Bach Brought Down to Earth

The final performance of Bach's St Matthew Passion was laid to rest yesterday, Good Friday (not so Good in France, as it is not a holiday and there are no hot cross buns).  This morning the dishwasher still needs stacking, there are hungry mouths to feed, and the washing machine has broken again...JC calls me Castafiore these days.

Bianca Castafiore, the Comic Singing Anti Heroine from Tin Tin who may have esoteric significance

If I were La Castafiore I would definitely have someone in to take care of the dishwasher stacking and the hungry mouths and so forth (my personal assistant Irma, and perhaps a lend of Captain Haddock's butler Norbert) would spend the day reclining on my chaise long being fed grapes by my handsome and admiring beau, re-living past glories, and doing a profound artistico-spiritual analysis of the music.   As it is, this part will have to wait...but in the meantime, some photos of the preparations, the slightly tense moments 'before' (no cameras during).  In summary:  full house, standing ovation, tears and glory...

The Stage is Set

Surly Adolescent, Cheeky pre-adolescent and Proud Father

The offprings took the subject of the Passion (crucifixion) very seriously.  There were strongly encouraged ("forced" in R's words) to come, and felt themselves to be the victims of a similar event, the promise of the forthcoming resurrection did not seem to console them...B sat at the back during the warm-up before the concert, headphones on and nose in a book, utterly unaware of the sound projected in his direction.  His comment after the show was:  nice solo, can we go home now?  R took some photos, but just as the hush descended and the final launch commenced he broke cover, moved seat, appeared to be searching for something (the camera as it turned out), ran along the front row in a bright red top, clambered along the back row disturbing everyone and causing a number of tuts and sshhhss, found his seat was taken and disappeared to the consternation of his mother.   He was discovered by B at the end of the show stretched out on a sofa and gone solid gone, as Baloo would say, although R does claim to have heard my solo before he fell, clearly identifiable by the 'English accent', he says.  All these things have to be overcome when one is an Artiste, and yes we did question whether we should have invited our progeny, but it is a once in a lifetime event and perhaps one day they will look back on it fondly.

Yer archetypal resentful teenager, yes, this is what I live with

JC and I Prepare

R does impromptu performance of Gangnam Style

The first chorists arrive

Our heroic tragi-comic choirmaster

Dreadful, but the only photos we have

Ditto

JC and JC the Pianist who hums as he plays, has a meloncholy  face and a cartoon smile

R decided to take a video of the moment when JC accused me of Losing his Music Lamp and I counter accused him of Having Lost It Himself and it was subsequently Found in the Bag.  How come the only people who ever take photos of me come up under my chin, at my age I need top angles.   Must find some taller companions.

Countdown to Passion

Final rehearsals this weekend, and first concert on Sunday.  I've been singing since January, all the time every day, while I'm frying the mushrooms, while I'm dusting the shelves, while I'm hoovering the carpet (well the Dyson we have is very quiet).

So far, I've taught myself:

To sing and articulate at the same time (in French)
To be PRESENT when I sing
To live the story of the song
To sing down to earth
To push out resonant sound (to compensate for lack of vocal volume)
To hit higher notes
To breathe more effectively (still difficult)
To sing from the 'base' (a bit more than before, still difficult)
To sing with earth, air, fire and water
To be unashamed to sing any time, anywhere (R&B are not unashamed)
To ignore criticism
To have a jolly good time

This is what I rely on:

Vogel echinacea throat spray
Propolis throat spray
Propolis throat drops
Swedish bitters in litres of water


Still to do:

Sew button on jacket (check I can still fit in to it, expanded lungs don't you know)
Iron skirt
Do all cooking and shopping in advance
Programme concert venues into the satnav

Made Over

Chez nous, the Changing Rooms phenomenon is not passé, it is alive, and filled with excitement and wonder, because the whole thing happened while I was out of the country and I haven't had time to get bored with it.  It also adapts to an ecological recycling approach, reducing over consumerism and saving cash.

