Speed Blog

Shades of Blue - offstage position

I haven’t blogged for some time. It’s been busy and I’ve started three blog posts but haven’t had time to finish them. So this morning I thought I’d try something new - speed blogging! Sounds like some kind of dodgy online challenge doesn’t it? My longer blog posts don’t take too much time to write and they can be spread out over a few days, or weeks as is the case at the moment. What does take time is the photos and editing, which can go on for a few days after publishing a post.

Blogging can be a great way to attract traffic to a website and to please that search engine, and I love written expression. It feels like a safer way for me to communicate as a lot of the time I can’t articulate my thoughts into sentences fast enough. I used to avoid saying what was on my mind but blogging has taught me to better express myself.

This week is one of the busiest so far this year and is the polar opposite of how my life was a year ago. Tonight I’m playing offstage harp for Opera North’s Tosca in Leeds, so I leave at 4pm, play around 2 minutes worth of music and I get home just before 10. It seems crazy that that minute moment of music involves so much time and effort. Tomorrow is a lunchtime chamber music recital at St Paul’s at Huddersfield University followed by a Q&A session around being an orchestral musician, chamber musician and freelancer. It will be an interesting challenge to push myself out of my comfort zone. I’m not a natural public speaker (see above) and I’ve even volunteered to introduce our last piece, Pastorales de Noël by Jolivet. Then I can come home and be ill for an hour as I’ve got a cold, and we get into preparation for Friday, which is the really big one this week - playing the pit part in Tosca.

Debut

In the pit this Friday night

As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ve always wanted to play Tosca and I set an intention not so long ago to do that. Here we are, the moment has finally come. Saturday and Sunday I get to cover Merry Widow by Lehár, that’s less stressful as I did it when I was in Cape Town and had a decent amount of rehearsal on it. I was hoping for a quiet day off Monday but I might have a rehearsal now. That’s as far as I can go in my head without it imploding.

Warming up

Enjoying a few precious moments with my harp before the shoot

It’s great to be busy. If I could change one thing, it would be the amount of practice time - I would like to quadruple that! My phone stopwatch is ticking and I need to add photos and edit this. I’ve also vowed not to revisit this post and tweak it - my next challenge is learning to let go.

Selling Myself - Good Things Happen in Threes

The first thing you’ll notice about the photos in this post is the quality. That’s because I didn’t take them! Like most introverts, self promotion doesn’t come easily. I love playing the harp and most things about my amazing instrument fascinate me, but the business aspect of my job is not one of my strongest points. It’s Monday morning and as I sat looking through my lists and checking my website and my social media, well, the only social medium I use, I realised that I’ve got about an hour most mornings this week to catch up on one of my favourite things, a bit of writing. It’s been a full on hectic fortnight interspersed with bouts of sporadic sleep and there’s been a delicious abundance of notes on my music stand and, thankfully, there still is.

The main project was my video and photo shoot. I had my trusted creative team on board, photographer John Steel and the indefinable Gareth Boot. John is a fabulous photographer who I first met at a wedding fayre at Durker Roods Hotel in our village in 2015. He asked if he could take my photo and despite thinking he was a bit odd, I was delighted with the artistic result he came up with of me playing in the hotel reception area. His work stood out. There was something special about it, and I loved how he made my harp look. There’s definitely something about me and chandeliers.

Just over a year ago, I received some social media training with Esther Orridge at Social Progress in Honley. She put me back in touch with John and he made my publicity shots on top of the local moor an experience that was fun and occasionally too exciting. I found out that he isn’t odd, he’s just quirky and introverted, a bit like me. Picture John with all his photography gear, and me in a 1960’s Berketex heavy velvet dress (£25 from the local antiques shop), winter coat and walking boots trying to find even ground where it was safe to balance my harp in the August evening chill. My harp trolley was useless. He lost his shoe in a peaty bog trying to find the ideal purple heathery ground. We both agreed to try somewhere else, which resulted in some unique breathtaking shots with my harp and a paradisiac sunset.

Magical Moorland

August evening shoot just up the road. Passers by slowed down and turned their heads at the sight of spotlights and a harp

Compromise doesn’t sit well with John - he questioned my sense of adventure when I suggested doing the shoot from the safety of the car park. I’m glad he did.

I could feel his disappointment when I refused to take my harp outside at Wortley Hall on the 10th of the 9th, 2018 - the sky was ideal for outdoor photography but it was a cool damp day and I had nightmarish visions of it being engulfed in the murky water of the fountain or the two of us slowly sinking to the sombre depths of the nearby pond. Maybe next time if it’s warmer. Not the water shots, obviously. I think the results of our shoot for my website and social medium are pretty cool to say the least. It took place in the appropriately named National Association of Women room, a calming tranquil room tucked away at the back of the hotel, as well as the stunning Foundry Dining Room. I’m a huge fan of John’s work - his creative imaginative style and his attention to detail are outstanding and his editing is seamless. There’s a vivid realness to his images and they ooze life and emotion. When he’s not behind his camera or at his computer, or even on his skateboard, he’s devoted to his two daughters and I love emailing him and getting his out of office reply telling me he’s spending time with his little ones. My one disappointment is that I can’t show you every single one of his fabulous shots here.

