Another title, another exclamation mark. I remember when the golden rules of essay writing were handed down to me by my old Senior Master at School, with explicit instruction to use only one exclamation mark per essay. Just one, and no more. It's sound advice, and I try not to use too many even on here (because let's face it, most of my blog posts are like short essays in length anyway).
When I was at University, I joined a society called 'Student Switch Off'. Mainly for the free t-shirt, tote bag and promises of Ben & Jerry's Ice cream, but still, I joined. The point of this society was to persuade more students to think about energy usage, usually through the medium of competitions, both personal and in halls of residence. I think there was a weekly challenge of taking a picture of yourself doing something to save energy (switching unused plug sockets off, putting lids on pans, wearing extra layers in the cold &c), and a termly challenge of which residential block of halls used the least water and electric, with the residents winning cinema tickets, Ice cream, and other student-friendly goodies. For whatever reason, my hall (Britten House) never won the termly challenge, so no free Ice cream or cinema tickets for me. Boo. The weekly goals were always well-represented by the usual fancy-dress (and cross-dress) lovers, complete with wacky poses/visible underwear (although the latter due to the typical relaxed student 'dress code' rather than any deliberate titillation). I'm still pretty reticent to pose for photos at the best of times, and I just ended up doing the things for the challenge anyway and not being photographed. Just... No Pictures. Please. Taking pictures of me will only crack your camera lenses.
I also saw a girl over first and second year who is a card carrying member of the National Green Party. I don't know if that counts. Does it? Answers to the usual address. She even came to Derby (a rare honour), and joined me on an insane bike ride from my house to the home of The Drum in Belper, through Duffield and up real hills (you know, as opposed to the not-hills geography so characteristic of East Anglia).
I moved out of halls eventually (whether that was such a good idea well you decide for yourself), into a house and home in the Golden Triangle. In the interests of nostalgia, I will walk past the foot of Bury street and look wistfully up, before continuing to the nearest Public house in whichever direction I am walking (there is lots of choice, thankfully). Of course, renting this accommodation privately rather than through the University brought its own set of challenges, not just limited to actually attending the timetabled lectures. Paying your own rent and bills out of just a student loan can be a damn sight more than difficult than you think. I've always paid my own phone bill, which may not seem like a thing really but when compared with how limited my income was (and indeed, still is), makes a lot of difference. The Scholarship money paid to my by the Church of the Parish of St. Peter Mancroft in Norwich certainly saved my skin that year, no matter how unhappy I may have been. The small matter of the winter heating bill really taught me a lesson in looking after your outgoings though. Things like forgetting to switch the oven off or leaving the lights on all night may seem... forgettable and possibly amusing, I dunno, but it all adds up. Living in the Scholary now, where the utilities are taken care of, it's not even a problem, which explains why the heating gets left on a lot. Well, one of the reasons anyway. I'm sure that if we had to foot our own bills things would be a lot different. As much as I hate living in the cold, I really can't stand it when the house gets hot either. Hot as hell, Master. I somehow seem to have... a more consistent body temperature, it seems. Even though I'm still as skinny as hell, I don't get cold so much.
Paying my share of the bills really changed the way that I think about living in a house. Rather than just whacking the heating up, closing windows and doors at night to conserve heat, switching lights and plug sockets off when they're not needed. Elementary things, that might just help save me money when I live on my own. It is difficult to apply this so strictly to The Scholary, because I share it with anything up to four other people at the same time. Keeping the heating on over night tends to make me feel ill rather than keep me warm though. I can't govern how the others behave, and how they manage their own energy usage in the house, which isn't necessarily a bad thing - I'm definitely not saying that if I were in... control that there would be any benefit. The only thing that's really universally agreed on as bad is leaving the oven on, which on balance is a pretty good precedent.
As far as recycling's concerned, I'm pretty well behaved, I guess. The Cathedral has 3 different bins that we and the Restaurant use regularly - the waste bin, a cardboard and paper bin, and crates for glass recycling. The main strength, I suppose, of these facilities is their ease of access: it's only over the road. It isn't really that much fuss to separate the different types of rubbish if and when I or the other Scholars clear the kitchen out from the piles of detritus that often collect after a little while. There used to be recycling bins in the carpark at the end of the street, but the Council since took them away, quite unhelpfully. The ease of recycling the outgoings of the Scholary are facilitated by the facilities being so easily accessible. Were they not, everything would probably just go in the bin for landfill.
As we can see, my drive to go green and be responsible for rubbish and energy use is hardly a moral mission by any respect, just a way to save money mainly! Not being wasteful has twin benefits though, environmental and financial, and it's no great shame that there are positive ethical connotations as well. It's no problem to me to live my life this way though! Perhaps that isn't a hugely inspirational statement, but when you become responsible for your own bills, things change. I may not be paying for mine right now, but still think in pretty much the same way, so hopefully if/when (delete as applicable) I move out, I won't quite be all out at sea.
That's all. For now.
Tuesday, 14 May 2013
Collecting
Let's start with a confession: I'm a bit of a hoarder. I like...things. I like to think I'm not materialistic (a shopping trip will often end with me either returning empty handed, or having spent out on food), but I do like things.
When I was very very little, maybe only 3 or 4, I used to collect frogs. I think my collection is still at mother's house. It wasn't exactly a huge collection by any stretch of the imagination, but it was mine. Not living ones! Woah no. Plastic, porcelain, metal or clay frogs, the centrepieces being two frogs from the pottery in Denby; one decorated by yours truly, and the other an official piece of Denby merchandise, glazed and all. When I was a little bit older, I started to collect dragons instead, a collection that lasted for years before I stopped adding to it. Thinking back I'm not sure if there's just one reason why I stopped... The one that comes to mind first is having to pack them all up to move house. There isn't much in this world that I hate more than having to pack everything up and move house, even though I've done it four times since I was 18, and will probably do so again by the time we reach the summer. Hate hate hate h a t e it.
I don't have particularly large collections, more that I have several small ones that run at the same time. At one point I even thought about actually putting effort into collecting wooden animals, but since I found Wilbur (my taciturn chum), I have no need. I can't improve upon perfection, after all, can I? I suppose my largest and longest lasting collection is almost anything to do with Transformers. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah.
The overwhelming majority of my collection are 'Generation 1' toys, that were initially released in the 1980s. I inherited a small number (mostly mini Autobots but also a Ratchet!) from my brother (along with his collection of star wars toys that had survived his childhood), and supplemented these by usually making a number of great finds in charity shops. Yes! A surprising number of Transformers used to turn up regularly in charity shops and car boot sales, both of which I sought out regularly when I was younger and had pocket money to spare (disposable income?! A far cry from these distracted times). I even managed to pick up an original Metroplex for 50p from a school bric-a-brac sale and, on the other end of the price spectrum, found a G1 Jetfire (although minus the tail fins and cowling armour) for £20 at a boot sale. G1 toys are getting thin on the ground though, as people may be less likely to let go of them especially now we are in the grip of Michael Bay's Film dynasty. One great purchase was made with a former coursemate at University, who was selling two boxes - one of Transformers, and one of Star Wars toys. My brother cut a deal with gentleman, and we ended up with a box each. I also bought an almost-complete Ultra Magnus from eBay, which was supposed to come with a Galvatron as well, but didn't (as the seller had lost it, or some bullshitty excuse?), so got sent the king of all baddasses, Grimlock, a few days later. There's a Grimlock toy in the Natural History Museum as well, fact fans! I once found a beat up Optimus Prime (with no arms, sadly - the plastic had long before been snapped off from the die-cast chest...) in Oxfam when I worked there, and gifted it to my brother, many years ago now.
