Music - Sounds of my Life

 

“If music be the food of love, play on;”  from Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare.

“Music was my first love and it will be my last…”  John Miles.

Throughout my life music has always been there, in various forms, and always been important. I grew up with my mother’s radio, or maybe I should call it ‘the wireless’ and I think we listened to ‘The Light Programme’. I still have my mother’s records, the singles and LPs that we spent many hours singing and dancing to in my childhood and our pubs always had the sounds of the jukebox filtering upstairs, or someone belting out a tune on a piano. My love of piano music remains. I don’t play very much now as poor sight comes between me and the sheet music, but it’s nice to have the occasional plonk about when there’s no one to hear. A familiar song or piece of music can transport me to times past in a second and fill me with joy and remind me of how far I’ve come.

 I love lots of music, not just symphonic or progressive rock. Live music is the best but I won’t bore you with all of the concerts I’ve been to. Music soothes the soul, calms the spirit, or makes us want to dance, so what I might listen to depends on what suits at any given time. Rolling Stones, Oasis, The Smiths, Mozart, Chopin, Prokofiev (especially Troika), gospel choirs, Gregory Porter, Simply Red and many more are amongst my favourites. When they were living with us, I enjoyed listening to my son playing guitar or bass; and my daughter’s wonderful singing, both of them talented. They entertain their own families now.

If you know me personally, or through my blogs, you might have noticed me mention that the music of The Moody Blues is the main soundtrack to my life. This month I have had their album ‘December’ permanently on the CD player. The track ‘December Snow’ has a wonderful piano solo in the middle and I really wish I could play that myself. I’ve lost count of how many MBs concerts I’ve attended over the years, many tours, many cities, each one a breath-taking experience. Those days are gone, the band is depleted and I’m glad I was able to be there at the time. I look forward to seeing John Lodge again, on his solo tour next year.

Here’s an old poem of mine, an attempt at capturing the essence of a magical Moody Blues concert,

The Concert.

 

The lights are lowered, silence fills the arena

As the minstrels move through darkness on to the stage.

This is the moment, breathless anticipation,

Travelling eternity road has been an age.

 

Then a flute’s haunting melody rises above

Twin guitar riffs to take lead of the symphony.

Slow, bass drum, and applause reaches a crescendo,

Orchestral rock and voices singing harmony.

 

On the threshold of ecstasy, keeping the faith,

We’ve made this pilgrimage so many times before,

To be rewarded with autographs and handshakes

After waiting patiently outside the stage door.

 

PMW  2010

 

 Very best wishes for 2025. May your dreams come true.

Thanks for reading, Pam x

Read More

Being in the spotlight

From a young age I enjoyed being in the limelight. We, local children, devised back garden concerts and I recall singing "Tulips from Amsterdam" aged about 6, wearing a rather too small flower girl dress. Finally after many years of pleading I was taken to Donald's ice rink in Aberdeen. I had to have an outfit just like Sonja Henie's, as I'd seen her wearing in a movie. Full of confidence, and thinking I'd glide effortlessly across the ice, I launched myself. It didn't work like I'd seen in the film! A couple of years later and I was competing. My mother remained a nervous wreck, whilst I took it all in my stride. So it was that entering competitions or taking tests became second nature.

Failing my 11 plus I went to a Junior Secondary School. However the education I received there was superb. Encouraged to sing, I had lessons and was an active member of the school choir. Gleefully taking part in operettas and once singing solo in St Machar's Cathedral. The English teacher encouraged us to debate, and I took part in inter school debating. She also involved me in plays, giving me major roles. The Duke Of Edinburgh Award scheme was in full swing in this school and I was asked to attend a first aid course where the Duke of Edinburgh himself was to attend. I was elected to tell him what was taking place. I left that school with 5 "O" grades and 1 "0" level...that being in oral English (an actual 'English' qualification, as there was no equivalent ).

At college I was elected as class representative , taking any issues to the rector and staff.

As a teacher I thought of my work as rather like acting...giving tuition, encouragement and maintaining discipline. Front of house...so to say. I was not averse  to taking part in many extra curricular activities, and displaying interests other than those of being 'teacher'.

