Being a mum, being a daughter…

23 November 2024

It is Smallboy’s first performance with his university orchestra and my mum decides that she want to go and listen. The only problem … the 200 miles between us.

Bless Smallboy, he does like his music but I suspect that he may have auditioned for the symphony orchestra in his first term at university mainly to keep me happy. And so, when he mentions a first concert it is a no-brainer that I shall be going to listen but for my mum… well after two years of hospitals, operations and emergency trips to A and E, it feels like a big deal.

For this trip alone, my beleaguered mama announces that she is postponing her latest procedure. A cold dread grips my heart at the prospect of managing it all. Both  my brothers voice concerns and  I lose a few nights sleep driven to distraction by the thought of everything that could go wrong.

But, a small gift from heaven is heading my way. Prom dress daughter heads south for the weekend to lend a hand, exuding her cheery ‘can do’ calm.  I take a deep breath and resolve to put my worries aside. I book a suitable hotel, pump, charge up mum’s heated cushions, and purchase tickets in accessible concert-venue seats. Then, early on Saturday morning, facing the oncoming wrath of Storm Bert, we hit the M6.

And it goes really well. Yes we arrive like drowned rats – Storm Bert is so ferocious that even 2 minutes out of the car, for a quick pit stop, and we are soaked to our very skins. Yes it is a bit of a challenge getting ubers everywhere upon arrival and balancing extra cases, bags and accessories so that mum can concentrate on herself and her walking stick. Yes the interval small-talk with ex-hub and his latest new woman is a bit stilted. But, and it is a big but, those small details aside we have a blast.

Smallboy excels himself with fun restaurants for us all to eat at, plenty of wine is quaffed, the concert is glorious and … one of my favourite moments of all: the hotel bar.

Hotel bars – did you know they were such great places? I think it is where all the fun guests convene in the late night hours. It is, without question, the spot for the ones who are ‘up for a good time’  and know how to make the most of a weekend away.  And one of our party is definitely in that category. 

Is mum tired and ready for bed as we reach the hotel post-concert … hell no!

Let’s have a quick brandy in the bar first”

is her suggestion. So we hit ‘terrace bar’ on the elevator and stroll in to an amazing atmosphere. The friendliest of bar servers offers not only to bring our cognacs over but also to ‘warm them’. One ‘quick drink’ becomes two … then three and eventually, we all stumble, a little noisily, back to our room, knowing that we shall we sleeping like logs!

Of course, I am exhausted when we finally make it home the next day, after a grim drive through the torrential rain and gloom. And know it takes mum two of three days to recove. But are there any regrets … absolutely none! And here’s why.

When I began my blog I knew that time was ticking on my home, defined by me and my ‘three teens’, and I wrote to capture and cherish those dwindling years as a full time family of four. The truth of life, however, is that time is ticking on all our relationships.

Who knows if we shall be able to manage such a trip again, Our memorable weekend is a timely reminder that it is not just as a mum but also as a daughter, that I need to make time for fun, laughter and patience with all my loved one, because too soon will come a day when such chances run out…

Laughs, Lit and late night rehearsals..

Sunday 13 October 2024

Seriously, how did I ever manage to live life before I dropped to a 4-day week? This has been one busy weekend…

Friday night is dinner and drinks with some old colleagues and it makes me realise, a little sadly, how much less I laugh in my new place of work.

Is the job I have now easier?

Yes!

Is it less stressful?

Yes!

But, and as it turns out it is a big but,

Do I now have, bestie work buddies….?

Alas, I do not. Of course I do not, I have only been there for 7 weeks, whereas I worked for for 14 years in my previous post. And over that long stretch of time, you make some fantastic friendships. You have doors you can knock on, for a rant, a cry or…most importantly the chance to double up with laughter and shake with mirth until tears run down your face. And I don’t think I had realised how much I had missed that and how important it was to me until we arrange our meet up. We share a little wine, we eat good food, swap stories and have a great catch-up.