Funnily enough, then next largest generation represented in my collection is the first part of the so-called Unicron Trilogy, Transformers Armarda toys (I'll get onto Beast Wars in a minute). These brightly coloured and tactile toys were available in the early part of the 2000s, funnily enough coinciding perfectly with e broadcast of the cartoon series. Whatever. This particular toy line has been named the 'Pokeformers' line, with the arrival of 'Minicons' as a concept. These tiny transformers could be linked up with the larger toys (known in the continuity as 'bulks'), which unlocked a new feature - flip out weaponry, moving gears &c &c. They also came in packs, usually of three, some of which could combine to create either a gestalt robot themselves or a huge weapon (which was a major macguffin in the accompanying fiction). Whatever, I don't really care too much, the point it they are Transformers and I like them because of that. All the Minicons I own live in a metal lunch box, and all but two out of... say 8 or 9(?) of the larger toys I bought brand new from the Traveling Man shop that lived on top of the local Gamestation. I bought the race team minicons when on the infamous 24hr round trip to Ypres and back with school as well AREN'T I THE COOLEST GUY EVER.
Three of the biggest toys are from the previous generation: Robots in Disguise. This was the "missing" generation in between Beast Machines (more on that later) and Armarda. I bought two toys (Sideburn and Megatron) from Traveling Man (what a great place that was), and also received the Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus as Christmas presents one year after the other. These are also great toys - detailed alt-modes and pretty decent robot modes, but cursed/blessed with super-fiddly transformations. I'm often not too bothered about the surrounding fictional universe too much, but love the toys. They're like little puzzles, and I like that a lot. Outside of the RiD cars, I also have a Sky-Byte, who is pretty rad when you think about it (especially seeing as his characterisation is that of a sensitive poet LOL what a great baddy.)
Other than that, there's some ephemera too. I can only recall one Beast Wars toy (yes it's time), and that's Terrosaur. Now, I'm actually not that keen on Beast Wars toys, and was a bit too young to enjoy the cartoon series (what was it, like 1996? I was such a TRUKK NOT MUNKY guy when I was a kid). I didn't really like the fact that they turned into animals, and that on a lot of them, the animal mode was worn on the back of the robot (left over parts of the alt-mode like this are called kibble), and they just weren't the same Autobots and Decepticons that were in The Transformers The Movie... These Maximals and Predacons? Whatever. I got into watching the cartoon series in first year at University, and I now think it's bloody brilliant! There are a lot of smart in-jokes for the Fandom (whatever you do, do not annoy a fandom mmmmkay?) to enjoy, and the writing on the episodes is really top notch! The computer graphics are really dated nowadays, but I think that's part of the charm in some of the visual gags as well. 10/10 I recommend this series (if you like Transformers). What happened next, Beast Machines, is something that most people don't like to talk about. I'm a little uneasy about it as well, with bizarre toy design and a story line that is still difficult to get my head round.
That's basically as far as my collection goes. I've got about 98 issues of the Marvel comics series from the 80s (another inherited gift from my brother) in a draw, as well as some ancient choose-your-own adventure style books too. I don't really collect anymore because... I just don't really have the money! It's sad, isn't it? I have, of course, been to see all three of the new movies directed by MICHAEL BAY, and will definitely be going to see the fourth when that's released, but funnily enough don't own any of the toys. Once again, the designs are the main draw here, and while I think they look pretty good on screen (they're instantly recognisable after all), I'm not sure about how they work as toys, possibly the first time that the design importance has been that particular way round. The first film came out when I was in a pretty involved and long-term relationship (2007), and the subsequent sequels (2009 and 2011) came out while I was at university, and the only transformers I bought at uni were half of the build team from RiD (eBay purchases, but I only got half the team), and a beat up pretender shell for G1 Dreadwing. I dunno... Oh! And the War for Cybertron toy for Optimus Prime. I have a talent for working out how to transform an transformer without having to look at the transformation instructions. I love sitting and working it out, and it's pretty satisfying being able to convert them back and forth with a few swift clicks.
It is a little sad that I've stopped collecting for now, but at the moment I don't have the space to display them or the money to buy, being an impoverished choral scholar. Even at Mum's house they almost all live in a crate... Although my room at her house is in a perpetual state of being half packed for when I move house AGAIN. I keep up with a Transformers news site at least once or twice a week so I can stay abreast of new toys, new comic books, and of course news and rumours about the upcoming Transformers 4. I guess this has been my longest running collection (I've been buying transformers even before I started getting antique music scores) really! One day, when I have the time and money, I'll revive it. Just you watch.
That's all. For now.
When I was very very little, maybe only 3 or 4, I used to collect frogs. I think my collection is still at mother's house. It wasn't exactly a huge collection by any stretch of the imagination, but it was mine. Not living ones! Woah no. Plastic, porcelain, metal or clay frogs, the centrepieces being two frogs from the pottery in Denby; one decorated by yours truly, and the other an official piece of Denby merchandise, glazed and all. When I was a little bit older, I started to collect dragons instead, a collection that lasted for years before I stopped adding to it. Thinking back I'm not sure if there's just one reason why I stopped... The one that comes to mind first is having to pack them all up to move house. There isn't much in this world that I hate more than having to pack everything up and move house, even though I've done it four times since I was 18, and will probably do so again by the time we reach the summer. Hate hate hate h a t e it.
I don't have particularly large collections, more that I have several small ones that run at the same time. At one point I even thought about actually putting effort into collecting wooden animals, but since I found Wilbur (my taciturn chum), I have no need. I can't improve upon perfection, after all, can I? I suppose my largest and longest lasting collection is almost anything to do with Transformers. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah.
The overwhelming majority of my collection are 'Generation 1' toys, that were initially released in the 1980s. I inherited a small number (mostly mini Autobots but also a Ratchet!) from my brother (along with his collection of star wars toys that had survived his childhood), and supplemented these by usually making a number of great finds in charity shops. Yes! A surprising number of Transformers used to turn up regularly in charity shops and car boot sales, both of which I sought out regularly when I was younger and had pocket money to spare (disposable income?! A far cry from these distracted times). I even managed to pick up an original Metroplex for 50p from a school bric-a-brac sale and, on the other end of the price spectrum, found a G1 Jetfire (although minus the tail fins and cowling armour) for £20 at a boot sale. G1 toys are getting thin on the ground though, as people may be less likely to let go of them especially now we are in the grip of Michael Bay's Film dynasty. One great purchase was made with a former coursemate at University, who was selling two boxes - one of Transformers, and one of Star Wars toys. My brother cut a deal with gentleman, and we ended up with a box each. I also bought an almost-complete Ultra Magnus from eBay, which was supposed to come with a Galvatron as well, but didn't (as the seller had lost it, or some bullshitty excuse?), so got sent the king of all baddasses, Grimlock, a few days later. There's a Grimlock toy in the Natural History Museum as well, fact fans! I once found a beat up Optimus Prime (with no arms, sadly - the plastic had long before been snapped off from the die-cast chest...) in Oxfam when I worked there, and gifted it to my brother, many years ago now.
Funnily enough, then next largest generation represented in my collection is the first part of the so-called Unicron Trilogy, Transformers Armarda toys (I'll get onto Beast Wars in a minute). These brightly coloured and tactile toys were available in the early part of the 2000s, funnily enough coinciding perfectly with e broadcast of the cartoon series. Whatever. This particular toy line has been named the 'Pokeformers' line, with the arrival of 'Minicons' as a concept. These tiny transformers could be linked up with the larger toys (known in the continuity as 'bulks'), which unlocked a new feature - flip out weaponry, moving gears &c &c. They also came in packs, usually of three, some of which could combine to create either a gestalt robot themselves or a huge weapon (which was a major macguffin in the accompanying fiction). Whatever, I don't really care too much, the point it they are Transformers and I like them because of that. All the Minicons I own live in a metal lunch box, and all but two out of... say 8 or 9(?) of the larger toys I bought brand new from the Traveling Man shop that lived on top of the local Gamestation. I bought the race team minicons when on the infamous 24hr round trip to Ypres and back with school as well AREN'T I THE COOLEST GUY EVER.