JC and I have just changed R's room - the change to teenage/adult, and because we are dividing R&B's shared room into two dens;  a project which involves putting up a sliding door partition with frosted glass, recycling and re-vamping existing furniture, using ecological materials.

We had to put up the partition ourselves as we couldn't get anyone to reply to our requests for an estimate.  This is French DIY - you have to do it yourself because you can't get the labour or it's too expensive. I can't show you the partition, as we encountered French Shopping disasters;  had to order the doors, when phoned for doors, had already sold out, took the 2 left in the shop, and still waiting for the 3rd.

The whole project took over a week of work, full time, the hardest thing was being responsable for the cooking at the same time.

We love LED clip on light, IKEA

My taste is Arts and Crafts movement, the more colours the merrier and with an abundance of painted on plants , R's taste is your standard square black red and grey industrial, so it was a bit of a challenge for me but I think we found Compromise.

As the room was now divided in two and R's room small, I painted as much white as I could to make the objects recede into the wall.

renover secretaire en pin

We bought the solid pine traditional French style secretaire at Emmaus for 15 Euros.  We cannot permit ourselves to buy a reconstituted wood fibre and melamine ecological monstrosities from IKEA which will sit next to R's bed and outgas carconogenic and toxic fumes for 10 years (however this type of furniture over 10 years old can be recycled rather than destroyed).   R immediately took against the desk;  it was old, it was orange glazed pine, it was never designed with a computer in mind,  it was scribbled and scratched on and to make things worse, by a GIRL.

We experimented with using cheapo caustic soda,  leaving for 24 hours and then neutralising with hydrochloric acid.  We scraped off the worst of the gunk and sanded the rest.  The worst paint was the local DIY slightly better for the environement, which isn't very interested in sticking.  The best was BIOFA water based undercoat and top coat.

Metal office locker as wardrobe and recycled peg board  and hanger found in bin

The knobs are Knobs of Contention.  Here is how I see them;  a modern take on a traditional French design, made in porcelaine, funky as slightly outsized and in a colour range.  Here is how R sees them; not metal, not square, and shouldn't be more than 2 colours, preferably 1, grey.

R however, enjoyed the transformation of the desk, and can appreciate the solid wood ecological quality.

Solar LED lamp, left, right, LED clip on lamp, both orange

B took the opportunity to enjoy a mini-makeover for his den.  He has 3 multi-plugs full of wires in order to supply the gadgets he needs to live in comfort.  We tidied them up with IKEA's excellent wire- tidying organisers and put a red metal cabinet under the desk to put ugly stuff and wires in, and cut the large carpet in two to make one for each den, and he has IKEA's state of the art desk chair guaranteed 10 years, good.

Overall, a joy to be in, visually pleasing, practical, A TRIUMPH and R loves it (apart from the knobs, have agreed to change the ones on the bed to grey).

Early Spring??

The day before this, we were in t-shirts enjoying the strange golden light which we have hardly seen this year, (I believe it is called sun) and spreading compost and tidying the herb garden and painting a desk outside.  Mmm, we stretch, Spring is here, the worst of the winter behind us...

 The next day we find ourselves on a different planet - temperature drops 30 degrees,  heavy snow fallen all night and falls all day...Eurostar cancelled after 1 metre falls of snow in Picardie.  So not  going to England this week, will try again in April (40 degree heatwave, flood, hurricanes?).

Hyacinth bows

View across suburbs to La Defense

The miraculous almond blossom, untouched while other trees are clogged with snow, does it generate heat?

Olive tree clogged with snow, forsythia clogged with snow etc

Tea on the terrace?

Out with my son

Out with my son age 15.  We don't see that much of each other nowadays.    We set off, and he complains that I do not walk fast enough.   My hips are aching, my breath is short.  He does not know I lost my fitness walking always slowly and stooping low with a toddler, and that toddler was him, and that it doesn't seem that long ago.

I invite him to walk on and go without me.