Saturday, I head to Ilkley and my second trip to the famous literature festival, which really is an incredible event. In the local churches and school halls of this small Yorkshire town, fine writers and many celebrity names, rub shoulders with us mere mortals to give talks about their latest publications. This years’ programme included: Jodi Picoult, Kate Atkinson, Julian Clary, Gyles Brandreth, Prue Leith, John Suchet, Carol Ann Duffy… and Teresa May!

We have tickets for a cricketing talk and Paul Sinha… yes, the guy from ‘The Chase’ and dodge the showers to grab quick coffees and rushed nachos as we hop from one location to another. Its fun, the speakers are engaging and witty and it makes for a great day out.

Sunday, I dash about doing some chores and straightening up the homestead before setting the SatNav for Preston. I have a late night rehearsal, the final one in a trilogy of madness, preparing for a concert next weekend. Three long hours, 7pm to 10pm, has been a killer on a Sunday night and, as a I eventually drive home, the windscreen wipers going nineteen to the dozen as they battle the torrential rain, it is cold and dark and I am a weary woman. But a happy one too.

After all, whats a weekend for… if not for living life to the full…

Play List for Life

Friday 20 September 2024

I hear about, National Playlist Day, on the radio this morning. It is a UK-wide online event, that celebrates the power of music for people with dementia. The event encourages people to share a song from their past on social media using the hashtag #NationalPlaylistDay. So what song(s) would we all pick? What are the tracks that instantly transport us back to a former place or time? Here are some of mine…

Panic’ by the Smiths whisks me back to the Summer of 1986 where, with two of my friends, I had discovered the Hacienda night club. Here the dress-code was free and easy, everyone danced all night and this track…well this track made the whole place go wild. Manchester seemed like the coolest city on the planet and being young and free, well that felt as if it would last forever.

Steve Wonder’s ‘Superstition’, gosh for so many reasons my favourite pop song, but one of these is certainly that it reminds me of University and the much loved cellar disco. A Monday night staple for students in our college. Do some work then simply stumble down the steps of ‘The Cellar’ for beer, a catch-up and a dance. So simple, so perfect…why is life no longer this good?

Tracey Chapman was the soundtrack to my 5 month trip around South East Asia. Something about her soulful, emotive lyrics must have suited the fruit muesli backpackers of Yogyakarta and Kuta Beach back in the late 1980s. I bought the album from a street seller while I was over there (and still have it) ‘Baby can I hold you…‘ ‘Fast car...’ , they come on the radio and I am transported back to another continent.

Proud Mary – the Tina Turner classic. This one makes me howl with laughter. The occasion, a colleague’s wedding. The laughing-until-we- cried? My dreadful dancing; swaying about in a world of my own, devoid of any rhythm or connection to either the music or anyone else on the dance floor … all immortalised for ever on a colleague’s phone video and on the leaving card they made for me.

I turn to think about family. Music and my parents – so many pieces remind me of them, but this song, by Steven Sondheim, is my favourite memory. I can still see them singing it together in the kitchen; those lyrics are just so beautiful, and the moment was just so lovely,

The sun comes up, I think about you
The coffee cup, I think about you
I want you so, it’s like I’m losing my mind
……

But I’ll finish with my children, we share countless silly songs that make me laugh out loud but my three song picks take me back to specific moments and places, that I can still picture as if I were there.

‘Your Song’ was voted the nation’s favourite Elton John hit in a recent poll. For me however, it was hearing Euan Magregor sing it in Moulin Rouge that really put it onto my radar. The year I saw this movie was 2002, the same year as my first child was born. Hearing it now reminds me of singing it to her in our lounge, as I tried to rock her to sleep, the lyrics just perfect for the arrival of such an amazing little person in our lives.

‘Fix you‘ is my tune for Prom-dress daughter and she would know why. We’d both be back in the car on a Saturday morning, after Music Centre, queuing for the car wash with me trying (and failing) for the umpteenth time to learn the harmonies in the chorus. Much laughter and, from such a ordinary moment, such joyful times.

And I finish with Smallboy. Nat King Cole was blasting from the radio in the delivery suite when he was born. ‘Let there be Love’  Its a terrific tune and when I hear it now I recall, with a smile how I, high as a kite on gas and air stood up, resembling a magnificent beached whale, to perform this number for the astonished midwife, using a mouthpiece as a microphone.