Three of the biggest toys are from the previous generation: Robots in Disguise. This was the "missing" generation in between Beast Machines (more on that later) and Armarda. I bought two toys (Sideburn and Megatron) from Traveling Man (what a great place that was), and also received the Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus as Christmas presents one year after the other. These are also great toys - detailed alt-modes and pretty decent robot modes, but cursed/blessed with super-fiddly transformations. I'm often not too bothered about the surrounding fictional universe too much, but love the toys. They're like little puzzles, and I like that a lot. Outside of the RiD cars, I also have a Sky-Byte, who is pretty rad when you think about it (especially seeing as his characterisation is that of a sensitive poet LOL what a great baddy.)
Other than that, there's some ephemera too. I can only recall one Beast Wars toy (yes it's time), and that's Terrosaur. Now, I'm actually not that keen on Beast Wars toys, and was a bit too young to enjoy the cartoon series (what was it, like 1996? I was such a TRUKK NOT MUNKY guy when I was a kid). I didn't really like the fact that they turned into animals, and that on a lot of them, the animal mode was worn on the back of the robot (left over parts of the alt-mode like this are called kibble), and they just weren't the same Autobots and Decepticons that were in The Transformers The Movie... These Maximals and Predacons? Whatever. I got into watching the cartoon series in first year at University, and I now think it's bloody brilliant! There are a lot of smart in-jokes for the Fandom (whatever you do, do not annoy a fandom mmmmkay?) to enjoy, and the writing on the episodes is really top notch! The computer graphics are really dated nowadays, but I think that's part of the charm in some of the visual gags as well. 10/10 I recommend this series (if you like Transformers). What happened next, Beast Machines, is something that most people don't like to talk about. I'm a little uneasy about it as well, with bizarre toy design and a story line that is still difficult to get my head round.
That's basically as far as my collection goes. I've got about 98 issues of the Marvel comics series from the 80s (another inherited gift from my brother) in a draw, as well as some ancient choose-your-own adventure style books too. I don't really collect anymore because... I just don't really have the money! It's sad, isn't it? I have, of course, been to see all three of the new movies directed by MICHAEL BAY, and will definitely be going to see the fourth when that's released, but funnily enough don't own any of the toys. Once again, the designs are the main draw here, and while I think they look pretty good on screen (they're instantly recognisable after all), I'm not sure about how they work as toys, possibly the first time that the design importance has been that particular way round. The first film came out when I was in a pretty involved and long-term relationship (2007), and the subsequent sequels (2009 and 2011) came out while I was at university, and the only transformers I bought at uni were half of the build team from RiD (eBay purchases, but I only got half the team), and a beat up pretender shell for G1 Dreadwing. I dunno... Oh! And the War for Cybertron toy for Optimus Prime. I have a talent for working out how to transform an transformer without having to look at the transformation instructions. I love sitting and working it out, and it's pretty satisfying being able to convert them back and forth with a few swift clicks.
It is a little sad that I've stopped collecting for now, but at the moment I don't have the space to display them or the money to buy, being an impoverished choral scholar. Even at Mum's house they almost all live in a crate... Although my room at her house is in a perpetual state of being half packed for when I move house AGAIN. I keep up with a Transformers news site at least once or twice a week so I can stay abreast of new toys, new comic books, and of course news and rumours about the upcoming Transformers 4. I guess this has been my longest running collection (I've been buying transformers even before I started getting antique music scores) really! One day, when I have the time and money, I'll revive it. Just you watch.
That's all. For now.
Monday, 13 May 2013
Book Love
My favourite book... Tricky. To reduce all the things I've ever read down to just one favourite? Harsh, Master. After all, there are different books for different seasons. I'm not really the world's biggest book reader either these days, as we shall see...
This is tough, actually! As much as I am a fan of definition like this, I can't just pick one over all the rest. I'd suck at Desert Island Books. And Desert Island Discs probably as well, and I'm sure later on this month I'll follow the same path of struggling to decide. I have an odd relationship with books. It'll often take me a while to really get into prose, especially fiction - I still have a hard time suspending my disbelief after all. I can't even watch Spooks or even my newest burning interest Doctor Who without seeing all the cliche tropes (dodgy Russian accents or space-time macguffins). There was once a Lord of the Rings Blu-ray marathon that I straight up ruined with an unending stream of D&D jokes and Harry Potter references. I am a bad man. Once again, it's about expressing both sides of the coin here - I still had a good time watching the films, sure, but it doesn't stop me from calling out all the things that are similar to other things.
Anyway. Books. I am just as likely to sit on the sofa with a cup of tea (ahahahaha I've now got lacto-free milk rather than that Soya nightmare) with a Nigel Slater recipe book (because food is important yah)
Actually, a real favourite does come to mind. I was about 8 or 9 years old when I first read it, and I picked it up because I didn't really know what it was. MAUS by Art Spiegelman is one of the best books I've ever read. It is the harrowing account of holocaust survival, told in graphic form. All of this stuff happened, guys. It's horrific and sad, a testament to man's inhumanity to man, YES, but this is one man's story. The story of Vladek Spiegelman, his life before and during the rise of the Nazi party, first as a family man running a business to a survivor of various ghettos and death camps, including the infamous Auschwitz. It is a difficult book to describe, of unavoidable history and a minimalistic style of illustration. Spiegelman uses animal metaphors, presenting the characters as anthropromorphised animals according to their ethnicity and nationality and even sympathies; the Jews are mice, Germans as cats, Americans are dogs and the Polish as pigs. Its austere monochromaticism is a reminder of the gravity of story therein, but also as a way of drawing the reader in, rather than having a coloured page; where the different colours may mean different things to the reader than the author. This isn't supposed to be any kind of analysis - there isn't time or room here, and I certainly don't have hold of the literary technique to do so - read it for yourself. Beg, borrow or steal it if you have to (don't actually steal): it is an immensely powerful volume, and even the memory brings a tear to my eyes. As I age, I re-read it, because I love it, and in a way, I have grown up with it. Maus always comes with me, wherever I go. It is the first illustrated volume I ever read, which is probably why it has such a lasting effect.
Onwards. Another book that always comes with me wherever I move to the first cookery book I bought for myself: Floyd's India. Keith Floyd, perhaps one of the most famous alcoholics to ever be televised, with an inimitable rapport with his camera crew and a constant glass of something-or-other is another figure that I remember from an early age. No, I never met him, and I will always be sorry for that. His serialised TV adventures, now repeated only in parts on Saturday Morning Kitchen every now and again take our eponymous hero off to all sorts of far-flung locations, from the south of France, to London restaurant kitchens, the Far East and back, with a glass of plonk on set at all times. Seriously, this man drank almost as much as the Big Man! As a firm lover of curry (even though I haven't eaten curry in weeks...), I thought that one of my hero chef's books was an essential purpose. I also picked up a beaten-up copy of Floyd on France while I was in Norwich. The recipes are of course, rather difficult to follow on the shoestring budget I live to at the moment, with real spices being rather difficult to track down in Truro anyway. The prefaces to each chapter, concerned with a different facet of Indian cuisine, are delightfully written, and brimming with more character than everything I have written myself put together. Like Nigel Slater in this day and age, he is a man who simply loves food, and puts heart and soul into it. Floyd himself is definitely an "Old-School" kind of guy, private grammar school education and a short career in the army, but his personal health record seems like a tragic warning for future generations everywhere. Heart problems, cancer, diseases of the lungs... Not to mention several episodes of bankruptcy throughout his life. Sad indeed, when news of his death broke in 2009.
Such emotion! Lots of my belongings have similar deep connections to times and places in my life though. It's probably one of the reasons I always travel so heavily, so I have these memories around me all the time.
