands, both of which are notorious for making me cringe; I struggle not to grimace as we sing through them and am about to breathe a sigh of relief when Pippa stands up and starts talking about how much fun it will be to "play around" with these pieces. By which, it turns out, she means harmonise, my face twitches as Pippa goes on to demonstrate some "possible things people could do, if they were feeling adventurous". (At some point, Pippa simply must have been a primary school teacher.) I just sing all the alto lines. This goes on for another few numbers and then I feel the blood drain from my face as Pippa announces that the last song we will do comes from the local school. It's only short I tell myself, 6 lines, how bad can it be...really...? So, Pippa says... we'll sing it seven times. I am sure my face is already a picture. The first time, Liz will play it through, the second time, Pippa will sing by herself, the third time, Pippa will sing and the rest of us (who should have picked up the tune by now) will hum along. The fourth time, the ladies will join in and the fifth, the men will join us all. The sixth time we'll all give it some SERIOUS welly and the seventh... well we'll just know what to do... we'll let the music guide us. By this point I am having a very tough time not running from the room and throwing up into a handy bucket (I'm sure there will be one) because the words to this song are so cheesy they are putrid, all about unity in song and I am fairly sure that the tune will be equally as cheesy and I am not disappointed. When we have finally finished, there is some confusion as Liz thinks she has to play it one more time by herself but Pippa and Claire have already started thanking us all for coming, telling us that they didn't want to overdo it so the next one will be in a month's time and could they please extract funds from us all in order to cover the cost of the room and the photocopying... After a brief chat with Pippa, it turns out that Loider and I are going the same way, and we have a nice little conversation about how disgraceful it is that no one seems to be able to use an apostrophe correctly these days. I offer to walk her right to her door but she says she will be fine, and I go into the house for a cup of tea and a nice sit down.
I get off the bus at the Village Shop - it feels like the crack of dawn but I have already been into the nearest town to sign on and buy some essential toiletries. Still not quite sure how the extremely strange bus system actually works I pressed the button to ask the driver to stop at the next stop but he just pulled over right there and then. I think about going into the shop to buy some emergency supplies but decide I'll have an apple when I get home instead. While I am deliberating this point however, I notice an A4 sheet stuck in the window.
"Do you love singing? Join Pippa, Claire and Liz in the Community Centre on Thursday at 19.30" hmm... I consider this for a while as I am strolling towards the house; a village singing group... might be good. On the other hand, it might be desperate. We'll see, I think to myself as I let myself into the house.
Thursday evening, 18.50.
I think about what to wear to the "Singy Thing" as I have come to refer to it in my head. I don't know what kind of affair this will be and I do not know what one is expected to wear to any kind of "Village Function". I decide not to change and simply brush my hair, pull on a cardigan and walk up the road. At the end of our street, I come to the conclusion that I am in need of chocolate and take a total detour back to the Village Shop in order to procure some fruit and nut made by a certain company whose packaging colour of choice is purple. Obviously, now I am late. And, when I arrive at the Community Centre, it takes me a few minutes to work out how to get in. It is yet another Village Building with a very strange entrance system; there is a door which is not a door and the actual door is tucked away round the side... I find myself following a rather elderly lady through the door since despite the fact that I have managed to locate the door, I still don't really know where I am going... I sidle into the hall looking around me suspiciously. Sat around in a sort of messy semi-circle are about ten Villagers who are all over fifty years old and belting out "Michael row your boat ashore" lustily if not entirely tunefully. I grimace inwardly, as I pick up the sheaf of papers that lies on the chair to which I am directed. Michael row the boat ashore, is to be followed, it seems, by What shall we do with a drunken sailor and then, by Sailing, I am sailing - (yes, the Rod Stewart "classic"). I think briefly about running for the hills but I realise that I am in now, and leaving would just be rude; I will have to make the best of it. The Community Centre is painted white, the room we are in is completely bare save for a couple of trestle tables and several stacks of those plastic chairs, and on the walls are a bunch of notices about various activities to be hosted here at some point in the future. After we have sung through What shall we do with a drunken sailor, a woman with strawberry blonde, frizzy hair, dressed in an orange cardigan stands up and begins to welcome us all to the evening. In a moment, she says, Claire will stand up and say a bit about why we started this group but before that, she wants to welcome all of us, especially those she doesn't know... She introduces Liz at the harmonium and explains that Liz is an expert pianist but that she is not used to playing that thing, which doesn't have enough notes. Oh... good... So, Claire goes on to explain, inspired by some telly programme about a choir which I have never seen, they wanted to form a group for people who just love singing. Maybe you've always wanted to sing and try things vocally, but you've never believed you have any talent in that direction. This group is for you. At this point I am already trying not to run from the room, screaming and she commits the mortal sin of mentioning John Rutter and the fact that