Christmas babe

Though they say Christ was born at night, Christmas midnight mass has few children, so yesterday's six thirty service with carols was for our parish children. Another child was born about a week earlier, one that I'll care about, my first grandchild. Welcome, little boy. Welcome to your first Christmas, may you and your parents make a new happy family.

Singing it's a wonderful Christmas

Nearly a hundred years ago, my grandparents met when singing in their church choir. I never heard my grandmother, Mary (said Marie) singing because she died before I was born. But her sister. Bess, taught her daughter, my aunt, to sing Irish folk songs, remembering all the verses. Her brother, Charles, was once approached to train as a tenor in the States because his voice was so good. My parents enjoyed music, my father in an amateur operatic society, and at home my mother playing the piano and the family singing, but I didn't know this history of singing in the family, until decades later. Like my grandparents I joined a chapel choir accompanying on guitar. I discovered how much fun singing is, and sang for my own pleasure throughout my twenties and thirties. Sadness and pain in my mid-forties stopped me singing.

Next Stage Choir: It's a wonderful Christmas

Some years ago, on a short acting school week (blogged at Itch scratched)  I rediscovered the joy of singing, and singing with others. I looked for singing lessons locally and tried a couple of choirs, but nothing worked until in February 2018 a new local community choir, Next Stage Choir started in our town. And loved its ambiance.
I love singing. I like the enthusiastic people I sing with. I enjoy the female friendship (not so many women in my work or tae kwon do), and the projects we have done and lined up to do. Our latest project has been to produce an album of Christmas songs. Here's a photo of the CD when it was released at midnight at the start of December.
We sound good. You'll enjoy listening and perhaps sing along when you download it (Amazon, Spotify, iTunes). If you want a CD, let me know and I'll get you one.
I wish I could share this news with my family - my mother who played the piano, my aunt who sang Irish tunes, and those grandparents who passed me the passion for singing when they married nearly a hundred years ago.

Faster walkers: healthier minds

Years ago, striding up our street with my long-legged teenage son in tow, he complained that I walked quickly and wanted me to slow down. I think I've walked like that since I used to walk with his shorter but fast-legged father in my twenties, thirties and forties. I walk particularly fast in the late morning after I've had a cup of coffee. Don't dawdle in front of me when I'm shopping down the high street - I've even heard someone say as I passed, "What's the rush?"
This article "Slow walkers have slower minds" appeared in the newspapers in October, though a more positive headline is: "Faster walkers have healthier minds in the long run" (I note the editorial pun). It pleases me to read the article since it encourages me to think I have a healthy mind, whatever that means.
I have to use my mind because I'm still learning and am chuffed this year to have passed a couple of exams when I said ten years ago I wasn't taking any more. I don't need to take any more, but one theory paper was for my second Dan tae kwon do and I did well in that despite it being only and all memorisation, and the other paper was the Cisco CCNA1 where you have to understand as well as remember. Remembering quickly is so hard.
So if I walk quickly, will I remember better? Does remembering better mean you have a healthier mind. I think I need to go to the source research to find out what a healthier mind means.
The source doesn't define a healthier mind but associates speed of gait with cognitive development and aging, Slow gait in middle age went with poor physical function, which probably means you aren't very agile or fit. Also slow gait went with getting older faster, so if you don't want to age, perhaps the advice is to speed up your walking. Thirdly, it reports that slow gait went with "poorer neurocognitive functioning across multiple cognitive domains". Does that mean you don't think very well or you think more slowly? So which comes first, thinking not very well or walking slowly. Whichever! I now feel vindicated about my fast walking, hope my son's walking has sped up and remember that his late fast-legged father was a fast and highly intelligent thinker.

Never forgetting

It was Friday 23 August 1996. Il y en avait trois hommes

from the club

Never forgetting the views and the camaraderie.

from the hangar

Photos taken from web cams at La Motte du Caire http://www.cvvmc.com/index.php/fr/

Yummy food

The first pantomime I ever saw was at St Bede's secondary school in Crosby when I was perhaps seven years old.  Someone, probably the Widow Twanky, being as it was Aladdin, sang 

 "Yum, yum, yum, I love my tum, 

Yum, yum, yum, I do.

Yum, yum,yum, I love my tum

And my tum-tum loves me too!"

Or would be a plump Buttons sang it?
It's odd that I remember those words, but they must have amused me because they mean you love your food and your body loves you. Enjoyable food is good for your body. Your body enjoys it.
Recently, husband and I have decided to have lunch once a week at a local wine bar. The menu includes:

• Smoked salmon and lemon risotto
• Grilled asparagus, poached egg and pesto
• Lamb kofta, tzatziki, warmed pita bread
• House salad, (honey, fig & goats’ cheese)
• BLT

These are all menus that I'd happily make at home. They avoid beef, or cow protein, milk and sugar, though figs can be sweet. Fresh figs are yummy and they'll be in season soon, so I'm encouraging husband to look out for them when he goes shopping.
The other places I get ideas for yummy recipes are the organic vegetable delivery services I use. They not only send you veg and fruit, but also recipe boxes, boxes that hold all the ingredients you need to prepare a meal. For example, last week we did haddock with oregano and olives. Now I know how to do it, I'll repeat it using our own oregano from the garden. More adventurous recipes for us include,