Another top book tied in to a very specific time of my life is Stephen Bicknell's The History of the English Organ. This was one of my research cornerstones for my dissertation, and I possibly would have gone stark raving mad without it. Stephen Bicknell, whose website still stands, worked for a long time as part of the English Organ building firm N. P. Mander Ltd, a company responsible for not only the construction, but also the care and restoration of many important instruments (not least the 'Little Giant' of Truro Cathedral, which received their attention in 1991). It is extremely informative, and a very well written book. I know that Organ building is quite a rare interest, but then again so is the Indian cuisine of an Englishman and Holocaust survival tales. Swings and roundabouts. Not only is the text provided excellent, and the black and white plates (in my paperback edition anyway) showing instruments, some of which have been since destroyed or remodeled beyond recognition (like ghosts?) illuminating, it is the best 'gateway' book into this area of study. Chock full of interesting technical detail, historical accounts from the amazingly pompous newspapers of the eighteenth century, and a list of instruments that still stand in their original (or near as) state, it's a book that kept me going through that terrible block. Can't write? Read! I stocked up on page references while I still couldn't churn out a sentence I was satisfied with.
Of course we have to have a music score. I think that for the purposes of this particular blog it will the the Universal Edition of Orlando Gibbons' Works for Organ. This is a score I have much history with as well. When I first began to teach myself how to play the Organ, I had no hope of playing the pedals. Thankfully, the old English schools of keyboard composition were there to flee to in time of trouble. This large green volume, with it's easy to read (if not easy to play) notation, discovered in the stacks of Derby central Library, became my book. All the datestamps in the front ticket can be traced directly back to me, and me alone. I once used a picture of a previous girlfriend as a marker, neglected to remove it once I returned the book, only to get it out again the next week, picture undisturbed. Leaving Derby, of course, took me away from it. I went to university, where I made other discoveries in keyboard music, not to mention a certain set of Suites for unaccompanied Violoncello. As a treat to myself, I finally ordered the book and have my own copy. It was rather expensive for a volume consisting of less than 20 compositions, but I didn't, and still don't care. It's mine. I rather like all the fantasias and preludes contained therein. They all have such different characters and often brilliant final passages to the last cadence! Gibbons is also the master of the English Cadence, which makes many appearances throughout.
Finally, a book I'm looking forward to reading - a favourite author. The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe is a mighty, weighty tome. Sat next to me here, in fearsome black and red leather binding and silver leaf lined pages, it is a considerable object - you may well have seen them in Waterstones, published by Barnes and Noble. It was a gift, bought and posted from America; namely the state of Maryland, where Poe eventually died in the city of Baltimore. It was sent to me by my very own best Georgia in the whole world, at great personal cost, but no personal peril. My first encounter with Poe, as I'm sure many others will agree with, was in the first Simpsons Treehouse of Horror Halloween special, where his 'signature' work, The Raven became the third act of the episode. I love The Raven. I think it's bloody brilliant. The fear of the unknown juxtaposed against an uncontrollable agent makes for a tense and atmospheric poem. That's right! A poem. However, Poe is responsible for more than just that, with famous prose works such as The Tell-Tale Heart and The Pit and the Pendulum. He is also responsible for one of the earliest-recognised detective stories; The Gold Bug, which I read as part of my GCSE English course. I have a lot to look forward to, and just like the complete works of Shakespeare that sits on my shelf, won't have to worry about rushing through by any respect.
Onwards and through the delay. I'll polish off Sunday's writing project off after a rest and a short sleep, I feel. This daily schedule isn't half beginning to take its toll...but we're nearly halfway there!
That's all. For now.
This is tough, actually! As much as I am a fan of definition like this, I can't just pick one over all the rest. I'd suck at Desert Island Books. And Desert Island Discs probably as well, and I'm sure later on this month I'll follow the same path of struggling to decide. I have an odd relationship with books. It'll often take me a while to really get into prose, especially fiction - I still have a hard time suspending my disbelief after all. I can't even watch Spooks or even my newest burning interest Doctor Who without seeing all the cliche tropes (dodgy Russian accents or space-time macguffins). There was once a Lord of the Rings Blu-ray marathon that I straight up ruined with an unending stream of D&D jokes and Harry Potter references. I am a bad man. Once again, it's about expressing both sides of the coin here - I still had a good time watching the films, sure, but it doesn't stop me from calling out all the things that are similar to other things.
Anyway. Books. I am just as likely to sit on the sofa with a cup of tea (ahahahaha I've now got lacto-free milk rather than that Soya nightmare) with a Nigel Slater recipe book (because food is important yah)
Actually, a real favourite does come to mind. I was about 8 or 9 years old when I first read it, and I picked it up because I didn't really know what it was. MAUS by Art Spiegelman is one of the best books I've ever read. It is the harrowing account of holocaust survival, told in graphic form. All of this stuff happened, guys. It's horrific and sad, a testament to man's inhumanity to man, YES, but this is one man's story. The story of Vladek Spiegelman, his life before and during the rise of the Nazi party, first as a family man running a business to a survivor of various ghettos and death camps, including the infamous Auschwitz. It is a difficult book to describe, of unavoidable history and a minimalistic style of illustration. Spiegelman uses animal metaphors, presenting the characters as anthropromorphised animals according to their ethnicity and nationality and even sympathies; the Jews are mice, Germans as cats, Americans are dogs and the Polish as pigs. Its austere monochromaticism is a reminder of the gravity of story therein, but also as a way of drawing the reader in, rather than having a coloured page; where the different colours may mean different things to the reader than the author. This isn't supposed to be any kind of analysis - there isn't time or room here, and I certainly don't have hold of the literary technique to do so - read it for yourself. Beg, borrow or steal it if you have to (don't actually steal): it is an immensely powerful volume, and even the memory brings a tear to my eyes. As I age, I re-read it, because I love it, and in a way, I have grown up with it. Maus always comes with me, wherever I go. It is the first illustrated volume I ever read, which is probably why it has such a lasting effect.
Onwards. Another book that always comes with me wherever I move to the first cookery book I bought for myself: Floyd's India. Keith Floyd, perhaps one of the most famous alcoholics to ever be televised, with an inimitable rapport with his camera crew and a constant glass of something-or-other is another figure that I remember from an early age. No, I never met him, and I will always be sorry for that. His serialised TV adventures, now repeated only in parts on Saturday Morning Kitchen every now and again take our eponymous hero off to all sorts of far-flung locations, from the south of France, to London restaurant kitchens, the Far East and back, with a glass of plonk on set at all times. Seriously, this man drank almost as much as the Big Man! As a firm lover of curry (even though I haven't eaten curry in weeks...), I thought that one of my hero chef's books was an essential purpose. I also picked up a beaten-up copy of Floyd on France while I was in Norwich. The recipes are of course, rather difficult to follow on the shoestring budget I live to at the moment, with real spices being rather difficult to track down in Truro anyway. The prefaces to each chapter, concerned with a different facet of Indian cuisine, are delightfully written, and brimming with more character than everything I have written myself put together. Like Nigel Slater in this day and age, he is a man who simply loves food, and puts heart and soul into it. Floyd himself is definitely an "Old-School" kind of guy, private grammar school education and a short career in the army, but his personal health record seems like a tragic warning for future generations everywhere. Heart problems, cancer, diseases of the lungs... Not to mention several episodes of bankruptcy throughout his life. Sad indeed, when news of his death broke in 2009.
Such emotion! Lots of my belongings have similar deep connections to times and places in my life though. It's probably one of the reasons I always travel so heavily, so I have these memories around me all the time.
Another top book tied in to a very specific time of my life is Stephen Bicknell's The History of the English Organ. This was one of my research cornerstones for my dissertation, and I possibly would have gone stark raving mad without it. Stephen Bicknell, whose website still stands, worked for a long time as part of the English Organ building firm N. P. Mander Ltd, a company responsible for not only the construction, but also the care and restoration of many important instruments (not least the 'Little Giant' of Truro Cathedral, which received their attention in 1991). It is extremely informative, and a very well written book. I know that Organ building is quite a rare interest, but then again so is the Indian cuisine of an Englishman and Holocaust survival tales. Swings and roundabouts. Not only is the text provided excellent, and the black and white plates (in my paperback edition anyway) showing instruments, some of which have been since destroyed or remodeled beyond recognition (like ghosts?) illuminating, it is the best 'gateway' book into this area of study. Chock full of interesting technical detail, historical accounts from the amazingly pompous newspapers of the eighteenth century, and a list of instruments that still stand in their original (or near as) state, it's a book that kept me going through that terrible block. Can't write? Read! I stocked up on page references while I still couldn't churn out a sentence I was satisfied with.