I returned to ice skating and took up ice dance with a partner and we competed for Oxford in the Southern league. So this was a form of being in the spotlight once more.

Giving up teaching after 20 years and moving house, with a new husband. I was suddenly propelled into more limelight as he was such an exuberant and outgoing person. Together we formed an ice skating club in Elgin, giving tuition and organising shows...taking part ourselves too, thus encouraging youngsters and adults to take up skating.

It was then that I took up dancing. My husband was very keen on ballroom dancing and rock and roll. We liked to join in 1940's and 50's events...dressing in the era and letting our hair down. Never phased at being the first on the floor, trying to get people to join in and have fun. Fancy dress events were looked forward too and eagerly planned for and organised. Yes. We had a good life together.

After his death I returned to skating after two years absence taking care of him. Two weeks in, at Blackpool Arena, I was invited to do a solo programme in a charity show to raise funds for "Help for Heroes". So aged 60 I was the oldest participant and I featured in a figure skating magazine.

Those early days paved the way and made me a confident, energetic person, willing to embrace life ...be a participant and not an audience member. It's not for all, but it's stood me in good stead. I don't mind being in the spotlight....

   This morning I sat down and quickly drafted this piece....

                    Places, Lights, Action

              Places, lights, action.
              No camera required, yet.
              This dear child, is life.
              The cameras come later
              When you're cleaned and wrapped.

              You are in the spotlight -
              On the stage for life.
              No shying away.
              No return for you.
              Face the world, little mite.

              Places, lights, action.
              First day at school.
              Be a leader or be led.
              It's up to you -
              In the spotlight, or the shadows ?

              Take part, or sit back -
              That's your only option.
              Follow your dream,
              Stand in the beam,
              Or fall by the wayside.

              Places, lights, action.
              First day of work.
              Climb the ladder or stay at the foot.
              You're here for the duration.
              Shine in your work - your choice.

              The spotlight dims- the audience silent.
              Curtain slowly falls.
              You've taken a bow - a final exit.
              So how did you do ?
              Places, darkness, stillness.......CUT !


       Thanks for reading, Kath
             

Read More

Shipwreck - rock on and roll off.

Most of the time, I am cautious. I believe that once my children were born, I changed from someone who acted spontaneously and quite often had to extricate herself from difficult circumstances by sheer intellect, into a mother. A mother only takes calculated risks. A mother must weigh up a situation before stepping in to problems. A mother considers the effect of any reckless act on the lives of those she has to protect.

So from 1989 (when my son was born) until 2007 (when my daughter reached 16) I was a steady driver, rarely drank alcohol, went to bed early on a school/work night, didn't have any dangerous liaisons (even after Decree Absolute) and I would never have considered putting my own life at risk, for fear of leaving my children motherless.

In 1995, following some visual disturbances, while working at my PC, I sought medical advice. After three different misdiagnoses by the NHS, followed by a private consultation with a professor at Manchester University Hospital, a referral to an orthopaedic surgeon and two neuro-surgeons, I was told that I have an inoperable spinal condition. Caution in everything was essential to staying alive.

For a professional dancer, it was really lousy news. I was working in the Civil Service by then but still enjoyed an active social life and was still teaching a little. I still danced socially. I still enjoyed a game of tennis. Overnight I had to rethink. In 1997, I was the one at the bottom of all the rides in The Magic Kingdom. I looked after the bags at Typhoon Lagoon and Blizzard Beach and I only got to sit still and watch the shows at Universal Studios. I became the 'bag lady'. I was afraid of ending up in a wheelchair. I was afraid to join in.

I had motherhood to console me. My son's football, clarinet and tennis- my daughter's gymnastics - a wonderful training that consumed both for over a decade. Eventually they became more independent and I found myself wondering what would occupy my out of work hours. The future loomed like a long, dark tunnel. I started dancing one evening a week with a kind friend. Compared to my competitive and professional cabaret days, it was a bit like sleep-walking. I also signed up for a one year creative writing course. Nothing remotely dangerous.

