Promotion cometh yet from the Lord

I've been writing this for quite a while now.  The tag line at the top has been the guiding light for the the overall tone..."misadventure" probably belongs up there as well, probably.  Unlike some of my fellows that I know who blog too, I am less of a creative writer than a destructive one; the last few months of wallowing have proved that much.  But in between the misery, I have also been talking about change, and I guess that's what this is all about.  

As we know, "Songman" is an historic title that I have avoided letting go of even though I am no longer a member of Derby Cathedral Choir.  I like it.  It's short, simple to explain, and sounds old-fashioned.  I was proud to keep hold of it, having been a full-time member of a Cathedral back row before leaving school.  Enough with the laughing already; Derby may not be the world's greatest foundation but I earned my place there and having to do a whole year on your own as an Alto almost straight after your voice breaks is both a terrible idea and a real character builder. 

I'm so proud of this title that I even named my long-suffering blog after it - somewhere where I could offload the heavy troubles of the day by writing them away.  If we look back to where I was when I started writing this, that is to say an environment that did not suit me both domestically and professionally, then we can see why I would want to make such an escape for myself.  I was increasingly unhappy all angles round, God knows how I even found the will to go back into third year, but thankfully I did and here I am now.  And indeed, here I am to stay.  This is the good news that I've been sitting on for all this time.  See, I guess it isn't really a big deal for most people but it is to me...

I'm going to be a Lay-Vicar of Truro Cathedral Choir. 

If you've known me for some time (you know, like 5 years or more), you know that my big ambition in life is to once again be a full member of the back row of a Cathedral choir again, and here I am at 22, having regained that position.  Okay, I'm not getting appointed formally until September next year (I'll be 23 by then though), and I'll have to find somewhere to live and work, but at the moment, this is still better news than that time I found out that I graduated.  I'm particularly proud of this, because I haven't relied on any connections, pulled any favours, or needed any pieces of paper that say anything at all in order to get here; just good, old fashioned hard work. 

I wrote about how little I change myself in the summer; the statement still stands.  Rather than change to something unfamiliar, I have changed to reclaim something I already had.  This is my first post (Cathedral post) as an adult though - whether I stay here or move on out after a while is something that will take more than sitting up til 1am to fathom.  By no means am I sat at a "poor end of the stall" any longer though, and indeed far from it!  I always describe myself as 'the loud one at the end' when members of the congregation speak to me and say "Oh you're a choral scholar, aren't you, which one are you again?".  Thankfully, that description usually does, so I don't have to go as far as describing that abominable hood that I wear (Lord of Mercy UEA you have really dropped the ball with that dreadful coral colour)...

The next big things on the list are accomodation and employment.  Another known known (that is to say something that we know that we know) is that holding down a job is somewhat tricky.  This is another thing with no quick fix; that's it.  As for accomodation... Well, I really don't know.  Finding and affording life in Truro will be the biggest obstacle I will face, and God knows if I'm really ready to do that but the hell with it I haven't backed down yet (I almost did once and that was terrible), and now isn't the time to even start consideing such namby-pamby practices like that.  I know that my strength comes from inside me, but that I always need other people to remind me of it.  I've got a good crop of friends down here even outside of the Cathedral family circle, and I'm looking forward to the next part of my life very much.  This is the independance I have struggled for, the career I have lived for, in a place that I enjoy living, working and being a part of. 

So, what is this now then?  Lay-Vicar's Corner?  I think not.  I could only ever have got to this stage in life and accepted the future that I'm going to without having come from where I did.  I still refer to Derby as "us".  Maybe three services a week is small fry in comparison to now, but there was still a depth of repertoire and the nature of commitment that was a defining point of my youth.  Having to hold the alto line almost on my own was a defining point of my adolescence, and a pretty unique circumstance.  If I could have the time again, would I do things differently?  Would I have that 6 moths off to rest my voice?  Who knows?  Who cares!

Accepting the Lay-Vicarship is still a development I'm getting used to.  It's early in the choral year after all, and there's still seven months of this year with these scholars to go.  More likely than not, there will be five completely new scholars net year though, and I won't be a part of that group.  That is really an odd consideration after having been a choral scholar at various institutions for four years now.  I'm never going to be a choral scholar again.  Wow. 

Written out

Once again there's been a serious haitus.

If we look over the past few months, the summer archive of 2012 if you will, we can see a definite pattern forming: that of an overall depression, but trying to make the best of things.  I faced a lot of things in the summer, both great triumphs and fierce lows... and here I am in the middle of November (and really it all boils down to the middle of November, doesn't it?), having finally caught up with one of my best friends.  Three months is simply far too long, but as those on the great East Anglian coast know, time is the least of worries when compared to distance.