Of course we have to have a music score. I think that for the purposes of this particular blog it will the the Universal Edition of Orlando Gibbons' Works for Organ. This is a score I have much history with as well. When I first began to teach myself how to play the Organ, I had no hope of playing the pedals. Thankfully, the old English schools of keyboard composition were there to flee to in time of trouble. This large green volume, with it's easy to read (if not easy to play) notation, discovered in the stacks of Derby central Library, became my book. All the datestamps in the front ticket can be traced directly back to me, and me alone. I once used a picture of a previous girlfriend as a marker, neglected to remove it once I returned the book, only to get it out again the next week, picture undisturbed. Leaving Derby, of course, took me away from it. I went to university, where I made other discoveries in keyboard music, not to mention a certain set of Suites for unaccompanied Violoncello. As a treat to myself, I finally ordered the book and have my own copy. It was rather expensive for a volume consisting of less than 20 compositions, but I didn't, and still don't care. It's mine. I rather like all the fantasias and preludes contained therein. They all have such different characters and often brilliant final passages to the last cadence! Gibbons is also the master of the English Cadence, which makes many appearances throughout.
Finally, a book I'm looking forward to reading - a favourite author. The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe is a mighty, weighty tome. Sat next to me here, in fearsome black and red leather binding and silver leaf lined pages, it is a considerable object - you may well have seen them in Waterstones, published by Barnes and Noble. It was a gift, bought and posted from America; namely the state of Maryland, where Poe eventually died in the city of Baltimore. It was sent to me by my very own best Georgia in the whole world, at great personal cost, but no personal peril. My first encounter with Poe, as I'm sure many others will agree with, was in the first Simpsons Treehouse of Horror Halloween special, where his 'signature' work, The Raven became the third act of the episode. I love The Raven. I think it's bloody brilliant. The fear of the unknown juxtaposed against an uncontrollable agent makes for a tense and atmospheric poem. That's right! A poem. However, Poe is responsible for more than just that, with famous prose works such as The Tell-Tale Heart and The Pit and the Pendulum. He is also responsible for one of the earliest-recognised detective stories; The Gold Bug, which I read as part of my GCSE English course. I have a lot to look forward to, and just like the complete works of Shakespeare that sits on my shelf, won't have to worry about rushing through by any respect.
Onwards and through the delay. I'll polish off Sunday's writing project off after a rest and a short sleep, I feel. This daily schedule isn't half beginning to take its toll...but we're nearly halfway there!
That's all. For now.
Saturday, 11 May 2013
Travel Dreams
I don't travel much, I am not a well traveled man... Which is a terrible shame!
I've never been a rich man either, and because travel costs money, we have reached an impasse in the narrative already. My usual forays away from the homestead are in the shape of choir tours, and this year will be no different. Truro Cathedral Choir are on their way to Sweden this year, in August, and it promises two things: Singing and, well... Drinking, let's be honest. Prices for alcohol might be supposedly sky high over there, but remember! There is always another way.
But let's pretend that I have endless supplies of cash. Oodles of frequent flier miles, I dunno. Where do I want to go? Where would I choose to go? (Because it's about what you choose, not what you want) Predictably (is it predictable?), I'd like to go to America. It'd be nice to go to the land of the almighty Dollar (which I suppose isn't exactly so almighty these days) just to experience it. I've spent all my life within European borders, and I'd like to get out and see the other side of the pacific. Even now, my friends are finishing their years abroad, and have had various results. I dunno how much American TV I've watched, and I know it's completely wrong to base one's expectations from mere entertainment... So it would be nice to see what sort of reality it comes from. I can read about as many cultural differences as I like, but nothing will ever beat going over there. I hear even the air's different too.
I've been to Germany a total of 4 (that's right, FOUR) times as well, and I wouldn't mind going back. My sister spent a year in Berlin on her internship with the Institute of Cultural Diplomacy, and she intends to go back there to celebrate her birthday. What a Git. Anyway, I've been to Berlin for a grand total of three days, choir trips to Osnabruck for a week and a tour of the Rhineland, and a school trip to the Black Forest. Berlin particularly (probably because it was the most recent in... 2006! Erk) stands out, being stood out on a balcony til the early hours of the morning, and then repairing to the 24 hour bar in the Sunflower hostel for a coke, while the English guy with the dreadlocks NEVER SLEEPS. Ahh... Happy days indeed!
Closer to home though, I'd really like to get back to England for a bit. There is actually a difference down here in Cornwall, culturally and meteorologically to say the least, and seeing as I the last time I left Truro was to go to Norwich last October, I really need to get out more! There are more than enough in the way of churches and beaches and everything in between down here though to keep me occupied while I'm forgetting my writing schedule. I do love living away from home, but it's almost as if I can't go anywhere at the moment due to abject poverty. Do you even bloody know how expensive it is to travel on the trains these days I mean OY GEVALT.
Never having traveled as a child, I've just gotten used to...not really thinking about it. I still get envious, which I know that I really shouldn't do, but still... When you're stuck in while other people are off to fabulous destinations... Oh well. I'd love to travel on my own, as stressed as it would make me. I have enough problems on the Tube through London, could you imagine me interrailing around Europe? It'd be brutal. I'm terrible at traveling light, that's for sure. The last time I went to Norwich I took my backpack, my case AND my Banjo, which on the tube on the way home was nothing short of murder. I'd like to say I've learned from this experience... but probably not. I take a lot of things with me when I travel so I feel comfortable all the time. It's crazy, I know, and I'm sure that I just need to go traveling with basically nothing to snap me out of it but... I dunno.
Of course, signing on as a Lay-Vicar will keep me in Cornwall for a few years yet. Maybe, once I get a job, I'll be able to get away when and indeed, where I want to without having to worry about traveling on a shoestring.
I've never been a rich man either, and because travel costs money, we have reached an impasse in the narrative already. My usual forays away from the homestead are in the shape of choir tours, and this year will be no different. Truro Cathedral Choir are on their way to Sweden this year, in August, and it promises two things: Singing and, well... Drinking, let's be honest. Prices for alcohol might be supposedly sky high over there, but remember! There is always another way.
But let's pretend that I have endless supplies of cash. Oodles of frequent flier miles, I dunno. Where do I want to go? Where would I choose to go? (Because it's about what you choose, not what you want) Predictably (is it predictable?), I'd like to go to America. It'd be nice to go to the land of the almighty Dollar (which I suppose isn't exactly so almighty these days) just to experience it. I've spent all my life within European borders, and I'd like to get out and see the other side of the pacific. Even now, my friends are finishing their years abroad, and have had various results. I dunno how much American TV I've watched, and I know it's completely wrong to base one's expectations from mere entertainment... So it would be nice to see what sort of reality it comes from. I can read about as many cultural differences as I like, but nothing will ever beat going over there. I hear even the air's different too.
I've been to Germany a total of 4 (that's right, FOUR) times as well, and I wouldn't mind going back. My sister spent a year in Berlin on her internship with the Institute of Cultural Diplomacy, and she intends to go back there to celebrate her birthday. What a Git. Anyway, I've been to Berlin for a grand total of three days, choir trips to Osnabruck for a week and a tour of the Rhineland, and a school trip to the Black Forest. Berlin particularly (probably because it was the most recent in... 2006! Erk) stands out, being stood out on a balcony til the early hours of the morning, and then repairing to the 24 hour bar in the Sunflower hostel for a coke, while the English guy with the dreadlocks NEVER SLEEPS. Ahh... Happy days indeed!