Straight on Insta?

My expression reflects exactly how I feel about social media

First came the bit I was really dreading - the video shoot starting at 9am with three hand claps (see photos below). I’d experimented with video at Easter with my close friend Sali and came to the conclusion that the only way to do video was with friends and people I felt comfortable with. Cue another close friend, Gareth Boot, a man with a fervent sense of curiosity and a mind blowing interest in everything, especially technology. I met Gareth thanks to John when I was in quite a dark despondent place in my life a year ago. I was trying to find someone to help breathe life into my old website which I’d never had updated, and after meeting a few website designers, I had a brief phone conversation with Mr Boot. Maybe it’s his background in sales or perhaps his reassuringly broad Yorkshire accent, but I knew immediately he was the right person to help me get my website and my business up to date. After his initial design and the addition of John’s striking photos, I had a website I was proud of which reflected my personality and showcased the services I provided, with the additional bonus of being able to update it myself.

Wisdom and learning

The initial discomfort of seeing myself in action

When I met Gareth, nothing seemed to be going well in my life and with very little work, I was struggling to find any motivation to just get up in the morning. With his firm but fair support and using his CARE system (he’s written a book called TAKING CARE OF YOURSELF - The Four Non-negotiables of Achievement, described as “a personal development book for people who don’t read personal development books”), I started to turn my life around, stopping smoking last December and subsequently giving booze the finger a month later. I haven’t smoked or had a drink since and I’m exercising regularly for the first time in my life so he’s doing something right. Even though things aren’t quite bouncing yet, my outlook on life is significantly rosier than it was 12 months ago. Armed with his knack and penchant for technology, his dogged perfectionism and his creative passion, I knew GB would be the right man for the task.

I had some sound clips recorded a year ago which helped with the process of planning the videoclips. I limited myself to 3 non stop takes of each selected excerpt, a good way of managing my niggling perfectionism. I chose 3 outfits reflecting different aspects of my performance work as well as the styles of the music I played and my personality. I asked if I could use the NAW room at Wortley Hall as I once spent a long break during a wedding in there and spent an hour in utter peace and quiet, so I was almost certain there would be no noise pollution and that we could work undisturbed. Being in a room that represented the suffragette movement also felt significant in this process of finding and owning my voice again and expressing it, both behind my harp and without the comforting reassurance of its towering protection. It was a very positive experience and as you can see, there was quite a lot of laughter to accompany the serious professionalism.

You can check out John Steel’s fabulous images on this website and at johnsteelphotography.com The results of my video shoot with Gareth Boot are on the See Hear page, and you can find out more about Gareth at garethboot.com I have a YouTube channel - Rhian Evans Harpist. I also have a Facebook page, imaginatively called Rhian Evans Harpist. I am incredibly grateful to Laurie and all the staff at Wortley Hall for their assistance and support and for being willing to open up such a stunning weighty venue for my project. Sincere thanks to the couple at the hotel who were curious about what John and I were up to in the dining room with my huge harp. They happily engaged in conversation with me, resulting in some relaxed looking natural shots. The posed ones looked, well, posed.

Clapping

There was this thing where he had to clap three times to sync the sound - obviously nobody else could get a clap in edgeways

Like this?

The art of clapping

Showing us how it’s done

Opinionated

Gareth isn’t the only one who enjoys expressing himself

Exasperation

I think I won him round in the end

Don’t give up your day job GB

Like I said, he’s interested in everything

Edinburgh International Festival

                                       Siegfried - 8/8/18

I'm just back from a couple of days in Scotland performing with the Hallé at the Edinburgh International Festival.  I had my first experience of this iconic event last Summer when I was one of six harpists involved in a concert performance of Berlioz's sublime operatic masterpiece The Damnation of Faust given by the same orchestra under their inspirational music director Sir Mark Elder.  It was a memorable performance with some spectacular singing.  Sir Mark has a knack for sourcing outstanding vocal produce and this year, Siegfried was no exception.  After a stonking show in June, our memories rejigged from a rehearsal in Manchester, my musical exodus started on Monday afternoon when I drove up to Carlisle after the morning session.  With a 2.30 rehearsal on Tuesday afternoon at the beautiful Usher Hall in the heart of the city, and in light of having to "take" that motorway again, I booked a night at a hotel to minimise the risk of arriving late.  

The good, the bad and the downright ugly

I got to my car just before it got towed.  Luckily for me, Scottish traffic wardens are remarkably human and humane - it was just a caution, and still only £30 if I got stung, maybe cheaper than parking?  No wonder I need dark delights and I can safely say these prunes get 9 out of 10

Last year's experience was made slightly traumatic when I couldn't find parking by the hall after unloading my harp and I struggled to negotiate the narrow downward spiral of the claustrophobic multi storey car park through tears of frustration despite arriving very early for a sectional rehearsal with the man himself.  Not this year.  Oh no Edinburgh, I was onto you.  Being early and well tuned and prepared is a must in a scenario involving five other harpists and a knight.  There was no sectional this time, and despite a tight get in window (it busily boasts the status of international festival with good reason), I was on time, rested, fed and caffeinated.