The problem is I am still pretty down; not for any reason in particular, but as any other depressive can tell you, you don't always need a reason.  I am particularly drained at the moment.  I'm not sleeping properly, and getting up and out is sometimes more a strain than it should be.  I remarked on this earlier, thinking that I had got through the bad part and was feeling better and now back to being generally low.  It gets in the way of a lot of things!  I haven't written anything here for ages, and even elementary social interaction is more difficult and tiring than it should be.  I'm worn out and I feel old,  Why?

I guess some questions are beyond the scope of some 20-something's mewling blog though.  I've let a lot slip though, and even thinking of that doesn't really help because of course I should be doing better than this.  Coming back to my chamber of an evening and feeling all played out even before the communal meal is a bit shit though.

I'm sure this mid-November slump will clear itself up; these things have a habit of working themselves out by themselves, just like I do.  I may well be single and unemployed again, but there's obviously something in there that I should be taking note of.  Employment is diffucult for autistic people, perhaps it's time I started taking note of my disability more seriously, as much as I hate doing so, even before you take into account fitting in with choir hours.  I know that if I keep looking and trying, something that is possible will turn up, and it's just a case of finding the right thing.

As for my love life, I consider myself formally in a position of semi-retirement.  Allow me to clarify: it just isn't my strong suit at the best of times so why bother with putting myself through more heartache.  Social interaction can be tough enough on a professional level (where I like to think I know what I'm doing), let alone in a more intimate setting.  Of course there are people out there, near and far that I am attracted to, but... I just have no idea what to do about it at the moment.  So I'm just not doing anything, which is for the best.

So there we are.  There's actually a lot of good things that have been happening that I've not said; I think at this point a little cathartic release is better while I wind up for a better tone.  Everything is in the process of changing, and perhaps that's something else that's driving this particular mood - after all, I hate change because I don't (haha)... 

And I'm still sat up at 1am!  Oy Vey!

Tenth Draft

It's been a tough old life recently.  Basically, this is the journal of a man who has immense diffuculty managing his shoelaces, let alone his depression, published onto the internet, where I invite you to read it.  Feast on my misery and solitude, and share in my passion and victory.  

After the desolation of last week I have been trying to find myself again, to reinstate what matters, my processes and practices.  One of my biggest problems when I get depressed is recognition, or in fact, the lack of it.  One of my go to phrases this fortnight, especially in a follow up to some obvious mistake or lask of answer is "I don't even know who I am, let alone anything else!", and comically exagerrated bewilderment aside, I actually haven't been hugely sure.  Looking in the mirror, I have met with an unfamiliar face, ravaged by massive weight loss, too much drink  and lack of regular sleep.  I don't even see any trace of the monster who used to look back at me, so I suppose that's a good thing at least... Members of my family have been greeted on the phone by one Travis Bell, and those of you who know who he is will appreciate my fugue to the ghost of a Japanese assassin who gives exactly no shits at all for the precious bullshit that gets thrown around.

I said that I was at loss, and I sure am still now.  Where and to who do I turn?  Really that's what it comes down to, loss.  The loss of someone precious and cherished.  The sudden loss of an accepted routine; not only one that I was simply used to but had become pleased with, which is of course a concession my life must make to my autism.

I am also very guilty of losing the recognition of my supporting players - the people who are there for me all the time even and especially when I don't remember.  To you all, thank you.  It's more than enough having the Big Man who would come down at a moments' notice, but friends old and new, family close and extended have reminded me that it isn't always going to be this hard, even though it feels like that right now. 

It was extremely refreshing this last week, however, to hear somebody else tell me how difficult things must be because of the effort I expend in managing my autism every day.  No, really!  Completely unprovoked and unprompted, and really very kindly meant.  It has been a struggle recently.  I haven't wanted to move for days on end, and the prospect of leaving my room to face everything literally everything else in the world so draining and, well, even frightening.  How shameful!  Not really.  There are plenty of other people out there who are just as frightened, just as anxious and just as depressed as I am, have been and probably will be again who give in.  Some days that door handle can be a powerful deterent just on it's own, regardless of what may be (or probably isn't) on the other side.

A few things have been coming back though.  And little things at that.  I've managed to put a little bit of weight back on, which means my waistline is back up to a healthy 29 inches, but my waistcoats are still a little loose, so I still have far to go.  I've upped my Bach on Banjo schedule too, adding the Sarabandes from the D minor, C major and C Minor suites to my programme of the G major suite.  The Sarabandes are the emotional centres of the suites; C major's triumphal majesty is balanced by D minor's lyricism in sorrow... but the C minor suite's essay in solitude and emptiness is a cold mirror for my self right now.  The delicate placing of the second beat almost matches my slowly worsening gait...

I'm cooking again though, and even treated myself to some new cookery books, courtesy of Nigel Slater and Jamie Oliver, the latter of whose latest opi, 15 Minute Meals, will be of some use in the Scholary where time is limited and appetites large.

What else can I say though?  There's still a lot trapped in my head that I just don't know how to express, should it even be expressed at all...but I have to get it all out somehow or the noise will just become too much and I shall go mad.  I often describe myself as mad; Insanity truly is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, and there's noone guiltier of that than me.