• summer miso and tofu broth (not sure I like tofu)
• lamb madras with homemade flatbreads(I'm not making those again!)
• Persian stuffed Portobellos (a waste of life)
• Thai chicken rice bowl
• Thai green chicken curry (Yummy and coconut is nice. Not sure how I'd make a the Tai green curry paste again though)
• Indian broccoli rice (like Goldilock's porridge, just right)
• broccoli and jasmine fried rice
• butternut squash and chickpea curry
• roast aloo gobi and chickpea salad
• Spanish chickpea stew (needs a spice pot with something unknown)
• aubergine & chickpeas (plenty of tins of chickpeas in the pantry)
• spiced cauliflower and lentils (news is that our hot summer killed off the caulis this year)
• courgette, halloumi and red wine lentils
• Lentils & tomatoes with kale and egg (will do again with our hens' eggs)
• curried broccoli quinoa (again served with eggs)
• asparagus, goat's cheese and lemon risotto 

It is amazing how yummy soft goat's cheese is. Last weekend the newspaper had a salad recipe to use a glut of tomatoes with soft goat's cheese and melons. Yummy, yummy, yummy. I love my tummy.

Father's day and a father's day

The Sunday in June that is Father's day is also near to dead husband's birthday.
Here's a photo I took of him very soon after we met. It's on the cliffs near Hastings somewhere. One weekend he would come visit me and another weekend I'd go up to his, and we'd go gliding, usually staying in a tent somewhere, even in November. When he came to Hastings we would go out walking, meet my work colleagues, and even get to the occasional party, though parties were more frequent once we lived in Hampshire.

The photo is a bit of a mess because we had it so long and without a frame for it, and our cats, Hobbledy and Pixie, had a chew and a scratch at it.
Years later, his brother returned me a copy I'd given him in the late 1970s, a pristine clean copy, but I never made a scan of that because this is the one I had on the family web site for years, since the earlier 2000s. I published it with a link under it to a private wiki I had created of his life, school, university, hobbies. but I never developed that wiki much and the family web site has gone now so here he is again. If you want to know about him, then google for Oxford University quadraphonics.

In 2014, my father was still around for Father's Day despite his recent heart attack. D.G. I still had one of my favourite men.

Warm spring, not

As we walked out of the car park yesterday evening to rehearsal, fellow choir member commented on the cold when it had been so warm over Easter. Easter was lovely. We had four days of deliciously warm weather: a day with a barbecue, a day sitting outside Rumsey's drinking coffee and tasting chocolates in the sun, a walk over the hills. 

Our Canadian guests tasted the warmth of an early English summer. Now they've returned to the icy blasts of Ontario, still with a sliver of snow. But here too is now chilly again. Hence my fellow choir member's comment as she wrapped her cardie round her neck. Silly old weather.

Spring smells

Don't you like spring? The clematis armandii at dusk, as the blackbirds sing and my hens settle for sleep, scents the air as strong as honeysuckle.
Spring beckons. Tadpoles have grown from the spawn. All is well.
Even our kitchen looks spring like as it emerges in cream and green from the dust of the last few weeks.

House upheaval

Nearly degutted kitchen

Last week was traumatic. Not only did I have operations on both eyes because of retinal tears, but the builders arrived to gut our kitchen in preparation for our new one.
This meant moving contents of kitchen cupboards into... somewhere else. So now we ask, "where did we put them?" "I was looking for a bit of mustard..." "Do you know where I can find a tea towel?" "Where are the sprinkly things?" (aka spices).
Poor husband was traumatised by this chaos. He'd planned to bake a cake on the Friday before his train Risex exhibition, but with two builders, two plumbers and an electrician wandering about the kitchen, noise from drills or saws, old plaster and paint falling off the ceiling, no cupboards, water or electricity sometimes going off, dust sheets or dust over everything, and where are the scales? Er? no! No cake this year.
I hope the Risex visitors aren't traumatised by lack of cake.

Some contents of some cupboards

Choir recording project

Angel studios welcomes NSC

Our choir made a recording at Angel Studios, London. Most of us had never been in a recording studio before, never recorded before, and indeed, our local choir didn't exist a year ago.
The building looks old from the outside, but inside you have no natural light, no idea what’s happening outside and most of the inside is sound proofed, padded and stripped of its originality. You can still see character in the stair banisters, and the old gas fire at the end of the ladies’ loo. We were about 80 people to fit in our studio, of which there are at least three.

We recorded only six songs, about 20 minutes worth, but those took all day, doing takes and retakes, as well as the director reminding us of parts or to be quiet, and freeze at the end of a take, not claim, cough or shuffle. We finished with a minute to spare at one minute to six, time enough to take some more photos of the choir to go with the CD.

A few of us stayed after recording to watch the mixing. I walked into the mixing lab as they were playing one of our songs and was stunned to hear what we sound like. You usually hear only your own part, concentrate on that and can't hear the blend. We're good!
The technology was fascinatingly powerful; look at this speaker on the wall. It's as big as quadraphonic speakers, so you can imagine the quality of sound that it produces..

Speaker

Mixer board with two choir acolytes 

Look out for the Next Stage Choirs Christmas recording in the autumn. This is going to be amazing.

Prickly new car

Why do Citroen call their car a Cactus?
It should fit better in my garage than my old car: http://ejh2.blogspot.com/2009/12/tight-squeeze.html
Got a new car. It's all right. It's bigger than I need now I have neither children nor octogenarians to transport.; I'm not the hugged (aka squeezed) generation any more