moving on 2

Music

This has been the latest moving on phase in my life. In fact, it has been the hardest.

From the age of about 20ish I always played music. I had piano lessons as a child and although I learned to read music notation I didn't practise. In my 20's I took up the fiddle. This happened because my older son wanted lessons but soon gave up and I took his place. One week I remember that I had to learn a Scottish reel. I practised really hard and played it for my teacher who unkindly said, "Very good. Now play it again and make it sound like music."

My younger son wanted guitar lessons and a similar story evolved. He gave up and I took over the lessons. Then in one lesson my teacher said you can sing to this tune. "I can't sing", I said. "Of course, you can," she said. So, I warbled along, and she said, "Oh dear no you can't."  

I am not sure why, but I fell in love with the clarinet. I had lessons and practised and made progress. One of my fondest memories is of the first time I made music in a group. My teacher invited me to join a clarinet choir which he conducted and rehearsed every Saturday morning. If you have never experienced playing an instrument in a group, I am not sure how to convey the excitement I felt. I suppose it is the same feeling I used to get when Breton dancing in a circle with 200 people.

I even took exams. After Grade 4 my teacher said, " Now for Grade 5 you have to do an oral." I laughed and said, "I am sorry, but you must know that I am tone deaf."  "No, no Mrs Bateman there is no such thing," and he preceded to test me. "Oh dear, I don't know what we can do."

I had a friend at the time who sang in the Ceramic City Choir, and she said that she would help me.  So, she sits at the piano and says, "Sing this note, and now this note." I warble the notes. She doesn't comment but as her back is to me, I see her shoulders shaking with laughter. 

Fortunately, I had another friend who was having clarinet lessons too and needed to pass the oral exam. She had found a way of learning the intervals. For example, when asked to sing a fifth, you sing in your head Twinkle, Twinkle little star.  "My Bonnie lies over the ocean" for the 6th, "Take on me" for the 7th, and "Somewhere over the rainbow" for the octave. She knew beginning chords for all the seven that we needed. I astounded my teacher who at first poopooed the idea and then as I demonstrated agreed that it worked. Now I can proudly say that I am Grade 5 on the clarinet.

I stopped taking exams but began playing in bands. I played in the Crewe West End Wind Band and the Nantwich Concert Band. Then a group of friends formed a Ceilidh band and invited me to join. We even got paid. 

At one staged of my life I earned a living, leading music sessions in three centres for people with learning difficulties.

When I retired, I spent my lump sum on a piano. It was an old school piano and I loved it.

When I moved to Brittany, I took all my instruments. By then I had two clarinets (a b flat and a c) a fiddle, a cello, a bag of percussion instruments and a keyboard. Oh yes and a piano.

I played with a friend for the Breton dance class. I continue to practise my fiddle and I played the piano for my own amusement.

When I moved back to Kidsgrove I left my lovely piano in Brittany. I gave it to a very good friend who had been a professional pianist and singer. She loved my piano too.  I did bring back all my other instruments back. After emptying all the bags and installing the furniture I took out my instruments to begin what had always been my usual practice each morning. Unfortunately, I discovered that my body refused to perform. Arthritis in fingers, lingering pains from a frozen left shoulder and from bursitis in my right shoulder meant that clarinet and violin were a no, no. All I can do now is to thump out Old MacDonald and Twinkle, Twinkle on the piano for the great grandchildren. 

I long ago gave up trying to encourage children, grandchildren and recently great grandchildren to play a musical instrument. I blame technology. First of all, they are all addicted to laptops and other fancy things of which I do not know the names and if they get their hands on an electronic keyboard, they quickly learn that by pressing a button the thing plays itself.

So, I have had to move on from what has been an important part of my life. I have replaced it with more writing and painting which also suffer from worsened physical prowess. My arthritic fingers struggle to write and back ache prevents long hours of painting. So, what I am saying is that creativity is at risk, but I refuse to live a life without creativity. 

GGF

 MY GREAT GRAN

I have watched her grow old. I remember when the used to pick us up from school. We would go via June's, a sweet shop. We were usually allowed crisps, but " no rubbish ", she would say. When we were teenagers, we, that's my sister and me lived with her for a time. In fact, my sister was at uni. and Gran drove her there and back for three terms for three years. Now she doesn't drive. Doesn't have a car because she says old people shouldn't drive. She still manages to collect my children from school and sometimes takes them on the bus to her house and lets them have fish and chips for tea because she hates cooking. I can see now that she is aging. She walks slowly and often loses her balance. Frequently she loses track of time and forgets what day it is and misses one of her classes.  She still paints and writes. The paintings are not quite as good as they used to be, but she has always taught us that the process is more important than the product. 

