written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label transport. Show all posts
Showing posts with label transport. Show all posts

Tuesday, 31 December 2024

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

Tuesday, 10 September 2019

All Aboard A Cal-Mac Ferry!


Sailing was not my favourite method of transport.  Years ago I would feel queasy on my father’s cabin cruiser, moored at the side of Lancaster Canal, especially when a passing boat sent ripples through the water.  The memory has never left me, but as my desire to visit the Outer Hebrides grew, and the only practical way to do it was to take the car, it was ‘let’s go for it, I’ll cope’. And cope I did, but there wasn’t a problem. The first time we went, we pre-booked our crossings with Caledonian MacBrayne on a Hopscotch ticket and sailed from the mainland to Skye, then Skye to Benbecula, North Uist to the Isle of Harris and the Isle of Lewis back to the mainland. We crossed different waters and they were short journeys. I was very happy to be sailing comfortably. We stayed in some amazing places and tried to pack as much sight-seeing in as possible. We drove south as far as Eriskay, a tiny island reached by a causeway from the end of South Uist. Unfortunately we missed out the Isle of Barra. We couldn’t schedule it in, but it was a perfect reason to return the following year.



I couldn’t wait to get back to the wonder of the Outer Hebrides. It’s like being in another world, even another planet; it’s so different from anywhere. We were only going to the Isle of Barra, not touring like before, but we needed the car and our dog would be with us so we chose the most direct route. We would sail from Oban to Castlebay, Barra. It was a journey of over five hours, but I had confidence from the last time. It would be fine. We arranged an overnight stop near Glasgow before a long drive to Oban for a lunch-time ferry. It was mid-May, warm and sunny, the beginning of last summer’s glorious weather. I looked forward to boat trips around the small islands close to Barra.

After the many crossings we did the year before, we had ferry travel off to a fine art and chose our seats by the windows in a dog-friendly area close to a cafĂ©. We settled down for the long trip.  The beginning of the voyage was slow and gentle through the Sound of Mull. I hoped to get photographs of Tobermory as we passed the Isle of Mull before sailing into open water. Being out at sea, away from the shelter of the Inner Hebrides, was very unpleasant for me. The water was choppy, the ferry rose and fell like a slow roller-coaster. I couldn’t stand up, I would surely fall. Our poor spaniel whimpered and sat on my husband’s knee like Scooby-Doo. I spent hours bent forward, staring at the floor, feeling unwell.  I was so glad to reach Castlebay.

The experience of that crossing put me off any idea of island boat trips. We were halfway through our stay before I felt better, then I began to worry about the ferry back to the Scottish mainland.

Sailing back to Oban was fine, I needn’t have worried, but I’m back to square one. Sailing is not my favourite method of transport.

I think I’ll manage the Orkneys, but Shetland will have to be a flight and a hire car.

 


I've chosen Robert Louis Stevenson's version,

Over the Sea to Skye

Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
Say, could that lad be I?
Merry of soul, he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye

Mull was astern, Rum was on port,
Eigg on the starboard bow.
Glory of youth glowed in his soul,
Where is that glory now?

Give me again all that was there,
Give me the sun that shone.
Give me the eyes, give me the soul,
Give me the lad that's gone.

Billow and breeze, islands and seas,
Mountains of rain and sun;
All that was good, all that was fair,
All that was me is gone.

             Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 - 1894)


Thanks for reading, Pam x