In 2008 - I did a reckless act. The thought of it still makes me shudder. It was thrilling. It was exhilarating. It was also probably very stupid but I don't regret it. It was the maddest thing that I had done for years. I think that I probably needed to take a risk.

I had taken my son to a rendezvous point close to the motorway junction at 6am. On the way home, the local radio news was all about a ferry vessel that was listing in the Irish Sea, having blown off course en route to Heysham from Ireland. All passengers and crew had been successfully airlifted to safety by the RNLI by then but the roll-on-roll off ferry Riverdance was unmanned just off the shore at Cleveleys. The wind was gusting at 60 mph when a diminutive figure parked her car on the promenade, grabbed her Olympus Trip 35mm and ventured out onto the sand.

Riverdance had not yet run aground in her final resting place. I really had to battle against the sea spray which, as anyone local will tell you, foams up like a dirty bubble bath in rough weather. It was February, very cold, blowing like hell and I had to grapple along the wooden posts that run down from the pebble beach into the sea. I took photographs. I took a risk. It was my really first risky moment for more than a decade. It was the first of many. And I know that there are many more to come. (Oh and just in case you are wondering - there were no biscuits on the beach - they must have washed up later.)

This picture was not taken by me. Mine were less clear and much wetter. 

Riverdance

I used to move like Flatley:
I glided like Astaire,
Until medical opinion
said I should take care.

I watched while others partied,
I faded to the wall,
I hung up my dancing shoes,
and just forgot it all.

Then one day, you were scuppered,
washed up  - just like me,
Riverdance, the ferry boat,
sinking in the sea.

I didn't weigh the danger,
just braved the wind and tide,
to watch your final struggle,
to see you tip broadside.

And something changed inside me,
I found another me,
a person long forgotten,
the extrovert - I used to be.

I saw you rock and rolling
and joined you in your dance,
you made me feel alive again:
you made me take a chance.

I dusted off the dance shoes,
peeled my shadow off the wall,
for life is what you do with it
and if you're dancing - it's a ball.

Thanks for reading. Adele

Read More

Death: It's behind you.

You will have to forgive the glib header today.  I realise that the pantomime season is coming to a close but I just couldn't resist. You see I am a product of my father's attitude to death and life after death. Some folk live their whole lives preparing for it: Others don't. Best thing is not to live in fear of death, just accept the inevitability of it and make sure that where possible, others do not suffer from yours.

Beyond adequate life insurance to provide for your family in the event of your untimely death and a policy that provides for funeral expenses that don't burden others, living an active and enjoyable life is more important. For some people, it takes a near death experience before they actually begin to take risks and really get the most out of life.

Dad used to say that sometimes you have to take life and shake it by the tail. He loved a party, he enjoyed competing, played golf, snooker, music and loved a bet on a horse. He danced, he travelled, went fishing, he loved gardening, he sang and he laughed. At 83 he was still having lessons on a piano keyboard but finally gave up because he realised that he was having the same lesson every week. He knew that death was closing in on him but he was still in love with life. He wasn't giving up the ghost willingly.

My happiest memories are of the times he danced with me. In a parent and child cha cha competition at The Adelphi in Liverpool, we won first prize, even though he went wrong at the end of the routine and I stormed off the dance floor, (I was seven - I still have the trophy). At my eighteenth birthday party when all my disco maniac friends watched us foxtrot with their mouths open. With Mum at their Golden Wedding anniversary party, two years after he was brought back from the brink by paramedics, who injected adrenaline directly into his heart after a massive coronary.

Death is always there, somewhere, stalking us. One day it will tap us on the shoulder. If we are lucky we will recognise it and change our lifestyle to keep it at arms length. Perhaps by the time it claims us, we will welcome it as a we would a trusted friend. When we die, what follows? Reincarnation? Heaven? Limbo? A journey down the River Styx to pay the ferryman? Who can say for sure?

