I sing in a choir. It is mostly made up of French people, that's why I joined, to exercise my French speaking skills. It hasn't improved them much though. Everyone talks so fast that I can hardly make out any single words, let alone make sense of entire sentences. Not to worry. At least I feel I am making the effort at joining in with the local community.
We all went to Bayonne, on the South West coast of France, last Spring, and a fantastic time was had by all. But the host choir was top notch, leaving our Mabourguet choir a little in the shade. We did our best, but was out flanked by the quality of the other choir.
That other choir is coming to visit us on Saturday. They will stay for the weekend, be shown round the local wine chateau, will sing, will be fed. It is a big weekend for our choir and Mabourguet.
I like to sing. I have not done much singing during my life, though. Music, yes, mostly via the piano, and now my keyboard, but singing has not been a big thing with me. And then, last year, something happened, I don't know what, but I started finding my voice. It is not a marvellous voice, but it can hold a tune, and has a power. It is not a 'thin' voice. It can make a big noise if it has to. This might be because of not having neighbours, that I can yell my head off if I feel like it without anyone hearing. This is a novelty after years of living with neighbours who are sharing the other side of the connecting walls, of still using a raised voice but all the while aware that the people on the other side of the wall could probably hear every word I was saying. Perhaps that is why I have found my voice.
Or perhaps it is because I am in a good space in my life. Perhaps my voice is reflecting my general state of well being despite the battles with living in a foreign country in a ruin of a house. Perhaps my voice is telling me that I am where I am meant to be.
I have always been a bit of an entertainer, and yet I am quite a shy person at heart. I seem to blossom when in front of people, and can do public speaking quite well. I can't do a lot of things, but I can do this. And I miss this side of me. It is absent here. Not because I don't want to let this side of me see the light of day, but because there is no opportunity for it to be used. Back in the UK, this side of me was busy, but here, with a changed lifestyle, it is not.
It is almost as if there is a hunger in me to be up front. Is this my ego? I don't think so. After I have done my bit I tend to quietly withdraw, leaving as quickly as I can. I don't like the fuss afterwards. Last December I was the chef d'orchestre (conductor) for a choir whose normal leader had debunked back to the UK for good and all. At the last minute I was asked to fill the vacant space. I did. With heart beating wildly I stood in front of that choir, with the church, on the two occasions of the Christmas concerts, packed to the rafters, full of people. With them at the back of me and the choir in front of me, I made the place rock. Jingle Bells will never be the same again for some people.
But after it was done, and I had given of my best, I left, leaving everyone else to partake of the food and wine. I had done the job which was asked of me, and I did it well, maybe a bit too well because there were lots of priests about the place and I did have cause to wonder if perhaps this lightness and jollity was a tad over the top for them to cope with. It must be hard being celibate. They must have to put an iron fist around parts of themselves.
A few weeks ago, that 'entertainer' side of me was given light of day again, as I was asked by a friend to sing 'Amazing Grace' with her. This was with the Mabourguet choir. Crikey but my heart was pattering at a fast rate as I stood in front of the choir on the evening of the concert. And I managed, not as well as I might have done, and my voice did do a crackle once or twice but with my friend singing away beside me and the choir harmonising behind me, it went largely unnoticed, I think. It was the first time I had sung in public. It was a big thing for me. I loved it.
And now this concert on Saturday has arrived. It is a big concert, quite prestigious, and I am to sing. I have been practising. I am more confident.
Rehearsals last night. No pianist. Gone away to England for a holiday. Not to worry. Last time they rented a pianist when they didn't have one. Nope. Can't do that this time as the choir has run out of money.
So me and my friend sang. She was very wobbly as she sang through the solo of the first verse. Was better when I joined her for the 2nd, 3rd and 4th verses. The choir crashed effortlessly behind us, totally out of tune by the end. It was a disaster. It will be a disaster on Saturday.
So what did I do? I let go my opportunity to sing at an important function, and went and sat at the keyboard, retreating into the back room role which an accompanist has. For the sake of the honour of the choir, and to help my friend get a grip on herself, I stepped down, denying my other self, and letting someone else have the opportunity to take the spotlight.