The luxury of driving

means I can pack quite a lot of home comforts including my Pilates mat and bands and 2 days worth of food.  And my cherished pillow

My heart plummeted when I arrived at my halfway hotel.  Despite requesting a ground floor room when I booked, I was on the first floor with no lift.  The helpful apologetic receptionist ran me through my options - I was early enough to be moved to a ground floor room.  Anxious at the thought of being separated from my harp for all of 12 hours, plan A was ditched after I saw the disused leisure centre that had enjoyed a previous life as an important hub within the brand consistent hotel.  There was a pool!  It looked enticing in its state of disrepair.  I was told there was also a sauna and steam room.  Reception and I agreed that it could be the Tebay of UK hotels with a travellers' spa but as is often the case with dream projects, it's complicated.  I'm not sure if it's the thought that it might have been humid in there, or if it was a bit of jealousy at imagining Kite having a better time than me plunging pedals first into cool water followed by a session sweating it off swathed in nothing but a towel, but I couldn't bring myself to abandon her even though it seemed secure.  Besides I like sleeping with my harp occasionally.  She's surprisingly quiet and low maintenance - she'd only inaudibly popped her top G by the time we got to Edinburgh.

My scenic drive up from Carlisle through the imaginatively named villages of Carlops and Dolphinton kept my mind from boredom and was uneventful.  I passed Manor Garage which I managed to get my car to when the exhaust broke on that very same stretch of road a few years back on my way to work in the big city.  They miraculously fixed it while I waited and I was on time for the seating rehearsal.  Needless to say, I pulled over as soon as I could to book its service for next week.  My sister suffered the misfortune of a blown engine recently after forgetting to check the oil.  I'm paranoid about checking my tyres, and I can now add oil to my list of concerns.

Dicky!

showing off his jauntily creative side with a clever selfie angle.  People - the brighter side of touring.  

After a non stop busy day, my body a bit achy and in the mood for a quiet night in, I headed away from the festival bustle to the nearest pub for a slap up dinner.  I felt like part of the crowd ordering their stiffest Virgin Bloody Mary and coughed reassuringly at the kick of heat to the back of my throat.  My tastebuds were tantalisingly teased and tickled by salt and pepper squid and Kaarage chicken and I tried Katsu sauce and mooli for the first time.  9 out of 10 for the food, and being on my own wasn't an issue either.  The waitress and I were soon creased with belly laughs as we compared notes on our sugar addictions.  An attractive svelte European blessed with a stunning sparkly smile and a personality to match her looks, her poison was a cookie, lots of them by the sounds of it.  Each to their own.  If you're in Edinburgh and want some excellent food away from the madding crowds, I can recommend the Salisbury Arms very highly - great service and no funny looks for dining solo.

Narrow escape

After 2 delicious starters including the delightfully named Kaarage chicken in a nice pub by the halls, the waitress insisted on showing me the dessert menu.  Was she trying to kill me?  I narrowed it down to three and didn't have any.  They didn't open until midday so I definitely couldn't go back and have them for breakfast

The 20 minute rehearsal and subsequent 5.5 hour performance flew past, well it would as we harps were only in Acts 1 and 3.  I felt the urge to be social but, having had a scant 4 hours' sleep, the urge to honour an appointment in my car for a snooze was stronger, and I made my polite excuses not to join my harp colleagues for dinner.  Fortunately I woke up in time to eat my healthy chicken and kale rainbow salad, a workout for my mouth taking the best part of twenty minutes, that's how much fibre was packed into that plastic container.  Can you imagine going all the way up to Edinburgh and missing Act 3?

Baby tubas

My turn to get creative with those horns.  Most things look artistic through harp strings

There was a really good energy in the hall, a Festival vibe if ever I felt one, and I relished people watching when I wasn't engrossed in the indulgent magnitude and intimacy of Wagner's epic music.  The rapt expressions I glimpsed in the audience reflected the quality of the pared down production and world class singing.  Christine Goerke made for a beautiful bellowing Brünnhilde filling the hall with her powerful soprano, and my guess is she must have sung that role quite a few times - how else could she have embraced the challenge of such terse rehearsal and given a display of vocal wizardry with grace, ease and a warm generosity that captivated our audience?  Simon O'Neill was as good as he was back in June in Manchester, and I noticed he occasionally referred to an iPad, a sign of the times.  A hearty robust rambunctious Siegfried with the stamina of an ox, it's a role that suits him perfectly. The rest of the cast, conductor and orchestra were on top form too, playing with endurance, vibrant passion and élan.  A special mention goes to the Woodbird's gold sequinned white denim jacket ornate with eye catching sparkles that would have hypnotised a magpie.  I shook my head with disbelief several times at the sheer beauty of what my ears often couldn't register.  Some truly outstanding musicianship took place that night.

Comforting symmetry

My view when I turned around in Usher Hall.  There were quite a few Wagner fans sitting in those cushionless classroom pews for around 4 hours.  I considered myself heroic for lasting an hour and a half on a piano stool in Act 1

No sooner than you could say Siegfried, it was time to up sticks with the controlled dash that packing a huge orchestra into a truck and two coaches entails, and before I knew it, I was on the road again.  Unwilling to negotiate another round of parking, lifts and corridors only to decamp again a few hours later and lose a whole day travelling, I didn't spend a second night in halls.  