She is fiercely independent, and lives alone. She says she prefers it after being married for over 20 years. She had a boyfriend for many years and says she would never live with him and never marry again.

 

Moving on

If I look back over my life I must have moved on many times. I moved on after my divorce, I moved on after redundancy and I moved on after many bereavements. One doesn't forget the deceased but learns to live with the loss. I have always said that the three best things I ever chose to do in my life were, learning to drive, getting divorced and giving up smoking. At my age is it possible or do I need to move on?

Four years ago, I was living in France and now I am living in Kidsgrove the town where I was born. Is that moving on or moving back. Any way it happened like this.

I sold my house- well I thought I had. We signed the compromise, and I was delighted. I searched for properties in the UK. I had been steadily packing bags and boxes and giving things away, taking stuff to the dechetterie and the charity shop. On the Monday I should have signed the final papers and would have departed the next week; I had a farewell meeting with my Monday group. We met for tea, cakes and games and to speak French. We were in a cheerful mood but sad that I was leaving. It was celebratory in a way sharing presents and cards. Laughing and crying, all very emotional. It was that afternoon that it began. I heard a drip. Water was dripping from the bathroom via a light to the floor in the vestibule.

I spent the week mopping up, ringing plumbers, paying plumbers, contacting my insurance company and peeing and pooing in the garden as the water was turned off. Then the nightmare commenced. I awoke on Friday morning and listened for the drip, drip dripping. Silence. I went downstairs to find that the ceiling had collapsed. I can't remember exactly the sequence of events that followed but it involved more plumbers, experts to find the leak, insurance investigators and finally informing the buyers of the catastrophe which of course led to delaying the completion date for two weeks.

I was so fed up with pooing and peeing in the garden and the constant delays that I found a removal man who agreed to take me and my cats to the UK for a reasonable fee. My village in Brittany had no public transport. None at all. With all the other reasons for moving was that I wished to stop driving. So, I sold my car.

I arrived in Kidsgrove with all my furniture and boxes, so many boxes and no car.

At first, I woke in the middle of the night thinking about boxes and furniture then, I decided it was no use lying in bed thinking about it, so I frequently got up at three or four in the morning to deal with them.

On Sunday October 20, 2019, I wrote this list.

1) The house in France was still mine

2) France Telecom/Orange still continued to send emails and probably bills - I didn't dare to look

3)The buyers were yet to sign*

4) I hadn't received the insurance money*

5) I was still paying for a) Water b) rubbish collection c) electricity in France*

6) I was paying for a) Council Tax b) Gas and Electricity in UK

Yesterday I received a bill from the plumber in France. He said that he had fixed the leak.

All problems did get resolved and the boxes were emptied, and the furniture installed or given away. I found a brilliant builder on Facebook, and he installed French windows and a new second hand kitchen also super-duper fitted wardrobes in my bedroom. I was even given a piano and the builder heroically managed to get it into the house.

Although I lost a spectacular garden, I have created a very interesting garden here. It gives me great joy and I begin everyday by taking my cuppa outside.

I don't need a car here. I have a supermarket across the road, another 200 yards from my door which I access along a tree-lined path and a third in the opposite direction via a path lined with mature trees. I have a bus pass. There are frequent buses to Hanley, Crewe and Newcastle. I can use the money I save from being carless on taxis.

So, have I moved on? Not quite. I still cry when I read my old blog called "Living and Gardening in Brittany". At least I have two functioning toilets, no peeing and pooing in the garden which is a good job as there really is no room for that sort of thing here.

My new blog is called "Living Life in Reverse and Adapting to the Present and Looking to the Future." What a mouthful. Perhaps I should call it Janus.

You are never alone with a phone

On bus, train or plane, 

It keeps you sane.

Pot for one, next empty chair, 

In your pocket, it's always there.

 Running late for a date,

Jenny's a mate she'll wait,

She won't be vexed 

if you send a text.

 Going by car? Fill up the tank,

Forgot cash and card.

Your phone you can thank. 

Press and click, it's not hard.

Don't make a fuss if you miss the bus

Call city cabs, please don't to cuss,

No need to wait, five minutes you hear,

He's on his way, that's quick, he's here.

 

Car won't start, don't lose heart,

Battery's flat, phone is smart,

AAs on call, you're a member,

Put it on charge, it is November.