I don't know what I expected from the concert. It would have been nice to sing. Now I shall have to content myself with singing as I spin away at my spinning wheel because for some reason I can't sing and accompany myself at the keyboard both at the same time. But spinning and singing seem to work. And I sing for myself. Perhaps that is better. To sing for one's self rather than others, but then there is still that other side of me who yearns to have their voice heard, whether it be by singing, speaking, or writing. Oh well, will have to put that side of me to bed for the time being.
One thing, though. When I am accompanying someone, whether it be a musician or a singer, in private or in concert, my eyebrows seem to drift about my forehead and my face seems to go all sensitive and rubbery. Why does it do that?
Perhaps it is just as well, therefore, that I am off to one side so no-one can see the antics of my face as I play away at the keyboard.
I have just started a new blog, which is about how we got to be living on a smallholding in France. You can find this blog here
Wednesday, 3 October 2012
Tuesday, 2 October 2012
Lester rides the ram
'Twas an error of judgment that Jacob the ram made, a bad error of judgment. For he took it unto himself to do battle yet again with Hubs / Head Shepherd, and this time Hubs was ready, saw the battle tactics of Jacob, saw him backing up a few steps ready to get the momentum for a charge going.
It was the morning of the day. Elise (our young heifer), the goats, the sheep, the ram, they had come from the Paddock and gone into the field. Elise had lingered in the ditch they have to cross though. Sometimes she does this, lingers just before she is supposed to enter gate. This is a habit which has only just started. I suppose that now she has been with us for two weeks she is starting to find her own personality, bless her.
So Hubs was putting down little piles of maize, dotting it here and there so everyone could have a nibble. He does this to encourage the animals to follow him, to reward them, to train them into going where he goes. This is especially important for the newcomers who are still getting to know us, and not so important for the sheep who know us already. Anyway, they don't mind that they don't get hardly any maize. At the moment most of them gallop round the field on acorn hunts.
But not Jacob, who sees it as his right to do what he wants to do, barge who he wants to barge, head butt any heads which are at butting height, and generally act as boss of operations. He even has barged Lester, head butting him from the rear when Lester is not looking. Often times of late, Lester / Hubs / Head Shepherd has complained about Jacob's attitude, even threatening to recycle him into the freezer should the behaviour get worse. Of course Hubs does not mean this. After all, Jacob has been super duper efficient at fathering lambs. So what to do.......
And it came to this certain morning, the sheep were off under the oak trees, the goats and Elise were eating the maize, and Jacob was in a fury because he couldn't get the food. So he backed up, arrogant, with high head, all one bundle of male fury. He bunched himself up. Charged forward. Towards Lester he went as fast as his legs could carry him. Wham! Ah but no, the wham didn't happen because Lester side stepped away. Jacob kept going, unable to spin round in a tight circle until he had slowed down.
It was not finished, oh no. Jacob wanted that maize, wanted to show Lester who was boss. Showdown time.
He bunched himself up again. Lester was ready. Springing forward, Jacob went into his charge. "Ah but what was this that had happened. What was this thing that was on my back." For Lester had caught hold of Jacob as he charged, grabbed him by the horns, and was using those horns as bicycle handle bars as he sat on Jacob's back and rode him like a rodeo man on top of a bucking bull.
This way and that way Jacob pranced.....
And here I must stop for a moment and explain to you that I wasn't a witness to this battle, and that this is what Lester has said happened. It may, or may not, have been embellished.
......and Lester held on meanwhile. The Jacobs's back legs collapsed. Lester kept astride him but stood on his own two feet, still with his hands gripping the horns. Jacob rose up again. Off they went, Lester now riding him again. Down Jacob went, splay legged upon the ground, all effort spent. Lester went down with him, turning Jacob's head so they were eyeball to eyeball with each other. They stared each other down. Jacob wilted. Lester had won.
It must be a rough world, that of being a male, full of battle as to who will be the conqueror, whether it be with others of the same or different species.
Jacob has felt the power of Hubs and is no longer quite so arrogant. Hopefully there will be no more head butting.
No cockerel crows again this morning, and Orpy's comb has gone a very deep purple colour.