On the Wednesday before my father died, I visited him in hospital. He told me to take good care of my children.  I kissed him on the forehead and left. I didn't see him alive again: He died on the Friday. Monday was May Day bank holiday and his body would not be released until Tuesday. On the Friday evening I was at home, sitting on the patio wall when a hand brushed my hair. On the Saturday afternoon, I was at my parent's house and as I opened the door to a florist, something walked right through me and I felt euphoric. On the Sunday afternoon, I was with a friend in my kitchen.  I suddenly felt that something was wrong with one of my children who were playing with her two children at her house. 

The friend tried to reassure me that they were with her husband and were perfectly safe. Despite this, I grabbed my bottle of Rescue Remedy, ran through the house, down the driveway and as I turned towards her house, my children were running towards me.  Katie, the youngest was on the outside and fell off the kerb. Before she could even cry, I had lifted her onto my hip and put a drop of Rescue onto her tongue. The friend had followed me out and was flabbergasted.  She said she had never witnessed anything like that in her life. As we walked back into my house, I saw my father standing close to the hedge on my driveway. I instantly realised that he was there to chastise me because I was not looking after the children myself.  

As for what happens after we die. I am not sure. I only saw him once. His body was cremated soon afterwards and perhaps his soul went then. It did leave me with a lasting impression. I saw Dad on the third day after his death. It just gives me enough space to wonder... In the end, only three things matter, how much you loved, how gently you lived and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.



Joe Black 

Enjoy your lives.  Thanks for reading.  Adele

Read More

Spring in my Step

I tend to be a person with a permanent "Spring in my Step "....which is very fortunate and makes itself known in my hobbies of dancing, ice skating and hillwalking.

Play music and I'm off - feet tapping, body moving - and I'm likely to be up dancing in seconds. Any type of dancing, I like to give it a go. I laughingly tell friends that I'd do the " Wah toosie " .....as long as I can participate.

I haven't skated for a few months now as I found I was getting dizzy when spinning. I'd finish the spin and find the rink still revolving! Also I still love to jump and even telling myself that I'm just going to skate round sedately, or do a bit of ice dance....no , I'm still hankering to leap about! Springs in my feet!

As a teenager and into my 20's I took up trampolining. I absolutely LOVED it! I tell a secret here ....I have a trampette in the garage and often have a surreptitious bounce. In fact I hanker after a trampoline in the garden!!

As you all know by now I do a lot of hillwalking and am usually out at least twice a week. I shun the use of a stick ( although I carry one folded up ) preferring to use my own balance and if necessary use hands, knees and occasional backside movements to achieve a scramble! Jumping streams, muddy areas and the like is a great delight to me.

Why, just recently I've twice run for the bus, quite forgetting that I am getting that much older. Without a second thought I've heard the bus coming and taken off hell for leather down the pavement. The first time the passengers gave me a cheer! The second time the bus driver was gobsmacked when I handed over my bus pass, and he told me I was"awesome". I just don't think!!

I firmly believe that every park ought to have 'play' equipment for adults.  We tend to forget the joy involved in play, and I look enviously on when I see children enjoying the apparatus in a playground. Actually I have been known to sneak onto some of the equipment and have a go. I've enjoyed a winter time 'swing' at Stanah Country Park. I've slid down a slide in Melrose. I've had a go in the adventure play area in Slaidburn. Joy of joy I found an adult recreation area in Settle.

I have a push along adult scooter and whizz up and down the prom, or the coastal path at Knott End...even up the Dunsop Valley. Kids shout "show us some tricks granny " ...and one day I might!!

My poem this week is related to walking and I wrote it in 1989......I found it untitled..

Show me a track,

Put a pack on my back

And the open fields before me.

Then off I shall trek

All you'll see is a speck,

For I shall be off and free.

Give me fresh air

The wind in my hair

The mountain tops before me.

And away I shall speed

Dressed all in my tweed

For I shall be off and free.

Give me a good map

Some soup and a bap

And the open glens before me.

Then away I shall stalk

Gone far, for a walk

For I shall be off and free.

Give me stout boots

For I'll never take roots

Within the valleys before me

For away I shall stride,

My dog at my side

For I shall be off and free.

Give me a stout stick

And I'll be off quick

Down the road before me.

For I'll never turn back

From the wide open tract

For I shall be off and free.

Thanks for reading .....Kath

Read More