Closer to home though, I'd really like to get back to England for a bit. There is actually a difference down here in Cornwall, culturally and meteorologically to say the least, and seeing as I the last time I left Truro was to go to Norwich last October, I really need to get out more! There are more than enough in the way of churches and beaches and everything in between down here though to keep me occupied while I'm forgetting my writing schedule. I do love living away from home, but it's almost as if I can't go anywhere at the moment due to abject poverty. Do you even bloody know how expensive it is to travel on the trains these days I mean OY GEVALT.
Never having traveled as a child, I've just gotten used to...not really thinking about it. I still get envious, which I know that I really shouldn't do, but still... When you're stuck in while other people are off to fabulous destinations... Oh well. I'd love to travel on my own, as stressed as it would make me. I have enough problems on the Tube through London, could you imagine me interrailing around Europe? It'd be brutal. I'm terrible at traveling light, that's for sure. The last time I went to Norwich I took my backpack, my case AND my Banjo, which on the tube on the way home was nothing short of murder. I'd like to say I've learned from this experience... but probably not. I take a lot of things with me when I travel so I feel comfortable all the time. It's crazy, I know, and I'm sure that I just need to go traveling with basically nothing to snap me out of it but... I dunno.
Of course, signing on as a Lay-Vicar will keep me in Cornwall for a few years yet. Maybe, once I get a job, I'll be able to get away when and indeed, where I want to without having to worry about traveling on a shoestring.
Friday, 10 May 2013
Favourite Social Media Channel
Another title I have almost no idea where to start with. Oy...
I regularly use a triumvirate of Social Media channels: Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr - I prefer to tumbl anonymously though, some of you reading will know my name (and indeed my url) and it isn't that hard to find me if you really think about it. I use them for different things though, so it's hard to pick one out of these three. I don't really use YouTube really that often, have no idea about Pinterest, I'm not registered on Google+, and since there still isn't a Windows Phone App, I don't use Instagram (I have some picture editing software for my 'Instant Pictogram' album on Facebook, but that's it.) I don't subscribe to that false hipster aged photo thing really, and I haven't done any new ones for ages. Perhaps it's time that I did. BUT I DIGRESS. A long time ago, at the behest of my first girlfriend, I had a MySpace page... But I don't talk about that anymore. I vaguely recall talking about it very recently, so we'd best not chance it by talking about it any more.
So let's dance. What is it about Facebook and Twitter? Could I choose one? Do I have to/ Of course I don't. This is my blog, and my rules. They fulfill different purposes though, and that's why I can't decide. I use Facebook for my pictures, and staying in touch with people a little more directly - I know I owe letters and I should really just sit down and write them but I keep forgetting and I am SORRY but I promise to start again. Of course, I self promote terribly (I am also at self-promotion, but that is tied into my poor self esteem, OF COURSE), with events set and people invited for my recitals and formerly my curry nights; and naturally, links to almost every published blog I write. Facebook is much more of a public face than anything else with my identity on the Internet, and I filter it accordingly. There's definitely less in the way of vulgarity; I have a huge range of friends and I don't know all the time who's watching or following my statuses (stati?) &c, so I'm usually pretty careful. I've even become more aware of my audience here, and swear far less than I used to, unless I have a particular point to make in that particular way. Sometimes, bad language is the answer. Facebook, for all it's timeline changes and ridiculous 'like' pages, still keeps me connected to people from School, from University, and naturally, quires and places. I'm easily trackable through my Facebook, because I'm quite happy to have people contact me directly. If people want to get hold of me, they have the option to do so, straight up. I'm usually always on Facebook if I'm connected to the internet as well, so it's pretty easy to get hold of me in real time as well. As long as I remember to reply.
As for Twitter, it's much more instantaneous. My language is much, much worse as a rule. Yet more shameless blog promotion, cool, but Twitter allows me to follow all sorts of people that I don't on Facebook. I still keep my regular Webcomic round, and I follow all the creators on Twitter. Artists such as Chris Yates is a particular favourite of mine, and I can't wait until I have some disposable income to spend on his amazing bafflers!, which really push the envelope of puzzling. Every now and again I 'livetweet' an event - and endless stream of updates about whatever situation is unfolding (such as the Olympic Games opening ceremony). It's something that wouldn't really be possible on Facebook, I feel that Twitter moves much quicker, even though everything stays there for, well, ever! For me, Facebook is a bit more serious. Saying that, however, I help run Truro Cathedral's Twitter account, putting up details of the daily services alongside the official Communications Officer at the cathedral Office handling press-involved matters as well. Remember kids, on my twitter, all my views are definitely my own (just like they are here), and do not in any way shape or form reflect those of any institution that I may have been or continue to be part of. Phew.
And tumblr? Don't even go there. I don't even use my real name there (but what's in a name?), but I guess if you look hard enough you can find it. Oh I already said that...
At a push, I suppose I just can't call a favourite! I told you before, I'm not indecisive, I'm bad at making decisions. The big three are my way through the social side of the internet - People that I know, endless raging tirades, and the source of cat pictures for ever.
That's all. For now.
I regularly use a triumvirate of Social Media channels: Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr - I prefer to tumbl anonymously though, some of you reading will know my name (and indeed my url) and it isn't that hard to find me if you really think about it. I use them for different things though, so it's hard to pick one out of these three. I don't really use YouTube really that often, have no idea about Pinterest, I'm not registered on Google+, and since there still isn't a Windows Phone App, I don't use Instagram (I have some picture editing software for my 'Instant Pictogram' album on Facebook, but that's it.) I don't subscribe to that false hipster aged photo thing really, and I haven't done any new ones for ages. Perhaps it's time that I did. BUT I DIGRESS. A long time ago, at the behest of my first girlfriend, I had a MySpace page... But I don't talk about that anymore. I vaguely recall talking about it very recently, so we'd best not chance it by talking about it any more.
So let's dance. What is it about Facebook and Twitter? Could I choose one? Do I have to/ Of course I don't. This is my blog, and my rules. They fulfill different purposes though, and that's why I can't decide. I use Facebook for my pictures, and staying in touch with people a little more directly - I know I owe letters and I should really just sit down and write them but I keep forgetting and I am SORRY but I promise to start again. Of course, I self promote terribly (I am also at self-promotion, but that is tied into my poor self esteem, OF COURSE), with events set and people invited for my recitals and formerly my curry nights; and naturally, links to almost every published blog I write. Facebook is much more of a public face than anything else with my identity on the Internet, and I filter it accordingly. There's definitely less in the way of vulgarity; I have a huge range of friends and I don't know all the time who's watching or following my statuses (stati?) &c, so I'm usually pretty careful. I've even become more aware of my audience here, and swear far less than I used to, unless I have a particular point to make in that particular way. Sometimes, bad language is the answer. Facebook, for all it's timeline changes and ridiculous 'like' pages, still keeps me connected to people from School, from University, and naturally, quires and places. I'm easily trackable through my Facebook, because I'm quite happy to have people contact me directly. If people want to get hold of me, they have the option to do so, straight up. I'm usually always on Facebook if I'm connected to the internet as well, so it's pretty easy to get hold of me in real time as well. As long as I remember to reply.
As for Twitter, it's much more instantaneous. My language is much, much worse as a rule. Yet more shameless blog promotion, cool, but Twitter allows me to follow all sorts of people that I don't on Facebook. I still keep my regular Webcomic round, and I follow all the creators on Twitter. Artists such as Chris Yates is a particular favourite of mine, and I can't wait until I have some disposable income to spend on his amazing bafflers!, which really push the envelope of puzzling. Every now and again I 'livetweet' an event - and endless stream of updates about whatever situation is unfolding (such as the Olympic Games opening ceremony). It's something that wouldn't really be possible on Facebook, I feel that Twitter moves much quicker, even though everything stays there for, well, ever! For me, Facebook is a bit more serious. Saying that, however, I help run Truro Cathedral's Twitter account, putting up details of the daily services alongside the official Communications Officer at the cathedral Office handling press-involved matters as well. Remember kids, on my twitter, all my views are definitely my own (just like they are here), and do not in any way shape or form reflect those of any institution that I may have been or continue to be part of. Phew.