Postscriptum

This post in particular caused me some problem, maybe more so than last week's.  Here I am, in the early hours of the morning performing last minute changes and edits to make sure I have used as unequivocal language as possible.  This isn't about guilt, or blame, or fault.  I only ever blame myself for things anyway, which really is a pattern I must get out of, but I have other things weighting heavily on my mind right now.  This is about me feeling so cut up that I don't really know how to cope, and nothing more.  

I told my brother that trying to put myself back together to the confident, outgoing, witty and well dressed man I know I have been was like building an Empire on a Grain of Sand.  His immediate response?

"I'll fetch the scaffolding."

Untitled

So I've been writing this blog since April what, two years ago now?  Sure, sounds about right.  I take things that have happened, are in the process of happening, or are about to happen to me and turn them into a little story and throw in a load of song lyrics, pop culture references, puns... and then review and then publish.  I put links out and wonder who really reads this crap.

Today I am trying really very hard to condense the last two weeks into a workable, readable and indeed writable form, and unsurprisingly I'm finding that extremely difficult.  Let's start with the biggest fact here so we all know what we're dealing with: I got dumped.

Again.

I'm an absolute wreck.  I can't sleep, I don't want to eat, don't want to even move half the time.  I spent the weekend getting roaring drunk every day, and I've even lost a lot of voice.  The only thing I've lost more of is weight, which is just falling off me.  I'm going to be very ill, that's if I'm not already.

Obviously now I want to go on a massive emotional tirade, but... It just won't help.  It won't make me feel any better, you won't want to read it, it'll be divisive (and I've had enough division this week), so I won't bother.  What I will say though is I am just at loss.  I don't know what to do at the moment, and wearing one's heart on one's sleeve (or what's left of it now) as one does...

And look, I know I have the best friends a man could ask for who are all worried sick.  I've got dedications from across the pond, promises of unrelenting physical violence, offers of beds and beer from Norwich almost instantaneously as I let my friends back home know.  This is it, everyone goes through it time and again, and I have all sorts of people to fall back on.  But when that one person goes, that one you made your priority goes and you all know what I mean (and if you don't, just wait until you do), it's absolutely shattering, and that's all I feel at the moment.

It's tough.  I feel...blank in many ways.  I haven't worn my rings and chains for the past week now either.  There was a brief moment during the weekend where the sensation of not wearing any jewelry was stranger than wearing it...but ultimately I'm still not wearing any.  My personality has crashed a little bit (haha a lot) and I'm just not strong enough within myself to uphold it.  Can't eat, can't sleep, can't even wear my bloody suits because I'm so thin at the moment God it's an awful life really, isn't it?

I need to post this and go to bed, before I sit up all night trying to make a point that I'm not really sure about, or change my mind.  As we already know, I don't really change that much, so expect another one of these after the next time, where I give everything and it doesn't work out for whatever reason.  I think that's enough for now though.  I'll be back once I'm done hurting, but don't expect that for a long time because I hurt very badly now. 

Stop, Look & Listen

It's been a long Summer Vac.  And a lot has changed.  But there's still time for everything to change, after all.  Let's get to it.

I've been mostly living alone this summer.  No, not completely by myself, but rather alone.  My housemate, as is his wont, has often gone hither and yon and I have been the sole custodian of The Scholary in the meantime.  As for my girlfriend, well... She's been busy too, and has been here and there on holiday and trips and all sorts of things befitting those on summer holiday.  It's cool.

What I don't like though, is being alone, because being alone drives me absolutely insane, and I just go mad.  It's been a tough old time in many respects because of that.  When I go mad, my usual anxiety spikes and I have a little more trouble than usual controlling it.  Sometimes, it's not easy.  Oy...

I have often faced things about myself that I do not like this holiday as well: my insecurities, my anxieties, my deep-seated dislike of asking for help, my control issues... and so on and so forth!  Luckily for me, I have a good bunch of friends, a wonderful family, and, brave as I am to use such formal language, a significant other who is right behind me and does more than she thinks.

Things are looking up, just like always though.  The Scholary, horrific dosshole that it has been is now in a magnificent state, being cleaned, replumbed, decorated and partially refurnished in time for the new Choir year.  Right now I'm sat (although admittedly not in my seat...) on a reclining sofa; yes, things really are that good!  My chamber of course is furnished to my exact recquirements, what with my double bed, keyboard, and Banjo hanger screwed into the wall.  As always, I am black and white, indeed to such an extent that I now have a brand new Banjo (around £600 worth of instrument) hanging on my wall, this time with a resonator, brass tone ring and black Remo head.  It looks and sounds amazing, and I'm redoubling my efforts in order to be comfortable with the new sound, weight and neck profile in time for my Concert du Jour on the 16th, where I hijack the first Cello Suite by Bach.  That's right, 3 years in the making and after almost 8 weeks of at least two hours practice a night it's almost ready.  Opinion is already divided, but that's kind of the point.  I'm never out to do anything 'usual', and have no intention of stopping now.  Not being Banjo music, it is pretty tricky, but I'm getting there.  I'll be ready in time for the concert... (he says.)