Right under Arthur's Seat

Great name, location and breakfast.  Bloody minded canteen attendant

Best coffee in Edinburgh

My best efforts couldn't get me a decent coffee on campus at 7am.  I got some exercise walking to the local shop where I was warmly served my hand stirred brew in my travel mug by lovely Ali shivering in front of his fridges 

Right under my nose

The Commonwealth Pool, closed until 14 August, so no early morning swimming session

Having carefully planned my route the old school way and avoiding the long drive involving a ferry crossing to Ireland which my satnav humorously initially suggested, I finally got some sense from it and went down the East side of the country, not quite the coastal route and I had the roads to myself as I crossed the rivers of Tyne, Tweed and Blackadder.  No kidding.  Google it.  After just over an hour I started drifting even though I was fuelled by an energy drink.  Sensing danger, I blearily parked up in Coldstream and tried to get in the zone for a quick nap.  Fifteen minutes later I set off again only to be overcome by another strong bout of insomnia after half an hour.  This time I stopped in a lay-by in deepest darkest who knows where.  I hacked away at my imagination's most ghastly ghouls and zombies crawling up the bonnet of my car to rudely peer in at my slumber before eventually getting a decent amount of shuteye in the tranquil pitch black setting.  That got me just past Newcastle with greater ease but I started to drift again. Back in civilisation, I stopped at the services and had a good hour of deep sleep under my blanket supported by the comfort of my pillow.  If you've never slept with a harp in the back of your car, I can tell you it's quite an art to cosy up.  A few spine and leg stretches in the facilities helped get my circulation going again and there's something to be said for 24 hour services and the friendliness of the people who make them happen.  Maybe they get extra money for doing the early shift.  Probably not, but they should.

First breakfast

taken at 4.29 am and washed down with a strong flat white, it kept me tapping my feet and gently headbanging intentionally to Ben Folds down the A1

Boosted by even more caffeine, off I went accompanied by the lively strains of Ben Folds.  A fabulous pianist, lyricist, vocalist and tunesmith, I can't recommend Best Imitation of Myself strongly enough as a great soundtrack for a long drive.  His songs are quite literally food for thought.  Check out Philosophy below which is worth watching for all of almost 6 minutes if only for his witty repartee with Jools:

I wouldn't want to tune his pianos.  With too many catchy numbers to list here, there's also Gracie, a most poignant father/daughter tribute.  Rockin' the Suburbs is a tongue in cheek number with a few swear words thrown in for good measure.  I was The Luckiest (another BFF classic beauty) when I had the good fortune to be part of the orchestra for a Ben Folds concert in Bristol a few years back.  A previously unknown entity, I was immediately hooked by his dazzling dexterity as he more often than not stood up to play his beloved piano.  His professionalism and the energy of his performance resonated with me as well as his engagement with his loyal audience - he  held them in the palm of his talented hands as they sang along with us.  Ben came to France with me when I drove there and back a couple of years ago so he's really made the distance and I know I can count on him for future journeys.  Rufus is overdue an airing, though the track for my next long car trip will probably involve some work related Puccini - I love combining business and pleasure.

At 4.29 the cones were just being lifted after they'd closed part of the A1.  A near miss.  At 5.17 I passed Temple Newsam and knew I was on the home stretch.  It was a doddle from there.  Slightly jet-lagged and hyperactively exhausted from my Scottish sojourn, I realised that almost all I've written about in this post is driving and car related.  Unfortunately it goes with the territory.  The time I spend with my harp actually enjoying my music is all too rare these days and I intend to change that during the next few months.  A promise I made myself in Scotland was a week off, which is swiftly dwindling to a few days as more distractions start flooding in, some of them welcome, others less so.  One of the biggest challenges we freelancers face is time management, and planning holidays is something I need to learn to incorporate into my life.  So if it's silence from me for a few days, I apologise but I have to create some breathing space.  Another promise is to dip my toes in sea and sand.  I always keep my promises.

Balancing act

All six of us closet sugar fiends, we were each offered a gift by Principal Harp Marie from the most amazing macaroon shop in the city, Madame Macaron.  Sugared out from the 3 I oohed over after lunch (pistachio, beautiful blue lavender without a hint of Zoflora, and peanut butter and chocolate), I saved mine for my post dinner ritual on Thursday night.  It tasted even better garnished and for travelling all the way from Scotland

Detox

In an attempt to manage my anxiety, I'm going coldish turkey next week.  If it helps, where can I get decaf coffee beans?

Welcome home!  The sky at 6.23 on the morning of my return to Yorkshire.

A beautiful heroine

Missing from this week's performance - I would have loved to see her and she would have LOVED Siegfried!  We shared the same inspirational teacher, mentor and close friend and like minded ally, Eira

A More Solemn Note

Thursday was a busy day.  I had two jobs on, a funeral reception at noon and La Bohème in the evening.  It was one of the hottest days of an exceptionally hot summer.  With a to do list the length of my leg, I got myself into a bit of a state the night before.  On Tuesday I heard of the cruelly untimely death of a lovely colleague who was only in her thirties, a car incident.  My head won't quite deal with it, it's too close to home.  I keep seeing her beautiful face and laughing eyes.  A true professional and a brightly quirky ray of sunshine, she had recently met a man and she seemed very happy.  It has tainted my week and beyond with an unshakeable sorrow.  I was meant to be working with her the week after next.

