Are you sitting comfortably? Then we’ll begin.
“In a time then and now/In a place far and near/In a world of which old stories tell/A land cradled in light―/Sun by day, moon by night―/Is held safe under summer’s sweet spell”. This is Summerland, where The Song of the Silent Child is set. The eponymous Silent Child is despised in this land of perpetual happiness, and it isn’t until she meets Old Mother Love, the Crone/wise woman who is dying, that the Child learns who she is: “’You go by (more…)
Well, this is exciting and scary in about equal measure. (There seems to be a lot of that in what the afternoon knows.)
I’m putting this up in case any of you might be interested in coming along. On Saturday 12th October one of the choirs I sing in is putting on the first (I’m trying not to say only!) performance of a piece which I have co-created: what the composer is calling a “dramatic cantata”, for which I have written the libretto. I’ve never done anything like this before and it’s all quite odd: I saw my name on a poster in the town centre the other day and wanted simultaneously to leave the country and also to take a selfie in front of it (and as you can imagine, I’m not normally a selfie girl. I compromised by taking a picture of the poster). I’ll have more to say when it’s officially a Thing, of course, but it would be lovely to see any wtak readers, their friends, and other singers, along to support us (those of you who are not already in it, of course!). Eeeeeek!
See you there…?
Poetry: ‘what makes the invisible appear’ (according to Nathalie Sarraute); ‘the revelation of the self to the self’ (Ted Hughes).
Hope: a feeling of expectation and desire for a particular thing to happen.
Fear: an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm.
Ambivalence: the state of having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas about something or someone.
As we all know, Her Royal Perkiness Queen Julie reaches for her favourite things when the dog bites, when the bee stings, and when she’s feeling sad.
Bee-wise, I’ve been fine. But I did get nipped by a dog the other week—one of those tiny jobs, all hair and needle teeth, about 5 inches tall and clearly feeling it had a lot to prove—and generally (more…)
When I was 6 or 7, my Dad returned from a trip to Germany bringing me the most wondrous packet of felt pens I’d ever seen. They were double-ended, with a fat end for colouring large areas and a pointy end for detail. Forget previously-desirable Platignum and Pentel: in early-70s Aberdeen, this was serious Blue Petering kit. This was love.
Soon after, I announced that I wanted to be an opera singer when I grew up. Opera singers came from Germany (of course), so this would be the way (more…)