Keen-eyed followers will also notice that I have been all but off-network for the past 5 days.  It's something I'm trying out.  I have more than enough on my plate with practicing and this job still before term starts anew without updating the internet as to my every move.  I'm doing okay, I've been back on today and will of course post this before being off again.  I just got so used to being on Facebook and twitter all the time, maybe it is time for a rest every so often.  Of course, if you want me, I'm still here, yeah?  I am still pretty forgetful about my letters, but that's another habit I have once again fallen out of.  Even as a correspondant I can get very serious, very quickly, and as I am learning, that's not always a good thing.  

The next few months will prove interesting, I suppose.  Financial decisions are not to be taken lightly, after all but there's still so much good work ahead of me.  I have a few personal milestones even before Christmas yet, and there's always room to improve.  All I have to do is keep paying attention.  I've gotta do something...right?

Part Timer

So, another working week draws to a close.  This one has been less tiring physically, but not easy emotionally, and I learn to find another way.

This week has been out of kilter; I missed out Monday but came up smiling on Tuesday, in time for my first day on front of house at the Cathedral Restaurant.  Monday's timetable was slightly different, being used primarily as recovery from putting a rather large amount of alcohol inside myself in a short space of time.  The City Inn, a fine establishment in Truro will, for a price, serve ale from the tap in two pint glass Steins.  In the equation of Pebblez plus Steins multiplied by Doom Bar, we know that the only answer is Inebriation.

On Tuesday, the Boy left.  Yes, Barrett my one time nemesis to full time sidekick finally left the building, to depart on his summer of European travel.  God bless and God speed.  We had an emotional and public goodbye in the Restaurant, as thankfully (for him at least) he arrived before the busy time kicks off.  I miss him a lot, actually.  For all the mess that was made, all the arguing about budgets, however much I wanted to wipe him off the face of the Earth when he told me what to do... I do miss him a hell of a lot.  He'll be back!  I mean, he promises to return for a week over Old Choristers' (whether he will stay for that long is another question), and the Good Old Days can return.  Right?

The rest of the Scholars have been peeling off in their own time.  Our Organ Scholar left on Wednesday morning, Mr. McCusker went last night...which only leaves Mr. Lock to go on Sunday.  After that, it's just me and the Beeves...until September.  Now, the living arrangements still as I type aren't completely secure.  At some point, a minor redecorative event is supposed to be happening in the Scholary, which we're supposed to be absent for.  I think it might be a case of seeing what happens when we get there, and not having any clue beforehand.  Best not say any more before I get myself into trouble either.

Currently though my part time working arrangement is going well.  If anything, I could do with more hours to get out of that overdraft quicker, but if I keep to my new budget regime I should be okay... just about.  My plan to install a double bed into my room will have to not touch my Bank account at all, or it'll never happen, as will neither my proposed holiday plan...which hasn;t been discussed properly yet anyway.  That's another big maybe that's a long way off, but if I prepare for it now I can make it seriously easier.  I'll probably have to keep a little brown paper bag under my matress or something for the bed fund (stay the hell away from my matress you hear.)  What I could really do with is an infallible get rich quick scheme, or a significant pay rise.  Alright already!  So could we all!

I've had to seriously rethink my money though.  I'm exceedingly close to the bottom of my overdraft, and need to make some real progress.  It's...difficult.  I looked at the cost of my phone bills for the last 6 months and almost had a heart attack over the appearance of a charge of some £91 a few months ago... Oy Vey!  I am going to actually have to be careful this time.  My latest bill is for a fair 52 quid anyway, so I'm only at twice my contract this month, right?  Ouch.  I need to be careful now, because unlike for the last however many years now there won;t be a Student loan to pick me up in September.  There is no termly cash drop to keep me from trouble.  I have to work now in order to afford to eat, basically!  If I even dared another night out between now and pay day I'll be doomed!  Now my back's up against the wall I am going to have to turn this one right around...which I should have been doing for ages now but I am after all, a fool.

This is the real character building excercise though, I can't run away now.  I've got people to make proud of me again, people who want to see me thrive and succeed, and I can't let them down!  I'll always have myself, let down or not...

...But in fact, that attitude is part of my problem.  Allow me to explain.

My Girlfriend has gone to Italy for a week with her Wind Band.  Well, I say a week.  It's more like 4 days there and the rest travelling.  I am missing her so much right now, it's awful.  It's made worse by the fact that so many people are leaving Truro at the moment anyway, I could do with her being a little closer at least, but I can't win all the time.  I know she's coming back, and the birthday surprises I have in store have been well-planned.  