Our two male geese are getting very friendly with the newly arrived girls. This they do in the little black water trough, their proper pond not having been made yet. It is all a bit of a squash in that trough, and I feel for the girl goose who is underneath the weight of one, sometimes two, male geese. Mostly they end up in a tangle of bodies. I don't think the boys have managed to do a proper job yet. For the first time I saw a male goose's thingy as one tipped himself upside down as he went on his quest of creation. Fascinating.
It was the morning of the day. Elise (our young heifer), the goats, the sheep, the ram, they had come from the Paddock and gone into the field. Elise had lingered in the ditch they have to cross though. Sometimes she does this, lingers just before she is supposed to enter gate. This is a habit which has only just started. I suppose that now she has been with us for two weeks she is starting to find her own personality, bless her.
So Hubs was putting down little piles of maize, dotting it here and there so everyone could have a nibble. He does this to encourage the animals to follow him, to reward them, to train them into going where he goes. This is especially important for the newcomers who are still getting to know us, and not so important for the sheep who know us already. Anyway, they don't mind that they don't get hardly any maize. At the moment most of them gallop round the field on acorn hunts.
But not Jacob, who sees it as his right to do what he wants to do, barge who he wants to barge, head butt any heads which are at butting height, and generally act as boss of operations. He even has barged Lester, head butting him from the rear when Lester is not looking. Often times of late, Lester / Hubs / Head Shepherd has complained about Jacob's attitude, even threatening to recycle him into the freezer should the behaviour get worse. Of course Hubs does not mean this. After all, Jacob has been super duper efficient at fathering lambs. So what to do.......
And it came to this certain morning, the sheep were off under the oak trees, the goats and Elise were eating the maize, and Jacob was in a fury because he couldn't get the food. So he backed up, arrogant, with high head, all one bundle of male fury. He bunched himself up. Charged forward. Towards Lester he went as fast as his legs could carry him. Wham! Ah but no, the wham didn't happen because Lester side stepped away. Jacob kept going, unable to spin round in a tight circle until he had slowed down.
It was not finished, oh no. Jacob wanted that maize, wanted to show Lester who was boss. Showdown time.
He bunched himself up again. Lester was ready. Springing forward, Jacob went into his charge. "Ah but what was this that had happened. What was this thing that was on my back." For Lester had caught hold of Jacob as he charged, grabbed him by the horns, and was using those horns as bicycle handle bars as he sat on Jacob's back and rode him like a rodeo man on top of a bucking bull.
This way and that way Jacob pranced.....
And here I must stop for a moment and explain to you that I wasn't a witness to this battle, and that this is what Lester has said happened. It may, or may not, have been embellished.
......and Lester held on meanwhile. The Jacobs's back legs collapsed. Lester kept astride him but stood on his own two feet, still with his hands gripping the horns. Jacob rose up again. Off they went, Lester now riding him again. Down Jacob went, splay legged upon the ground, all effort spent. Lester went down with him, turning Jacob's head so they were eyeball to eyeball with each other. They stared each other down. Jacob wilted. Lester had won.
It must be a rough world, that of being a male, full of battle as to who will be the conqueror, whether it be with others of the same or different species.
Jacob has felt the power of Hubs and is no longer quite so arrogant. Hopefully there will be no more head butting.
No cockerel crows again this morning, and Orpy's comb has gone a very deep purple colour.
Our two male geese are getting very friendly with the newly arrived girls. This they do in the little black water trough, their proper pond not having been made yet. It is all a bit of a squash in that trough, and I feel for the girl goose who is underneath the weight of one, sometimes two, male geese. Mostly they end up in a tangle of bodies. I don't think the boys have managed to do a proper job yet. For the first time I saw a male goose's thingy as one tipped himself upside down as he went on his quest of creation. Fascinating.
Monday, 1 October 2012
The silence of Orpy
Orpy, our cockerel, doesn't crow in the mornings any more. Do they do this? Do they have times when to broadcast to the world that this is their patch is just too much effort?
I looked at his face yesterday. He seems quite tired and worn out. His comb has turned darker red and is floppy. Do cockerels get like this? Do they get physically exhausted with keeping a flock of hens happy? Of obeying the signals the hens give out when they want to be mounted, like the flirting of their rear ends in his direction, or the cosying up to him that they do. Perhaps he has had too much of making the future generation. Perhaps he does not want to climb on board a bunch of feathers any more.