And tumblr? Don't even go there. I don't even use my real name there (but what's in a name?), but I guess if you look hard enough you can find it. Oh I already said that...
At a push, I suppose I just can't call a favourite! I told you before, I'm not indecisive, I'm bad at making decisions. The big three are my way through the social side of the internet - People that I know, endless raging tirades, and the source of cat pictures for ever.
That's all. For now.
Thursday, 9 May 2013
First Job
Now now, at this rate I'll be getting into bad habits. It's after midnight before I've even started this one, although seeing as it's about employment you can hardly blame me for putting it off...
Ah. My first job. What even was it? I haven't exactly been blessed with a lot of employment... No, let me rephrase that, I haven't been blessed with a lot of long-term employment. Much better. Funnily enough of all the things in the world, I actually consider being part of a church choir a job! I'm quite old-fashioned in that view, and perhaps rather out-dated, but out of all the Choral Scholar groups that I've been part of (two years at Mancroft and two years at Truro), I've certainly taken it the most seriously, and more an end of itself rather than a means. More on that story later in a post I'm still working on in the times that I still feel like writing once the daily blog has been done. As I'm sure to repeat myself in this future blog (ooh am I whetting your appetite, am I), I always saw this as a job as I get paid for a service - in this case, singing. The Master/Director of Music is my boss, and the rest of the team (Songmen, Scholars, Lay-Vicars alongside the choristers) are my colleagues. We work together (as a choir) in our services, rehearsals and concerts (assignments, call-outs, tasks...whatever) and then we get paid for doing so. I was always paid as a chorister as well, not hugely by any mistake (be under no illusion), but it was my money that I earned by myself. My time at Derby is formally over, and I got myself taken off the Dep list before I started at Truro. SOB.
Other than that, paid employment sees fit to escape me. I volunteered at the Oxfam shop in Belper off and on for a long time actually, about three years all told, where I scored an impressive collection of records including my 3 Vinyl set of Handel's Messiah (don't ask who it is because I don't have it here with me, but suffice to say it's pretty old). I learned some core skills at Oxfam, such as (but not limited to):
! Damp hurts vinyl, like, real bad
£ If it's electric, they couldn't sell it
$ Alphabetising music scores is really something I'm good at
% Take pricing with a pinch of salt (BUT know that Oxfam run a pricing book now so the prices are the same the land over)
I eventually made the book shed my base of operations as far as Oxfam was concerned. As I traipsed through my degree, I neither applied for nor found paid work except for, of course, my Choral Scholarship to the Church of the Parish of St. Peter Mancroft, Norwich. While the pay for such a position is less that stratospheric, it allowed me to pay off my share of a winter heating bill I still quote to this day. Seriously. It's not an exciting story by any respect though.
During my third year, however, I volunteered (or was I volunteered for me?) to be the Choir Librarian for the University's main choir, made up of Music Students (although not for much longer eh eh eh), any other student who successfully auditioned, and members of the general public (formerly not auditioned but then auditioned in my...third year? Anybody reading who can remember that?) and learned ever more interesting things:
& If there is no key holder on site IT IS ILLEGAL TO HAVE THIS MANY PEOPLE IN THIS ROOM
() There will always be hundreds of sopranos in the first rehearsal, which then falls by at least half over the course of the first half term
{} The same 20 Tenors and Basses will be all the Tenors and Basses you will ever have ever
[] There will always be first years who do not return scores. There's always one. No question.
@ People generally have no manners, and will attempt to grab a score and run regardless of almost anything else
This unpaid yet, uh, 'rewarding' position still sits there, merrily taking its place on the voluntary section of my Curriculum Vitae. I have utilised the skills I learned during my time as Librarian in other, similar circumstances, such as the COME AND SING (everything but the Credo) MOZART'S CORONATION MASS in Truro Cathedral in April. There's nothing like ticking names off, handing out scores...and then realising that unless you actually see every last person you gave a score to you have no way of guaranteeing that all the scores come back, incurring shame on your family for generations and ponderous library fines.
As I ended my degree, my thoughts turned first to escape the insanity that led to the hand in of my dissertation, one of the best things I ever wrote (as long as we're not including this HAH), and thus a trip to Exeter was both hatched and executed! Once I came back to Norwich, to my flat (my friends, my family), I sat about considering my lot, and where best to look for my next move: ah yes! My old-yet-never-really-finished job as a Choral Scholar! That, and that alone sent me on the path to Truro. I almost went to St. David's, in Pembrokeshire (being familiar with the Cathedral and the surrounding...hamlet after going there on holiday with a previous girlfriend), but due to one or two things that I may or may not have mentioned before, I was appointed very swiftly. And very happily! But once again, this sort of thing doesn't pay excessively well, and since then I have been trying to find work to...complement this appointment (as I like to say in my covering letters).
I've worked in offices, schools, the Cathedral restaurant... and now I'm looking for work again. I'm basically doing the same as always, handing out CV's...but this time I'm giving out a covering letter as well, handwritten to save time of typing, saving and printing.
I think, and indeed, I feel that unless I ever give up on it, being a part of a Cathedral Choir will always be my first job: even now as I sink to the bottom of my overdraft it's still my priority, reflected in how I behave, think and talk about it. Hopefully, I can find work that doesn't mean quite so much (emotionally, professionally, educationally) to me, but can pay a great deal more so I don't have to worry quite so much.
That's all. For now.
Ah. My first job. What even was it? I haven't exactly been blessed with a lot of employment... No, let me rephrase that, I haven't been blessed with a lot of long-term employment. Much better. Funnily enough of all the things in the world, I actually consider being part of a church choir a job! I'm quite old-fashioned in that view, and perhaps rather out-dated, but out of all the Choral Scholar groups that I've been part of (two years at Mancroft and two years at Truro), I've certainly taken it the most seriously, and more an end of itself rather than a means. More on that story later in a post I'm still working on in the times that I still feel like writing once the daily blog has been done. As I'm sure to repeat myself in this future blog (ooh am I whetting your appetite, am I), I always saw this as a job as I get paid for a service - in this case, singing. The Master/Director of Music is my boss, and the rest of the team (Songmen, Scholars, Lay-Vicars alongside the choristers) are my colleagues. We work together (as a choir) in our services, rehearsals and concerts (assignments, call-outs, tasks...whatever) and then we get paid for doing so. I was always paid as a chorister as well, not hugely by any mistake (be under no illusion), but it was my money that I earned by myself. My time at Derby is formally over, and I got myself taken off the Dep list before I started at Truro. SOB.
Other than that, paid employment sees fit to escape me. I volunteered at the Oxfam shop in Belper off and on for a long time actually, about three years all told, where I scored an impressive collection of records including my 3 Vinyl set of Handel's Messiah (don't ask who it is because I don't have it here with me, but suffice to say it's pretty old). I learned some core skills at Oxfam, such as (but not limited to):
! Damp hurts vinyl, like, real bad
£ If it's electric, they couldn't sell it
$ Alphabetising music scores is really something I'm good at
% Take pricing with a pinch of salt (BUT know that Oxfam run a pricing book now so the prices are the same the land over)
I eventually made the book shed my base of operations as far as Oxfam was concerned. As I traipsed through my degree, I neither applied for nor found paid work except for, of course, my Choral Scholarship to the Church of the Parish of St. Peter Mancroft, Norwich. While the pay for such a position is less that stratospheric, it allowed me to pay off my share of a winter heating bill I still quote to this day. Seriously. It's not an exciting story by any respect though.
During my third year, however, I volunteered (or was I volunteered for me?) to be the Choir Librarian for the University's main choir, made up of Music Students (although not for much longer eh eh eh), any other student who successfully auditioned, and members of the general public (formerly not auditioned but then auditioned in my...third year? Anybody reading who can remember that?) and learned ever more interesting things:
& If there is no key holder on site IT IS ILLEGAL TO HAVE THIS MANY PEOPLE IN THIS ROOM
() There will always be hundreds of sopranos in the first rehearsal, which then falls by at least half over the course of the first half term
{} The same 20 Tenors and Basses will be all the Tenors and Basses you will ever have ever
[] There will always be first years who do not return scores. There's always one. No question.