Whenever I've taken trips away from girlfriends (or vice versa) I've always gone slightly mad, and got a bit needy.  The problem is not that I don't believe that they won't want me still, just that I tell myself that they will see something better than me if I am away, and I'll lose out.  Again.  I tell myself that I'm just not good enough.  I worry and I waste away and I pine and whimper and it's just not very good at all, really.  I've done it for years as well, I hardly know any better.

I am turning this around.  It's very hard.  

I know, heart and soul and strength that there's nobody out there who feels the way I do about her.  Imperfect and crippled I may be, but I'm a Bright, and I always do my best and I never give up.  That's what I am.  Who I am, on the other hand, I am remembering very slowly, and it's down to her that I am, with the right amount of tender support and affectionate chastisement that I need to know I'm doing well.  I haven't given up before, I don't intend to start doing so now.  I know that one day, we'll be very far apart, maybe through accident of employment or education, but it won't matter.  It'll still be us two, together.  I know this.  I almost believe it.  Trust me, I'm trying and God does love a tryer.

Onwards though!  I have a new budget plan, and a job that pays.  Living through this summer won't be cushy, but it'll be a life that I'll have earned the funds for by myself, and that's something to be proud of.  I've done a budget forecast for the next quarter (!), and if I stick to it I'll have made a net gain of some £1200.  I'll be...comfortable! 

Tales of new Employment

So it's all change again.  I'm not coming back to Derby, and I'm not unemployed!  BOOM.

For the last week, I have been working as the Kitchen Porter at the Cathedral Restaurant.  I seriously and wholeheartedly believe that this is not a job designed for one person; more that it is a sore test for those who do not know what hard work is.  Over this week I have earned some two hundred pounds, and have work lined up for the whole of the summer.  Over the course of the Vac, I'll need to vacate my house for some ten days only but that's about it.

Here are some things that I have learned this week:

! - The Dishwasher truly is my mortal enemy.
" -  The Squares of Ashoni was the best training for plate stacking.
£ - Full trays from tables dumped on the deck are the bane of everything.
$ - The smell of Carrot and Coriander soup makes me want to brech.
% - If you don't ask for a break you'll never get one, regardless of the legality.
^ - Once the cutlery goes through the machine is is literally HOTTER THAN THE SUN.
& - Having a mostly Guinness and Jager based hangover will not help.
? - The sight of the pass closing can cheer the lowest of hearts.

Monday was insane.  Like, actually mental.  I've been burnt less in baptisms of fire already!  (Actually I never truly got burnt, but did scald myself with the ROASTING HOT CUTLERY).  Interestingly enough, as allergic as I am to hard work... I haven't been put off totally.  I always used to (and continue) to say that once I'm done with all this music rubbish, I'll train as a chef.  Where does every one start?  At the Porter's station.  

It's not great, by any stretch of the imagination, but not awful.  There is still a sense of achievement even when all the tables get cleared at once and all the plates ever appear in your immediate vicinity.  I only dropped one plate all week, but sadly also knocked the handle off a teapot.  Sad times.  

Tuesday was just as bad, but I arguably got a bit more help.  On Wednesday I decided that the only way to keep the pot wash room sane was to put away dry stuff myself, which once again considerably sped the process up.  Thursday was slightly marred by the addition of midnight prosecco to celebrate Mr. Barrett's 19th birthday, but still remarkably busy.  The soup was very popular.  Not so much Carrot and Coriander but Carrot and Crack Cocaine.

Friday was definitely the quietest.  I even managed to get a whole 15 minutes off where I conversed with my disasterously hungover housemate and bought lunch from the Co-op, rob dogs that they are.  Anyway, even with a whole quarter of an hour off, I managed to get almost everything finished in time for 4pm!  How exciting!

However.  Working 9:30 til 4 every day has left me drained and somewhat irritable, and in bad shape for evensong.  Granted this won't be a problem from next week onwards, what with this Sunday being the last services of the year, but seeing as these were some pretty hardcore services (Monday Howell's St. Paul's, Tuesday Langlais Messe Solennelle, Wednesday Leighton 2nd Service and Friday Tallis Lamentations), I can;t help but feel like I let the side down a bit by just being so tired.  Granted, I wasn't falling asleep at the end of the Nunc Dimittis like I was when I worked at Truro School, but there we go...

The long Vac stretches out before me.  I have a month of employment ahead of me before I even consider August.  But there will be rest for the wicked at some point, and it's my girlfriend's birthday at the end of this month, which I have been preparing for at least a month now.  I had to make sure everything would work out if I wasn't staying in Cornwall, see, but now I am I have some extra wiggle room, as it were.   All I'm really going to say about her now is that things are so much different than ever, and I don't ever need to panic any more.  Oh.  And she's marvellous.  And short.*  But that's enough for now.  

Now, presumably I'm going to do some laundry or wash up in the kitchen now, I suppose.