He also seems to come close to us when we are in the Courtyard. Is he saying 'Please rescue me from all these girls', is that what he is trying to tell us?
And his feathers seem to be thinning, especially round his neck. And his tail is now minus much of its plume of feathers. Now all that is left are just two long fronds sticking up jollily.
Have geese got him down? Now there are five, are they doing his head in? When there were just two males they used to bully him for amusement. Often he was to be found head down, facing into a corner, with the geese messing about round his rear. And when he was trying to do his 'creating-the-future-generation' stuff with the hens, those two geese would shoo him away from his intended target. Has he got ticked off with geese, and now there are three more, is that what is making him fed up with life?
Or perhaps he is too old. Perhaps he has had his day.
So I am making a special fuss of him, just to let him know that we appreciate his efforts at chick-making. After all, there are eleven hatchlings in the ex-rabbit run, so he must still have some spark of energy left in him.
And I hope he has not heard us discussing a new cockerel, one that is more fiery, only Orpy is a very gentle cockerel and has only caused a problem once, and that was when he mounted at attack on my young three year old grandson, but Joshua was wearing a red t-shirt, which apparently can confuse cockerels into thinking that it is another cockerel come on site. Fortunately Orpy attacked Joshua's back, and Joshua did not see him do it, and Orpy was clouted away just as his two spurred feet were about to hook into Joshua's back. But we need a cockerel who has more pazzaz, but not yet. He is now mating with his daughters. This is not a good thing for the long term health of the flock. Soon it will be with his grand-daughters, if he has the energy to do so. His days are numbered, but hopefully he will manage a few more months. All the rabbits are gone now, all through myxomotosis. We wouldn't like to lose Orpy just yet.
The cycle of life can be quite fierce, and the heart strings can be frequently messed about with when there is a series of deaths, whether it be the passing of animals or humans.
C'est la vie
I looked at his face yesterday. He seems quite tired and worn out. His comb has turned darker red and is floppy. Do cockerels get like this? Do they get physically exhausted with keeping a flock of hens happy? Of obeying the signals the hens give out when they want to be mounted, like the flirting of their rear ends in his direction, or the cosying up to him that they do. Perhaps he has had too much of making the future generation. Perhaps he does not want to climb on board a bunch of feathers any more.
He also seems to come close to us when we are in the Courtyard. Is he saying 'Please rescue me from all these girls', is that what he is trying to tell us?
And his feathers seem to be thinning, especially round his neck. And his tail is now minus much of its plume of feathers. Now all that is left are just two long fronds sticking up jollily.
Have geese got him down? Now there are five, are they doing his head in? When there were just two males they used to bully him for amusement. Often he was to be found head down, facing into a corner, with the geese messing about round his rear. And when he was trying to do his 'creating-the-future-generation' stuff with the hens, those two geese would shoo him away from his intended target. Has he got ticked off with geese, and now there are three more, is that what is making him fed up with life?
Or perhaps he is too old. Perhaps he has had his day.
So I am making a special fuss of him, just to let him know that we appreciate his efforts at chick-making. After all, there are eleven hatchlings in the ex-rabbit run, so he must still have some spark of energy left in him.
And I hope he has not heard us discussing a new cockerel, one that is more fiery, only Orpy is a very gentle cockerel and has only caused a problem once, and that was when he mounted at attack on my young three year old grandson, but Joshua was wearing a red t-shirt, which apparently can confuse cockerels into thinking that it is another cockerel come on site. Fortunately Orpy attacked Joshua's back, and Joshua did not see him do it, and Orpy was clouted away just as his two spurred feet were about to hook into Joshua's back. But we need a cockerel who has more pazzaz, but not yet. He is now mating with his daughters. This is not a good thing for the long term health of the flock. Soon it will be with his grand-daughters, if he has the energy to do so. His days are numbered, but hopefully he will manage a few more months. All the rabbits are gone now, all through myxomotosis. We wouldn't like to lose Orpy just yet.
The cycle of life can be quite fierce, and the heart strings can be frequently messed about with when there is a series of deaths, whether it be the passing of animals or humans.
C'est la vie
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