Doing a big shop, forgot the list,

It's not on your phone,

What have you missed,

OK give in ring home.

 Put it on charge, don't forget, 

Or you'll be left in the lurch.

Remember to mute

When in the church.

Doors

 The Door

  I am  going be late for my Dr's appointment. I wanted to go to the Travel Agent's too. I'll ring to apologise. There's a phone box. This door is heavy. I push harder, it opens, I fall in. Gosh it's dark in here. 

"Who are you?" says a voice from the shadows. 

Victoria Richards. I am in a terrible rush.  I want to make a phone call. I was going to book a holiday and I have an appointment for a blood test.  Are you a doctor--

"Yes, I am The Doctor."

Yes, but doctor who.

"That is correct. I am Doctor Who."

Don't joke. I need to make a phone call. 

"Of course, I can help you with your phone call and travel needs. Would you like interplanetary travel or time travel.  I can arrange everything for you."

Travel? So, it's not a phone box or the Dr's.

I walk forward towards a light, -- no it can't be. It looks like the control panel of a plane so many flashing lights and screens. 

The Doctor says, "You are my dear on the Star Ship Enterprise."

"That's OK then." I say to myself. "Where else would I be on a Monday morning on the way to the doctors."

I must have said the last bit out loud because The Doctor speaks again.

"That's correct my dear. The Doctor is here. I think you mentioned a blood test."

What? No. Let me get out of here. I want to open the door.

The door opens automatically.  I run out into blinding sunlight and bump into a passer-by.

"Sorry, sorry, so sorry."

"No harm done. Now look where you are going in the future."

Olympics 2012

 This story was written by my niece and included some superb photos, but I haven't worked out how to copy them from adobe. Help.

                                                                                  Oh Wow!!!

Before I even start my story, I must give my utmost thanks to Imad for letting me take a couple of

hours holiday, and to Bren for getting the tickets in the first place, and making one of my all time

dreams come true!!!!!

Mmmmmmm……….How to start?

Well, as you may know………………and if you didn’t before, you do now……….. I was born on 29th February, Leap Year, and as you are all aware 29th Feb only occurs once every four years, as does the Olympic games. Putting this together (I was only quite young at the time) I worked it out that if the Olympic games were only held every 4 years and that was in MY real birthday year then they must have been put on just for me. Perfectly logical when you think about it! Anyway, as this year (2012) is both my

real birthday year and the Olympic games are also being held; you see I am right!!!!!!!

Thursday morning, I dragged myself out of bed and after showering and dressing drove to work for

yet another long day at the office! Well, it should have been a long day at the office, but after

pleading with the boss I managed to prevail on his good nature and get him to let me take a couple of

hours holiday and so leave early for the day. Didn’t go quite as I’d planned but I did get home earlier

than usual, and after getting ready I drove round to Bren’s house to pick her up, for that evening we

were on our way for the BIG adventure…………………..we were going to London 2012 to watch the

Olympics!!!!!

Stuffing the car full of pillows rugs and other bits and pieces, we started our drive down to London

to meet with Bren’s nephew to pick the tickets up. We made good time and at obout 9 o’clock arrived

at Notting Hill for our meet. We did have look around whilst waiting for the nephew to arrive but

didn’t meet up with Julia Roberts nor Hugh Grant. We stood outside a church in the dark waiting for

the meet, two shady looking characters we must have looked. “I recognise that walk”, Bren suddenly

piped up…….we walked towards the man walking towards us……………..Nope………..it wasn’t the nephew, but it was a male, so at least she’d got that bit right! A couple of minutes later, out of the dark haze of the night (poetic license here!) we saw another figure looming out of the smog (OK so it was a

beautiful summers evening, it was in old London town!) Déjà vu……….” I recognise that walk” says a

voice beside me and all of a sudden, this young man with definite shades of the Williams gene walked

into view, an envelope in hand.