*This fact included at her request.

Intermission

Having recently read the work of two friends whom I had the great pleasure to meet last year in Halls, I am somewhat concious of once again, slacking off as far as this blog is concerned!  Once more, I am typing off the top of my head at 1am, but this time I'm sober, and this time it won't be about Organs.  Well.  Not entirely.


Therefore, starting with Organs, I have taken up lessons again!  Be in no shadow of a doubt that I am expressly pleased with this, even if my lessons no longer take place on a III/P Neoclassical essay with a balanced tracker...sigh... But they do in fact take place on a very fine instrument, built at the beginning of the Twentieth century, mechanical stop, key and coupling action, with some fine stops inside as well.  The trumpet, while without the French grandeur in the bass does not lose power in the treble, with the swell strings being nothing but sheer delight.  I have gone back to where I left off material wise, with Langlais' Priere and Prelude Modale, Vierne's Bercuese, and selections from Couperin's Messe pour les couvents.  Today on a short crawl with my teacher however, I sightread the Andante Tranquillo from Mendelssohn's A major Organ Sonata, and not terribly badly either.  I pedalled!  Huzzah!  My next lesson is on Thursday morning, and it's bloody brilliant to be back.

But my teacher?  Well, he follows on from last year's tradtion, of being a highly skilled and musical man, an excellent improviser, in his mid-twenties... but he's getting married?  Certianly not something Saint J of N would be considering?  Perhaps not...
But I will be attending this wedding at the beginning of June, sat way up at the front of the nave of Truro Cathedral, not only watching the ceremony unfold in front of me (rather than being at the stall!), but also, it transpires, participating!  I haven't read in Church since...well, Mancroft, and certainly not at anything as felicitous as a wedding!  I have  new paisley tie at the ready, and it's just shy of three weeks away.  

The squalid Scholary still stands though, despite all we who live therein.  The kitchen needs breaking again, with a rather unsavoury backlog of plates and pans... not withstanding the hob.  As I am still unemployed, I pick the slack up in the day (or plan to, anyway), so at least the plates and cutlery are clean and ready to go.  As ever, the cutlery box is here, but has been plundered entirely of forks!  I plan to reclaim all mine, and see how that leaves us off for cutlery and flatware.  It's a mystery what happens to forks at the best of times.


There are many half finished drafts on my books here.  Some barely started and abandoned as bad concept, and a few complete essays that cannot be published for various reasons.  There are some that have been written in the first flush of anger for instance, that the cooling influence of a computer that sometimes crashes halfway through have saved from public viewing.  I really ought to do something more interesting with my life than wash up, practice, and generally slulk about on the internet.  I haven't even played any ridiculous videogames for a while now!  Life has slowed down somewhat from the whirlpool that almost dragged me under last term...and I am thankful for that.  It's certainly no quieter.  Different.

Anyway.  There'll be some more beardy organ bearding published soon.  Next week I'll be recording a CD of the music of Philip Stopford with Choir, the weekend after that will be the wedding...and after THAT (with a few days rest), I'll be back in Norwich, A FINE CITY.  Upon my return we perform an Orchestral Eucharist in the Cathedral, and then it's into the last part of Trinity, and the end of the year.  A tearful valediction looms at the beginning of July...

Anyway.  Time for bed.  I have a kitchen to clear and preludes to practice and chess games to win.  See you on the other side.

Reconstruction of a Madman

You know, so much has been going on recently that I managed to forget that I've kept this blog active, albiet with several breaks, for two years now!  Happy birthday.  Or whatever.

Things have been really tough recently though, which is why there hasn't been much publicised activity.  I lost my job, my relationship broke down... actually that's kind of it. but in all seriousness when those two things happen within weeks of themselves, you can't help but get battered down.  

Like before, I'm not here to talk about the hows and wherefores of what happened with my relationship.  It isn't right to air it over the net like this, I won't be bothering.  Thing is that things changed, and that's how things have to be.  I'm still in an emotionally unstable state, I'm not going to lie, but I'm doing all that I can to remain balanced, especially in public.  In all honesty though, I loved her with my whole heart, and did everything I could.  I'm so pleased and proud of what we had, so many good things came of it.  While I might be desperately upset, I'll never forget that, ever.  I know that past the pain lies time for cherishing, and so many memories.  

Okay, enough already.



And what about this job then?  I've been in all but full time employment as the Music Administrator (read as Departmental Undersecretary) at Truro School, a private day and boarding school some 800 pupils strong.  It's been far from easy.  Upon starting, I fell to a particularly nasty depressive episode, because unsurprisingly, the incredible gear change from being unemployed for basically your entire life to a full time (8:30am til 4pm, 5 days a week) job is a killer.  There's no middle ground, and BAM you're on all day every day.  Having to learn how to fit in with the system, meeting new and unfamiliar people every single day.  At least I get to wear a suit just like the good old days, right?  Right.  My core tasks involved sitting behind a desk all day, making photocopies, answering the telephone and generally doing as the Head of Department told me to...except on the odd occasion that I said "No".  Let's recount my favourite episode...