@ People generally have no manners, and will attempt to grab a score and run regardless of almost anything else
This unpaid yet, uh, 'rewarding' position still sits there, merrily taking its place on the voluntary section of my Curriculum Vitae. I have utilised the skills I learned during my time as Librarian in other, similar circumstances, such as the COME AND SING (everything but the Credo) MOZART'S CORONATION MASS in Truro Cathedral in April. There's nothing like ticking names off, handing out scores...and then realising that unless you actually see every last person you gave a score to you have no way of guaranteeing that all the scores come back, incurring shame on your family for generations and ponderous library fines.
As I ended my degree, my thoughts turned first to escape the insanity that led to the hand in of my dissertation, one of the best things I ever wrote (as long as we're not including this HAH), and thus a trip to Exeter was both hatched and executed! Once I came back to Norwich, to my flat (my friends, my family), I sat about considering my lot, and where best to look for my next move: ah yes! My old-yet-never-really-finished job as a Choral Scholar! That, and that alone sent me on the path to Truro. I almost went to St. David's, in Pembrokeshire (being familiar with the Cathedral and the surrounding...hamlet after going there on holiday with a previous girlfriend), but due to one or two things that I may or may not have mentioned before, I was appointed very swiftly. And very happily! But once again, this sort of thing doesn't pay excessively well, and since then I have been trying to find work to...complement this appointment (as I like to say in my covering letters).
I've worked in offices, schools, the Cathedral restaurant... and now I'm looking for work again. I'm basically doing the same as always, handing out CV's...but this time I'm giving out a covering letter as well, handwritten to save time of typing, saving and printing.
I think, and indeed, I feel that unless I ever give up on it, being a part of a Cathedral Choir will always be my first job: even now as I sink to the bottom of my overdraft it's still my priority, reflected in how I behave, think and talk about it. Hopefully, I can find work that doesn't mean quite so much (emotionally, professionally, educationally) to me, but can pay a great deal more so I don't have to worry quite so much.
That's all. For now.
Wednesday, 8 May 2013
Pets
Pets, pets pets...
I already commented on some of these titles being somewhat far away from my native style and this is certainly one of them...what do I have to say about pets?
I haven't had a pet for years. We used to keep fish in the house, the first of which was a fair ground prize (I suppose some Great British traditions die hard, after all), none of which had particularly extended lifespans, and even before that (many hundreds of years ago) I used to keep a thriving colony of Indian Stick insects, whose defining feature as a species is being able to reproduce without a male and therefore snide you out with an almost infinite number of offspring. One thing that they do not like, however, is the cold; a sad fact that ended the life of that particular colony one year.
Since moving to Littleover, however, we have had no terrestrial animals. That's right. Allow me to explain. There is a pond (not a terribly deep one) in the ever-decreasing back garden, in which mother keeps her livestock, a small shoal of Koi! We've been through I don't even remember how many generations of Koi now, and I remember coming home from Sixth Form (complete in my suit), on a warm summer's day, and immediately evacuating the pond of water, filth, and sadly, dead fish. I also remember spying the still body of one fish to this very day, who had fallen asleep on top of a brick that we kept in the pond to stand a small fountain on, the last time it ever did.
Mum's luck with fish has thankfully increased, however, and we have the same pondful as before I started at Truro! They have terribly pun-tastic names: Rick Astley, Spot, Flash and Tony Hadley. Yes I had a hand in naming them AS IF YOU CAN'T TELL. However, they are mother's, and not mine. I too take responsibility for part of the pond life however and that is THE COLONY. Every year, frogs visit the pond and use it as a breeding ground. The resulting spawn hatches into thousands of tiny tadpoles, some of whom die;some of whom are eaten by the fish; some of whom are eaten by their fellows; and the remainder of whom grow into frogs and take their chances with the rest of the world. One year the Colony was so numerous that we didn't see the fish for a fortnight: I joked that the tadpoles had eaten the fish. My mother was less than amused... I always ask after the health of my beloved polliwogs though.
Since moving to Truro, in yet another shared lodging, I haven't had any animals. I always travel with Wilbur, the black hardwood African Hippo, my taciturn chum that he is. I'm not even sure what if anything I'd be able to keep, actually, as I have a notorious allergy to fur... I've been getting better as I've got older though, so fingers crossed y'all so I too can become a crazy cat man. I seem to have relaxed into that very fashionably Cornish thing of liking dogs. I've never really liked dogs, there's something about their prerogative for making a lot of noise, often in the comparatively small space of a room. This aversion has been... partially reversed by my regular contact with an animal I genuinely describe as 'the World's Stupidest Dog', who belongs to Janet, one of my ancient Mother's friends from long, long ago... and also Slough. Eurgh.
Sorry that was so boring. I'm just at a point in my life where I don't have pets, you know. They've never really been a big part of my life, which I suppose is sad on one level. Anyway! Tune in next time, same place, same channel.
That's all. For now.
I already commented on some of these titles being somewhat far away from my native style and this is certainly one of them...what do I have to say about pets?
I haven't had a pet for years. We used to keep fish in the house, the first of which was a fair ground prize (I suppose some Great British traditions die hard, after all), none of which had particularly extended lifespans, and even before that (many hundreds of years ago) I used to keep a thriving colony of Indian Stick insects, whose defining feature as a species is being able to reproduce without a male and therefore snide you out with an almost infinite number of offspring. One thing that they do not like, however, is the cold; a sad fact that ended the life of that particular colony one year.
Since moving to Littleover, however, we have had no terrestrial animals. That's right. Allow me to explain. There is a pond (not a terribly deep one) in the ever-decreasing back garden, in which mother keeps her livestock, a small shoal of Koi! We've been through I don't even remember how many generations of Koi now, and I remember coming home from Sixth Form (complete in my suit), on a warm summer's day, and immediately evacuating the pond of water, filth, and sadly, dead fish. I also remember spying the still body of one fish to this very day, who had fallen asleep on top of a brick that we kept in the pond to stand a small fountain on, the last time it ever did.
Mum's luck with fish has thankfully increased, however, and we have the same pondful as before I started at Truro! They have terribly pun-tastic names: Rick Astley, Spot, Flash and Tony Hadley. Yes I had a hand in naming them AS IF YOU CAN'T TELL. However, they are mother's, and not mine. I too take responsibility for part of the pond life however and that is THE COLONY. Every year, frogs visit the pond and use it as a breeding ground. The resulting spawn hatches into thousands of tiny tadpoles, some of whom die;some of whom are eaten by the fish; some of whom are eaten by their fellows; and the remainder of whom grow into frogs and take their chances with the rest of the world. One year the Colony was so numerous that we didn't see the fish for a fortnight: I joked that the tadpoles had eaten the fish. My mother was less than amused... I always ask after the health of my beloved polliwogs though.
Since moving to Truro, in yet another shared lodging, I haven't had any animals. I always travel with Wilbur, the black hardwood African Hippo, my taciturn chum that he is. I'm not even sure what if anything I'd be able to keep, actually, as I have a notorious allergy to fur... I've been getting better as I've got older though, so fingers crossed y'all so I too can become a crazy cat man. I seem to have relaxed into that very fashionably Cornish thing of liking dogs. I've never really liked dogs, there's something about their prerogative for making a lot of noise, often in the comparatively small space of a room. This aversion has been... partially reversed by my regular contact with an animal I genuinely describe as 'the World's Stupidest Dog', who belongs to Janet, one of my ancient Mother's friends from long, long ago... and also Slough. Eurgh.
Sorry that was so boring. I'm just at a point in my life where I don't have pets, you know. They've never really been a big part of my life, which I suppose is sad on one level. Anyway! Tune in next time, same place, same channel.
That's all. For now.
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