he says in some interview that singing releases the same endorphins as chocolate... Does it...? So, she carries on in one of those bright, positive type tones that really annoy me if I am in a bad mood, we just thought that we really wanted to just come together and well, sing, really. One thing we are NOT interested in, is performing. I assure myself that I am doing a (wo)manful job of keeping my disappointment off my face and grinning brightly I pick up the papers again and prepare to belt out These are a few of my favourite things; everyone except me comes in late on the second verse so I feel like a total plonker. Which is ridiculous because I am right. It only gets worse as just after the first time round, a rather rotund fellow joins us and immediately leans over my space to tell "Keith" that he won't make golf on Saturday... These are a few of my favourite things, is followed by Eidelweiss and then, Pippa announces, we will take a short break and have a glass of water and get to know each other. I sit in my chair like a lemon while Keith and his friend discuss the golf and the ladies flock around the water jugs. Eventually, the lady after whom I had ventured into the hall returns to her seat and wants to know what I have written on my T-shirt. What I have written on my T-shirt is "Hand over all your chocolate and nobody gets hurt". At least that is a conversation starter and as I get chatting to the lady whose name is unspellable but sounds like Loider, she is in her own words, ancient and describes everyone she approves of as a good egg. She's in the middle of explaining her desire to move to Teignmouth because she needs more help than she is getting where she is at the moment, when Claire makes a bee-line for us. Do I live in the Village? Oh I've just come back from Japan? How exciting... I must introduce you to Pippa, she's Stephen-the-vicar's-wife. It's Pippa and Stephen's dog that has been wandering around the hall since we began singing, demanding attention from us at random, a huge white thing vaguely resembling a giant beagle with the odd pale brown patch, I had been suspicious at first but I have warmed to the beast, whose name appears to be Saffron, since. Since Claire and Loider seem to be acquainted with the Anglican vicar, I decide to ask them if they know the Methodist Minister since I have been to the Anglican service and sadly found it a little staid for my own tastes. Neither of them have any idea where the Methodists were on Sunday but after a brief discussion of why the Anglican service is so rigid and their desperate need for the Mission Praise Hymn book, Loider suggests that I try the Methodists in Shaldon; that's the next Village and that's where she tends to go. It's more lively, she continues and I'll probably find some people closer to my own age, it's full of jolly good eggs. Perhaps I'll go in a couple of weeks, I have commitments for the next two Sundays. That's a shame, Loider tells me, the Methodist Minister's "side-kick" is a marvellous woman who is having her second wedding blessed this Sunday and I am invited. Loider reminds me of a jolly good friend of mine in Tokyo and she's about the same age as he is, too; I suspect that we will get along famously if we continue to meet, but I still can't go on Sunday... By this point, I have been introduced to Pippa who also thinks that Tokyo sounds exiting and more to the point, thinks that I am absolutely marvellous for venturing out on my own into a room full of people I don't know. Well, I suppose that's one way of looking at it.... mad, would be another. The evening of singing continues with a selection of popular classics such as We shall overcome and He's got the whole world in His hands, both of which are notorious for making me cringe; I struggle not to grimace as we sing through them and am about to breathe a sigh of relief when Pippa stands up and starts talking about how much fun it will be to "play around" with these pieces. By which, it turns out, she means harmonise, my face twitches as Pippa goes on to demonstrate some "possible things people could do, if they were feeling adventurous". (At some point, Pippa simply must have been a primary school teacher.) I just sing all the alto lines. This goes on for another few numbers and then I feel the blood drain from my face as Pippa announces that the last song we will do comes from the local school. It's only short I tell myself, 6 lines, how bad can it be...really...? So, Pippa says... we'll sing it seven times. I am sure my face is already a picture. The first time, Liz will play it through, the second time, Pippa will sing by herself, the third time, Pippa will sing and the rest of us (who should have picked up the tune by now) will hum along. The fourth time, the ladies will join in and the fifth, the men will join us all. The sixth time we'll all give it some SERIOUS welly and the seventh... well we'll just know what to do... we'll let the music guide us. By this point I am having a very tough time not running from the room and throwing up into a handy bucket (I'm sure there will be one) because the words to this song are so cheesy they are putrid, all about unity in song and I am fairly sure that the tune will be equally as cheesy and I am not disappointed. When we have finally finished, there is some confusion as Liz thinks she has to play it one more time by herself but Pippa and Claire have already started thanking us all for coming, telling us that they didn't want to overdo it so the next one will be in a month's time and could they please extract funds from us all in order to cover the cost of the room and the photocopying... After a brief chat with Pippa, it turns out that Loider and I are going the same way, and we have a nice little conversation about how disgraceful it is that no one seems to be able to use an apostrophe correctly these days. I offer to walk her right to her door but she says she will be fine, and I go into the house for a cup of tea and a nice sit down.
posted by OrientBird | 20:39
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