Head of Department - "I want you to get all the kids' choir folders, and make sure that every single one of them has each piece of music."


Me - 'No.'


HoD - "What?"


Me - 'Half of them don't turn up anyway, why not leave it to the kids to be responsible for their own music, because then all the people who actually attend will have the right music, and then those who don't come won't have a folder, so there won't be any wasted copies.'




That little exchange went down like a lead balloon.  Anyway.  I started working there in January, on the 5th, literally the day after I got back to Cornwall.  I basically treated myself like I was invincible, not immortal (as of course I am), and fell foul of it.  The strain was immense.  Things leveled out though, and I carried on.  I was an agent of varying success; while things would have gone much worse without me (as a quick fix stand in), everything that could go wrong on my watch did.  Basically!  I was asked by the HoD to seriously consider my job, and if I wanted to continue in employment there over the half term.  I did, and thought (at the time) that I would merrily wish to continue into the summer term, or Trinity as I still know it. Things were moved in powers above my head, however, that confirmed my empolyment would end once my temporary contract had come to a close, on the 30th of March.  The decision had been made by the 9th, and official correspondance signed, which was not posted until the 14th, let alone received until the 16th of the very same month.  An annoyance, but nothing more; the contract stated that I could be given a week's notice, so a fortnight was no problem really...Okay, I was less than pleased to have discovered it especially after the long schlep down the hill from School to the Scholary, but that's how it goes.


Another milestone from my time at Truro School was my playing of the Chapel Organ in a concert, called Organ and the Word.  I opened with the could-have-been-smoother Croft D major Voluntary, and absolutely oafed it out the park with selections from the Couperin Messe pour les Couvents, witch went down like a storm.  YES THE INEGALITE!  The Chapel organ is the ex-Jesus College Cambridge Instrument, originally built by Mander, and therefore christened in the same way as my excellent friend Mr. Harry Macey would, as the Mandermonium (a name that went down like a storm again...har har), and was built in 1971, an early Neo-Classical instrument.  

Now, I would obviously have much preferred an instrument from 1791...but my experience with the Neo-Classical aesthetic drew me, yea like a moth to a flame.  While it may be scaled down immensely from the mighty Collins (which I do miss very much), having a chorus up to a IV Fourniture on the Great was pleasing once again.  There was even a tierce for my characteristic Dutch warmth... Although I never took the Pachelbel G minor Fantasia to play sadly!  The Collins registrations inside my Pachelbel book reveal an eclectic reed building, with a HW of Trompette 8', Oktave 4', Quint 2 2/3', Superoktave 2' and Tierce 1 3/5', with a RP of Dulzian 16', Gedact 8' and Principal 4' coupled up.  Gritty, reedy, earthy and downright nasty, especially in that E flat minor moment, flavoured by the Valotti temperament.  Delicious!  


However.  Now is a time for looking forward.  This may prove more difficult in some circumstances than others, but there's time.  Time is what we all need every now and again.  I need some time to reassess.  I need a job, yes, but a 9-5 desk job is somewhat outside of my power.  I felt stretched to my absolute limits.  The number of days where I didn't want to get out of bed aren't worth talking about, so I shan't bother.  I do need money coming in, to fuel the lifestyle I have become acquianted with, to fund travel hither and yon, and to keep getting past this overdraft.  Originally, the first letter of the title of this post was a 'D', but I figured that it was better to look forward instead.  While I might be cut up right now, I know deep down that I am in a position of many opportunities: emotionally, professionally and financially.


I will never give up, and that maxim reflects on everything - I will certainly never stop trying to improve myself in every way shape and form available.


Watch this space, because with the increased amount of free time I have now I shall certainly be finding time and place to write some more.  I have several drafts to finish (or actually start afresh...), and Lord knows I've got a lot to say.  I'm just so outspoken.

One foot on the Gas, one foot in the Grave

So I definitely haven't written for a long time... whoops!

Actually I have been very very busy, all of which I will discuss herein.  I haven't even tried to write, so unlike 6 months ago my entry list isn't littered with half-hearted aborted attempts.  I have simply been too busy!  There are three main articles of business, of interest, of discussion that I will illuminate in the next several hundred words, and they are thus: my new job, my place at the stall, and my wonderful girl.  There's more along the way too...

Basically, I have a full time job now.  I say basically, because I'm technically an hour and a quarter short of FT, but there we go.  As you will see, it doesn't make that much difference in fact, as I'm still killing myself at the end of the day in time for choir.  I am now, and have been since the 5th of January, employed by Truro School, a large private school, as the Administrator of the Music Department.  What this basically means is that I deal with all the queries, all the parents ringing up, all the kids with their questions, sorting out letters, co-ordinating choir and orchestra registers... You guys know the score.  I'm the person who helps make things happen behind the scenes.  The local stable of peripatetic teachers who work with us are a good bunch, most of whom seem to like me a lot (which is always a help!), and if anything the biggest problem I have is the School database, which handles like a sick cow at the best of times.  Trying to mailmerge a set of letters has sent me greyer than... well, greyer than three years in Norwich that's for sure!