Dread full sight

Will it take 24 minutes or 24 hours?

I am often told I leave ridiculously early for work.  Setting off at 7.30 to make a journey that should take an hour and forty, I was optimistic that I'd arrive at my coastal destination and maybe even have time for a stroll on the beach and a toe dip in the sea before starting to play at midday.  It was the day the lorry crashed into the bridge on the M6.  I arrived at the hotel a hot bothered heap just after 1, my record of over thirty years of never being late for work tarnished by a motorway.  The M6 and M62 are at the top of my list of least favourite motorways (I don't think I have a favourite, not in this country anyway), and in 2010 I pranged my car on the latter on my way to Leeds for the opening night of La Bohème.  Maybe there's something about me and Puccini operas.  I still got there with time to spare though.

I wish I'd had time to take in the simple elegant beauty of the art deco hotel where the funeral reception was being held.  I had been a prisoner of the unnatural air-conned ambience of my hot cramped sardine tin car for the worst part of 6 hours.  My relief was immense at the contrast between this and the cool dark interior of the lobby and the sea views presented in all their glory through the dizzyingly high glass walls.  The pure candour of potent lilies placed on plinths was refreshing.  There was a giddy feel of the Great Gatsby about everything.  

Death has been an underlying theme this week.  It's something we avoid thinking about and it can become a preoccupation.  Take La Bohème, the opera I've been working on.  It whisks you through a whirlwind of emotions that change from exuberant joy to tragedy in an instant and of course, Mimi dies at the end.  One of the most popular operas of all time, it's clear that its theme and characters are relevant and resonate with most people.  Bohème always brings up thoughts of my Dad and his premature death when I was 27.  A loyal member of the town choir in his retirement and with a love and passion for music to rival my own, he would have been blown away by Puccini.  How many conversations I've wished to have with him, and how our relationship would have grown with our mutual maturity.  There is regret but that's just how it is.  In the brief time I spent at the funeral do on Thursday, I heard the popping of corks and saw people enjoying their canapés, the expression in their eyes covert, mysteriously shaded by their sunglasses.  There isn't just sorrow at a funeral, thankfully it's a celebration of a person's life and how much richness they brought to ours.  The nostalgia was tangible.

Coin toss

The clock was ticking - where was I?

It's nearly my birthday and nowadays they're more a time for reflection as well as looking forward.  As I review my year and think back to where I was twelve months ago, five, ten, twenty years ago, I think and feel it's ok to be where I am now.  I often feel I'm in a limbo state, neither here nor there, and learning to live with that is where my challenge lies.  Like driving, there's a feeling of urgency about getting somewhere instead of just saying what the **** and embracing the crap, and recognising the magic moments.  Sometimes I can't see them unless they grab me firmly and smack me in the face.  Take the funeral for example.  All I could see on Thursday was the disappointment at letting people down and the stress of such a horrendous journey.  Now, with a step back, a day off and some breathing space, I remember the staff who were calmly efficient and helpful, and the daughter of the deceased who was sympathetic and understanding and gave me a hug when I arrived with my flustered apologies while my harp was roasting away in the car.  Then there's the lady who complimented me on my crazy trousers and another lady who thanked me for my music.  An extra special mention goes to the hotel guest who offered to help me move my harp and gave me a hug after we had both tried to work out an alternative route to the alternative route that lay snaking menacingly ahead of me.  

A major magic moment turned out to be the route I eventually took through the Forest of Bowland, a damn finer sight than the miserable offerings of that unmentionable motorway.  After driving like I haven't for about ten years, I allowed my focus to shift to the breathtaking goosebump views that awaited after the long zig-zag climb up steep swirling B-roads in my heavily laden car.  Driving through quaint deserted picture book villages with their immaculate askew architecture and lifestyle magazine cottage gardens made me vow to return for a day trip on a road less travelled.  I apologised for disturbing the peace as I slowed through the village.

Unforeseen events like this also bring the worst out in people.  Take the man in the red prestige car who decided it was a good idea to drive within touching distance of mine as we went winding our way along the canopied backroads on the scenic route.  At a safe convenient moment I decelerated and indicated for him to pass.  He honked angrily at me as he zoomed past in his hurry to get to his destination.  I admit to a certain smugness while driving a safe distance behind him as I caught up to the slow moving queue we had now both joined which continued for the next 10 miles.  Who knows?  Maybe he was rushing to hospital?  He certainly risked lives and limbs.  I saw him negotiate a junction by crossing in front of another moving car with milliseconds to spare.  From this point, having shouted and sobbed myself almost hoarse, I felt a sense of acceptance fall over me.  I had phoned the opera fixer and discussed possible options and I was doing everything within my means to get there safely in time.  I stopped looking at the clock and the Satnav timer.  Even if I just made it for the second half, I was determined I'd get there.  I did.  With 23 minutes to spare.  I tuned, got changed, put on some lipstick, got harp 2 out of the hot car to the cooler backstage area and blocked everything out as I got on with Puccini.  Thank god for music!