He wants me to come with him, he is grateful.  He experiments with cruelty.  He says goodbye.  He walks off.  I don't mind, I let him go.  After a short burst of speed he stops and waits, and thanks me for coming with him.  I irritate him, I embarass him.  I'm his mother.  He badgers me to finish my mushroom risotto in a plastic tub and insists I drink the smoothie on the way home.  I just can't eat any faster. I don't want to.    I talk too loudly in the metro.  He picks a fight.   He shouts at me, gets angry, he says he's BORED with hearing the same thing and strides off, not very convincingly,  enjoying the fact that I can't catch him up, noticing that I can waddle after him when I'm determined to make my point in the argument, which is all about doing things for his good.  "You should walk more.  You should get fit again Mum".

I see him in the metro crowds, the same shape, height and colour as all the other adult males.

When we've finished arguing not very convincingly, we talk about science, and alchemy, and the science of life, and transhumanism.   I'm aware I'm trying to pass him seeds of something, seeds in a packet for his pocket which he will carry into his life.   Seeds formed from my life, ready to be planted, but which don't look much for the time being, and might easily be lost in a dusty pocket.

I know I won't be out with this son for much longer.  I think the people who will go out with him will be lucky.

Egg Table

Well here she is our egg-shaped tripod table which we designed in collaboration with local ecological carpenter and artisan Philippe,  made from Ash. (http://www.histoiresdarbres.com)    Our table is affectionately known as Cosmic Egg (after Hildegarde of Bingen).

Hildegarde of Bingen's Cosmic Egg

Because it has three legs and a curved shape it is possible to sit up to 12 people around it, without anyone being jammed against a leg (the legs are set well back).  It has 5 coats of ecological 'hard' oil, and is pretty tough.  The natural grain of the wood means it is not too pristine and stain-fussy.

The more I get to know this table, the more I love it.  Everyone always ends up round the table, not just for meals, also because you're talking to the cook or need a flat space for your tea and biscuits, your pen and paper, your musical score...   It's rounded shape and edging creates a fluid passage around it, is comfortable to lean into.   You can sit anywhere on the curve, close to your neighbour, or if you prefer, in a space by yourself to work, or sing, or think, there are almost infinite possibilities along the curved line, and it feels comfortable for one, two three, four and a cat with hope in its heart, around the circular bit for sitting opposite with plenty of space, or gathered closely around the pointy end, or nobly separated at each end and facing one another, and comfortable with a crowd assembled.  It's pale warm colour reflects a soft light, it's grain is infinitely fascinating, it's touch soft and appealing, conversations flow over it, meals spread out comfortably, a cluster of mismatched cheap and recycled chairs gathered around it, differences welcome,  it is a centre of family life.

"If we are showing off the table mum, then we must all sit like Bree Hodge (B and JC didn't)

I'm sure it will double as a conference table in future years,  for the Hermit Support Group's Annual Conference, perhaps.

Marks Again!

R was in the mood for revelations this morning:  having previously received a false mark on Pronote, the Mark Obsessed Website, 3 out of 20 instead of 13, he now finds the error can be in his favour.  He is the proud owner of a 20 out of 20 intsead of a 12.  This is because he is sometimes given the marks of another boy in his class who shares his name.  Happily for R, this boy is an 'intello', a particularly obedient and diligent child who dedicates his life to getting good marks, so R can only come out on top.

I previously reported that someone at school had hacked into Pronote The Online Mark Administrator and upgraded all his marks, and this morning more revelations emerged on this subject too;

"He got expelled from the school"

"But I thought he only got a warning"

"No, because in fact he was helping lots of people to get good marks"

"A philanthropist, hardly a sacking offence..."

"No, he was charging 10 Euros an upgrade.  He got caught because he usually had an avarage of 8 out of 20 and he changed it to 18 out of 20.  And then one day a teacher noticed one of her marks should be 15 and was 20, she thought it was a mistake and put it back to 15, and then seconds later it went back up to 20, so they knew there was a hacker"

"Hang on a minute, how do you know all this?"

"One of the assistant teachers likes to tell stories" he says smiling, "It's a pity that boy got caught, otherwise by 18 he could have been a rich man".