It's a good job though, and importantly I am actually enjoying it really through all the griping and early starts and an almost crippling walk up a massive hill to work and back down every day...it's good.  Importantly, the pay is very nice as well, which, with my remuneration from the Cathedral amounts to getting on for nine hundred pounds a month.  My current contract finishes on the 30th of March, and the head of department has asked me to seriously consider whether I want to stay on next term.  The money is very good, and will get me out of that pesky overdraft sooner rather than later...but the issue I have is that of timing.  I get up at 7, or a little later, and usually check in at my office desk after half eight and stay in school til four in the afternoon, at which point I have to charge down to the Cathedral for the rehearsal for evensong.

Now the whole reason I'm down here in the far-off south west is my Scholarship, the business of singing the services, and basically being a worthwhile part of Truro Cathedral Choir.  At the end of the day, I;m absolutely wiped.  What do I get to do?  Go to rehearsal.  I'm basically pulling in a 50 hour week, all told, with very little time off inbetween things, which having gone from last term doing hardly anything has proven tricky, if problematic.   I'm getting used to it, which is fine now, but obviously really knocked me over when I first started, and things still aren't perfect, which to be perfectly honest I feel ashamed about!  There's a point in the service, usually at the end of the Nunc Gloria and the start of the responses that I dip, and basically that's not good enough!  

OH WELL PEB GET USED TO IT AND KEEP YER CHIN UP EH BOY

As far as the stall is concerned, short of unforseen disaster, I'm staying for a second year!  At the Master's invitation!  How thrilling, and if anything else, sheer confirmation that I'm doing the right things in the right place at the right time.  No more Mancroft-style depression and disheartening.  Countertenoring may still not be the most fashionable thing to do in the world, but I might as well play to my strengths as far as singing's concerned.  While I do still every now anad again miss my treble days, at no point do I ever wish that I was anything else.  I usually describe myself as "the loud one on the end" whenever anyone asks me about my part to play.  I do enjoy flying off the handle every now and again as the situation calls for it (midnight mass descants, for example), but only as and when and Chris knows whats going on.  The next big item on the plate is Sunday morning's anthem, some modern horror.  Did I say that?  Yes, I did.  I hate it for the one reason that it's almost as if I'm blind.  I have no fixed idea of the tonality or form, and it drives me mental.  Having to pull augmented fouths out of the bag is simply monstrous, I don't like it.  Rant over really, as it'll happen, and I'll be spending all my free time tomorrow learning it...and then battle can commence on Sunday morning.  Keep your fingers crossed for me, eh?  

And what about this girl then?  She's just everything.  I know I know, you all probably think I'm just some hopeless romantic...which is absolutely true.  There are times when I stop myself to make sure I am certain about what I say, and I can honestly say there's no one I've felt so sure about.  There's nobody I've ever felt so comfortable with.  Of course it's early days and all, but it certainly feels...natural and relaxed and all sorts of good things!  This past weekend we went for a little break, just the two of us to a hotel on the coast which was absolutely splendid in every way possible, I absolutely treated her (being the weekend inbetween her birthday and valentines), and in fact on Valentines day itself, I trained up to pick her up from University, and generally treat her lots again!  I know this all looks a bit one sided, but it is me writing, and the way she treats me is absolutley brilliant, make no mistake.  I am planning the next holiday, a little further afield of course, and also trips upcountry to Norwich and Derby. 

I suppose one price that I have paid for all this success is the ultimate price of having moved away, and I am basically the worst person at keeping in touch once I've moved out.  I'm sure my friends from Norwich must feel left behind, basically, as I haven't written in an age, and certainly haven't made the trip up there.  It was always my intention to go up in the February half term, which has now been and gone.  Obviously my get-out clause is that I promised to be back this year...not this term.  I'm still coming back, I will keep my promise.  Actually, it now gives me a little in the way of wiggle room as far as saving is concerned; I have a lot of plans outside a return tour to N-Town, I want to be able to afford and manage to do them all.  Some things I need, and some things I want...and some things I think I need but only want!  Such is the material urge.  I'm still on Skype, and Lord knows enough people stalk my Twitter feed these days.  I can be found quite easily these days, which is possibly the biggest change from my youth, once prefering to remain quite hidden when I was younger.  

Hiatus

So I never quite finished this on Saturday night after all.  Welcome to Sunday night paragraphing and posting, but don't worry; the most I've done is tighten up a few corners and add some more.  As ever, I have two feet, and their location is perfectly described by the title of this post.  Some things will always be the same though.  Always.