HQ

Sight of relief

Clonter Opera

Clonter

Rose Garden

I'm enjoying a fantastic busy fortnight working at Clonter Opera in deepest darkest sunniest Cheshire.  I remember hearing the name Clonter with some fascination as an undergraduate student at the RNCM and I do have a strong sense of déjà-vu, although my memory won't stretch quite that far back.  Hailed by some as the Glyndebourne of the North, Clonter is a fantastic endeavour for singers seeking to gain experience of some of the core operatic repertoire and it boasts strong links with the RNCM.  If it wasn't for the signage you would be forgiven for mistaking Clonter for just another Cheshire dairy farm.  My drive to work past droves of cows lolling along their well-hooved path from pasture to parlour with bovine discipline is proof of the terrain.  In effect, it is an opera theatre in a barn.  How cool is that?  You can find out more about Clonter's fascinating creator Jeffery Lockett and his brainchild by copying this into your browser: https://www.clonter.org/about-clonter/jeffery-lockett/

Workplace welcome

The tree lined driveway and its neighbouring maize fields.  Not a parking meter in sight

I arrived bright and early last Saturday morning and had a quick car catnap in the quietest car park you could ever imagine before polishing off my breakfast, having been warmly greeted by Chief Executive Isabella and her faithful companion Cedar the spaniel who, in her tenth year, seems to be something of a Clonter legend.  Isabella is a legend in her own right of course.   One of three Lockett daughters, she ensures the smooth running of the Clonter Farm Music Trust along with her siblings.  I unloaded my harp after being shown the best route into the pit (what, no lift?!) and was helped by another stalwart Clonter personage who goes more than the extra mile to ease all things backstage, the lovely Mel.  A natural multitasker, she assumes her role as Production Manager and Stage Manager with the greatest of ease, and I remember her from my more recent RNCM postgrad days.  As my colleagues arrived, I felt reassured to see some familiar faces and the new ones proved very friendly - there's a genuine sense of camaraderie in the pit.

With three consecutive six hour rehearsal days kicking off at 10am, and to break down the driving, I stayed over one night at one of the nicest most peaceful hotels I've ever experienced!  I slept like one of the trunks outside my window.  Everything about Cheshire screams bucolic idyll.

Room with a view

over woodland and a stream

In keeping with my healthy eating plan, I took my own food most days but on Sunday night, I enjoyed the luxury of a naughty chocolatey indulgence.  I'm sure I play better when I've had my cocoa fix:

Sunday

Naughtily virtuous supper treat, it was really good and luckily still fresh

I've played in quite a few productions of La Bohème and this is an interesting experience in that it's the chamber version scored for just thirteen lucky players.  Unsure what to expect, I wasn't disappointed - the luscious plenitude and delicate intimacy of Puccini's delicious timeless score remains the feast it was the first time I savoured it some twenty years ago.   

Vibrato!

First page of my well thumbed beloved Bohème part

I'm one of the luckiest - some of my colleagues have never played Bohème before and devoid of a bigger section of the same instrument playing the same part, I marvel at their skill in managing the negotiation of such a difficult score overflowing with vertiginously tricky corners that just has to be known by heart.  How would you explain the broad spacious freedom that is key to Puccini's music?  Performing with guts, gusto and increasing swagger, the band sounds impressive in spite of, or possibly due to its reduced forces.  It feels great to be unofficially part of a section and I'm perched next to the cello with bass behind just to my left and violins directly in front, and the woodwinds and percussion are facing us on the opposite side for a change.  It works.  I'm so used to hearing the winds that it's great to hear the string parts with such clarity.  That's one of the best things about a lengthier project like this.  We've already had 18 hours rehearsal and both dress rehearsal and opening night are now behind us.  It's been way too long since I relished the indulgence of a long sequence of rehearsals - every time I get into that pit I hear something new as I start to feel more relaxed about my part in the whole process.  I love that, when I get to that stage where I feel so comfortable with it.  I'm not quite there yet and I will always have a bit of practice to do to deepen my knowledge of and refamiliarise myself with a part that is so well written that it falls easily and comfortably under the feet and fingers.  It's like meeting up with an intimate old friend again after quite a few years.  I'm probably the oldest one in the pit except our seasoned conductor, Clive.  He has over forty performances of Bohème under his belt and thus a very clear idea of what he wants.  In guiding the full voiced exceptionally talented budding cast past the pitfalls of what can be a treacherous piece, he can be a hard task master in what is clearly a beloved work.  He certainly kept us on our toes in rehearsal!