Hugs, introductions, more hugs and goodbyes and me, Bren and the tickets were on our way

Ohhhhhh Yes!……….…Tickets!……………

We made our way out of London and on to the M4 where we found the Heston Services. We had a

drink and some supper, whilst having supper, I made the most of the Free Wi-Fi and did a search to

see if we could find any Olympic Park tickets up for grabs. No such luck, but with tickets already

clutched in our grubby little mitts we didn’t really mind too much. By now it was gone midnight and so

with a very early start in the morning, we made our way back to the car to get some sleep. Yes, we

could have stayed at the Travelodge at the service station, yes, we could have stayed at any other

B&B, hotel or anywhere with friends or family……………….but Hey……..where’s the excitement in that,

when the alternative is to stretch out on reclining seats in the comfort of your own car! I always

sleep well in my car………………Hmmmmmpf……..not this time though! My restless legs were practising

for the Olympic high jump or long jump…….in fact, more like the triple jump! But eventually I got

comfortable and just started to doze off when a particularly spectacular ‘jump’ on the part of my left

leg started the car alarm off. Well Damn me…….I honestly never knew I had a car alarm…………..but at

least I know now! After a few minutes fumbling with the car keys, I managed to switch the thing off

and so settled down again for a night's sleep………………I would just like to say, that I know Bren said

she heard the alarm, but believe me, she never even twitched when it went off, same steady snoring

throughout!!!

A couple of hours later it was time to get up and start the BIG adventure of the day. We nipped

back into the service station and got a quick wash and then, with the excitement building, we drove on

to the start of our Olympic journey, Upton Court Park and Ride!

There were only about 50 cars in front of us so parking up was quite easy, we then got what we

wanted to take with us and made our way to the buses ready to take us to

for the Rowing.

After a short bus ride, one which when looking out of the side windows took us past Windsor Castle,

I did try to photo the castle, but not timing it very well I managed to photo clumps of trees…..well, I

never did claim to be a photographer!.........we arrived at Windsor Racecourse which was to be the

start of our walk to the Olympic grandstands.

The walk from the buses along the racecourse was our longest walk, but it was such a well organised

walk with volunteers cheerily calling good morning and thoroughly enjoying themselves it didn’t feel

long, and in the lovely early morning sun we wandered happily along seeing boats moored on the river,

and other bits and pieces including Wenlock, arguably he worst Olympic mascot ever designed!

Guess which was Wenlock?!?!?!?

We got to the food area about half an hour before the gates to the stands were opened (races

started at 9:30) so joined in with the huge queue and stood in line for breakfast baps.

Feeling much refreshed after our breakfast and with the gates now having opened, we made our way

into the viewing area, a short walk away. Here there were lots to see and do with more food and

drink stands, souvenir stands and other interesting things to look at, buy or do. I also feel it’s worth

a mention of how clean the whole site was/is and more importantly, the unbelievably clean loos. 10 out

of 10 there! Here are a few images of what we could see before we took our seats in the stands.

We took our seats in the Grandstand…………………and what seats…………..we were overlooking the finish line! Better seats just couldn’t have been found.

And then it was the start of the races. First up battling for 31st 32nd and 33rd place in the single

sculls were Niger, Cameroon and Tunisia. Niger came in last by over a minute and a half, but the

cheers that went up for him you’d think he’d won the gold medal. By the way, the diagonal line

running across the water is the finish line.

The next couple of heats for the single sculling went on, but then a cross wind got up, so they decided

to put a hold on the racing for half an hour, so we thought we’d stretch our legs a bit and go for a

walk along the whole course. Some of the races did take place whilst we were walking but we were

back in our seats for the Team GB Medals.

Our first medal came with a Bronze in the Men's Pairs, our men just being pipped into third place

It was now time for the BIG race of the day……….well, the BIG race of the day for Team GB anyway.

I can honestly say, that after this race, I wasn’t sure whether I’d just lost my voice from the

shouting, or whether I’d gone deaf from the cheering! What cheering there was. It was amazing, if you can imagine a 2 kilometres line made up of thousands of people and at the far end is the race

start, as the boats get under way, the cheering starts, it then works its way along the line rather like

a Mexican wave, until all of a sudden, the boats are in sight and are racing hell for leather to the

finish line, the cheering has now reached us, and the crescendo is phenomenal. What an experience,

if cheering and willpower alone were enough, every race would have been a gold medal for Team GB!!!

But for the big race to the victor goes the spoils and these girls deserved every bit of their gold medals!

And then, the very last race, the last heat of the men's single sculls, Team GB got another Bronze

medal. This time, I’m sure the cheering and shouting carried Alan Campbell over that line into third

place.

What an absolutely fantastic, magnificent……..words totally fail me to describe the experience of the

day. Why, oh why, did I decide when the tickets first came on sale, that they were too expensive

and that I didn’t want to spend that amount of money when I probably wouldn’t see anything anyway.

Who cares, the atmosphere makes up for all of that!!!!!

Just look at the crowds……….and who though patriotism was dead!

A HUGE thank you to my best mate of the moment BRENDA WILLIAMS

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