Intimate

Great to be beside the woodburning stove again

I do have a very soft spot for opera and one of the things I enjoy most is walking in through the backstage area past an enviable array of intriguing props and equipment.  Cue Mel and her team.  The oysters look toxically tasty and there will be snow in July.  As for the beverages, I'm not giving anything away.  Designer Grace Venning has conceived an imaginative atmospheric sepia hued traditional set and costumes and there's an intoxicating Frenchness about the entire production that leaves me with a feeling of peering into the shared accommodation of impoverished students in the gods of Parisian gables with their sublime voices and warm hearts as their only riches.   The set transforms miraculously into the breezy atmosphere of Café Momus for Act 2.  Jiggling old school light bulbs suspended from what look like a very basic piñata dangling from the ceiling remind me of the importance of lighting and I'm amazed at what can be achieved on what must be a shoestring budget by operatic standards with the clever creative skill of continental lighting designer Petr Vocka.  It's difficult to tear my eyes from the stage which I can see very clearly, and that brings me to the other reason I love Puccini operas - I rarely put my harp down.  He uses the harp with such variety of colour and precision that it's always a privilege to be offered a chance to perform in any of his masterpieces.  Thanks to the genius of Puccini's "verismo", there shouldn't be a dry eye in the house.      

At Clonter, the ambience is easily intimate and there's a convivial family feel to everything, from the homely meals offered on rehearsal days featuring the most amazing sausage roll I ever tasted to the mouth watering cakes I managed to resist until Wednesday night.  It was the dress rehearsal and we were all warmly invited to supper afterwards.  I had some delicious potatoes and a cheeky slice of baguette, not a continental prop I hasten to add.  And I succumbed to the heavenly fruity meringue, but not the freely flowing wine, which I was told was excellent.  Despite elegantly taking my leave Cinderella style to face my long drive home, it was really good to go and get to know my pit, onstage and offstage colleagues a bit better and find out more about this amazing place.  

Gateway

to pool nirvana

Oh, and I did it, my long awaited pool dive.  I managed to contain my exuberant enthusiasm until day two when we had a longer lunch break.  It didn't disappoint.  I tried to enthuse a couple of my colleagues who were quite rightly curious about the moves I'd learnt in my Aquafit classes, but I don't think I'll be giving up my day job...

This week

What a difference two seasons make!  I had my last alcoholic drink just over six months ago and I just don't miss it.  I never ever thought I'd write those words.  I use wine for cooking and last night had to throw over half a bottle away as it had been open almost 2 months.  Only a snifter (a gift) of homemade sloe gin, a dram of vodka and some orange liqueur remain.  Ooh those celebratory Cosmos...  Hmmm.  I have coped with the challenges, joys, disappointments and the humdrum of daily life for half a year without my former go-to crutch.  Following the anti-climax of another potential project amounting to nothing last week after almost 3 months' preparation and groundwork, all of which was enjoyable and enriching, I realise my resilience is at an all time high.  Managing and developing my business is a challenge.  Doing that without my newfound sobriety is an impossibility.  I know a brilliant alcohol dependency coach if anyone needs one.  You really have to want to stop though, he doesn't take any prisoners.

Inclusive

It's been a while since I applied for jobs

Monday got off to a flying 6am start as is the norm these days and it turned out to be a bit of a grumpy day off.  I was intending on getting some precious practice hours in ahead of my happily harp centred fortnight but my brain and body just refused.  The weather was warm but by no means itsy bitsy and after a quiet week, my weekend revolved around a job application I had toyed with over the past ten days.  It's a position I think I would love and excel at.  I felt I ticked most of the boxes apart from a couple of fundamentally important requirements and with the memories of shift work still clear in my mind and body, I decided I had nothing to lose by just going for it. I was very clear from the outset about my lacking in the criteria the job demanded, avoiding any guilt about wasting the company's time.  I've only completed an online job application form once before so that was a valuable learning curve in itself and quite an enjoyable one once I familiarised myself with it.  The process involved bouncing from one document to another on my laptop and finally down to my duvet on the lawn on Sunday morning where I had my brain splurge in trying to convey with utmost honesty why I was a musician and human being worth knowing about even if I wasn't the ideal candidate for that particular job.  6pm came and I got my head down, only occasionally coming up for air, a cat stretch and some fruity nutty brain snacks.  I was hungry but I know that I fall into a bit of a postprandial stupor after my evening meal.

Brainstorm breakfast

The best starting place.  Spot the photobomber

Shortly after 10pm I realised with horror I'd omitted one section.  How did that happen?  I frantically looked through my notes and couldn't find anything.  After I calmed down, the response to this question flowed freely and with the irresistible 11.59pm deadline, I pressed the button at 11.09.  I could have read my increasingly blurring words an umpteenth time and tweaked and re-tweaked to the wire but my leftover curry was consumed just before midnight.  Hyperactively exhausted, I ate and I wondered to myself why I didn't get round to doing it sooner.  That was nipped in the bud and I reassured myself that the outcome isn't important.  Going through the whole process is what mattered.  When's the next one?  I feel a sense of achievement today even though I know I'm up against hundreds if not thousands of work thirsty candidates who are equipped with far better skills than me, and it was an important step I had to take in my journey - still putting myself out there.  I was surprised to receive an email copy of my application as soon as I sent it.  I can't bring myself to look at it yet, but it will be useful for reference in due course.

Meditation irony

Too much time at my computer fried my brain and my body this weekend, but Pilates and a day off ironed most of that out

Thanks Mike!

My minimal (for now) attic office table with the remnants of my makeshift extra table from the weekend's work endeavours.  No wonder my back ached.  It looks a bit like a boardroom doesn't it?  It will once I've tidied up

Never one for half measures, I've set myself the challenge of a 5 part Facebook quiz week to help me get used to recording and video so that I'm not putting the same stuff up on my page all the time.  I've already rescheduled it twice after unrealistically planning to get it started yesterday.  I'm all about sharing my music and my love and passion for it while pushing my boundaries and learning new skills, and trying to make all that fun.  I've got a messy music desk piled with manuscript for the coming few days which I can't wait to delve back into.  I also get to savour the fruit of another challenge I set myself a few months ago - get my body in just good enough shape for a bikini.  No, I'm not off on holiday just yet, but I was told when I was offered this work that there's a pool onsite that we can use in breaks.  That's what lured me into Aquafit, which I will obviously maintain as I can't imagine a week without it.

Whoops!

It happened again...  A dress fit for business practically threw itself at me

My shopping trip was short and to the point.  The first shop I wasn't even planning on going to provided the bikini (blue and pink!) I ticked off my list at a bargain price of £6, so even if I do bottle out, which I won't, I can still wear it round the house when the weather gets tropical again.  I'm always on the lookout for blacks and I know I'll find plenty of use for that new little best friend.  At that price, there was no way I could walk away.  I came back and crashed onto my sofa and dreamt heavily.  I could have stayed there all evening but I roasted my chicken for the week and arrived only slightly late for Pilates, my mood as dark as thunder.  It was great to iron out my body and mind's creases and my lateness meant I missed those horrible monkey squats which stoke my anxiety, maybe because my legs are still quite weak and perhaps due to a fear of falling?  Or hurting my back?  There were a few postures that roused giggling (who said Pilates is all seriousness?) amongst emphatic groans and strenuous huffing and puffing (who said Pilates is easy?)  We finished with some thrilling vertiginous swooping and I felt my body and soul start to smile again.  There's something cathartic about group physical activity.  I'm so glad I didn't stay on my sofa.  Fred was back from almost two months driving through France and Spain and looking like a native with his olive toned skin.  He introduced me to a man who's high up at the local golf club and he took a few of my cards.  We share a surname!  We must be related...

This week?  Bring it on!

He-bee

How many bees can you see?

He-butterfly

Harrogate

Tom Moore giving me his best Stevie Wonder impersonation.  It was a mistake to leave my sunglasses on top of the organ for a few minutes, or was it?

I had a great day in Harrogate yesterday.  The weather was most favourable and I like going to Harrogate - I inevitably see a red kite or twenty punctuating the heavens around Harewood.  Their rufous enormity and forked tail makes their appearance  unmistakeable and their strong Welsh connection means they're a comforting sight for me here in Yorkshire.  As I enjoyed my drive through the lush countryside I had a thought that filled me with dread - I'd forgotten the organ was very flat, probably lower than A336.  If you're a non musician, this just means I have to retune my harp which I keep at A441.  It takes a while for my harp to settle, and again as I tune it upwards after the concert.  The lower pitch makes everything feel and sound a bit depressing and the singers struggle too.  As I got into the church I spotted my mate Tom.  I've worked with him a few times and he's a pretty cool bloke, a bit quirky.  He's the kind of guy I can walk up to and tell him to stop fiddling with his organ.  To my relief, he was making friends with the hired organ, so no tuning issues.  Like me, Tom has specific shoes for negotiating all his pedals.  He's Director of Music at Wakefield Cathedral and we've played Chichester Psalms there before with the same choral conductor, the lovely colourful Andrew Padmore.  As well as being a bit of a whizz kid on the old keys, Tom always wheels out a pretty spectacular short solo that shows off his prowess and last night was no exception.  He wowed us with a quirky piece by Charles Ives in keeping with the American theme of the concert as well as his personality.  Alongside his organ duties Tom is a great educator and he was responsible for training the chorister who featured in the second movement of the Bernstein last night.  I always look forward to this stunning spiritual movement and I wasn't disappointed listening to Charlie last night.  A shy red head, the silence was spectacular as he sang with the purest of voices and our reaction as he humbly and innocently accepted his acknowledgement made him blush!  Gorgeous!  The choir were on top form as was Andrew, and he always makes me chuckle with his selection of themed waistcoats.  Imagine my glee when I spotted harps on the one he wore for the first half of the concert!

The drive home was blissfully quiet and pensive and the golden fiery sunset was a blessing, as was the solitary lapwing bidding me farewell as I took my leave of  Harrogate.  Yesterday felt like a short day and I was lucky to be home by 10 and get a head start on preparation for today and tomorrow's exciting events.  Brides - come and see and hear me and have a chat at the Holiday Inn in Garforth!  I'm looking forward to seeing those lovely blokes Allan and Grant from Wedding Fayres Yorkshire as well as meeting some talented suppliers.  It's great to be busy again and I'm feeling good-tired, and despite two catnaps in my car in my long break yesterday I'm looking forward to some serious chill and duvet time on Wednesday...

The beautiful setting at St Wilfrid's

Maybe the organ Tom was meant to be playing?

The peaceful hall where I did my brief Pilates session - look at the geometric detail in that ceiling

Beautiful roses for playing