Music … truly one of life’s great gifts. Whether it’s for a future playlist when ill, or just for the sheer fun of it, take a trip down memory lane and think about the songs that you’d put on yours …

And all that jazz…

Sunday 26 May 2024

Jeanette Winterson’s recent FT article celebrates Manchester as an ‘unquenchable city“, a place of spirit, energy and “magic” and on Sunday night , I soak up a little of the razzle dazzle with a trip to Band on the Wall to see the iconic and extraordinary Courtney Pine.

The gig, the final event in the Manchester Jazz festival 2024, is wild and exuberant. Pine is a legendary figure and his virtuosity is breathtaking. The band, featuring steel drums, and guitars as well as the traditional jazz staples of bass and piano, blend reggae & hip-hop with classical jazz in a set that exudes energetic, musical passion. But more than this, Pine is also a great showman. His rapport with the packed venue is confident and bold. The audience are encouraged to fill their glasses with rum; to party with commitment … and it all leads to an evening of great fun and, to steal one of Pine’s own mottos, ‘unity’.

And if I can stretch that unity word into… ‘United’, a weekend of celebrations in our household actually begins on the Saturday with an FA cup final that nobody is expecting…

Small boy has been working really hard for his A’ levels and on Saturday mornings asks if he can have the afternoon off to watch the match with some friends

Oh and mum…can we ‘host’?

As supporters from the red side of Manchester we are a beleaguered bunch this season and our FA cup opponents, local rivals and all-round superstars Manchester City are anything but! Nonetheless, my son deserves a break, he assures me that as soon as the match is over he’ll be back to his Physics flashcards and so we stock up on the Guinness and get ready for the arrival of ‘the boys!’

And this afternoon the unimaginable happens… United pull off a 2-1 victory and … gosh the extra-time minutes are tense and tortuous but as that final whistle blows, our lounge explodes with joy. Physics flash cards are put on-hold for a celebratory trip into town,

Don’t worry though mum, I’ll be back by about 9pm and get back to some revision then!” shouts Small boy as he disappears out of the door

At around 1:15 am, when my Eldest child, who is home for the Bank Holiday weekend, comes in from a night out with friends, I learn that my son is actually at a Cricket Club several miles away!

He is ordered home but it is difficult to be too cross and I tell myself that, after 14 years living up here, maybe Winterson’s indefatigable, mancunian spirit has left its mark on my youngest child,

“Manchester is a city that thinks a table is for dancing on.”

Mark Radcliffe, quoted in Jeanette Winterson on Manchester, ‘the unquenchable city’

Orange wine?

Saturday 21 October 2023

Red, white rose or …orange?

Step outside your usual comfort zone and who knows what you will discover? For me, over the last few days it was French composers, the evolution of dolphins from land-living mammals and … the titular orange wine!

My voyage of discovery begins on Thursday with a French soiree of chamber music, cheese and (very red) wine! Music, alcohol plus a generous helping of brie and camembert… quite frankly what’s not to love? And it is a terrific evening. Have I hit the jackpot with a companion who is ‘happy to drive’? It certainly is a treat to indulge in a second interval-glass of Bordeaux! Even so, the icings on this particular ‘gateau’ are the short and well-crafted talks we get about each piece of music. I learn about neo-classicism, le prix de Rome and the fact that, even in the 20th Century, some female composers still chose to write with male pen names. One such was Louise-Marie Simon (30 November 1903 – 7 March 1990), published as Claude Arrieu,

Employing a common response to the pervasive sexism that has hobbled women’s careers across
time, Louise Marie Simon adopted a pseudonym: Claude Arrieu. Although she did not hide her
use of this pen name, it smoothed the path for publication of her music and facilitated
professional advancement.

Printed in programme notes for Kansas Symphony Orchestra 2021

Rediscovering how much I enjoy gaining new knowledge bodes well, as half-term dawns and I drive over to Yorkshire to catch up with family and also to attend the Ilkley Literature Festival. This epic event is celebrating its 50th anniversary and features talks by many famous names from the world of writing, broadcasting and research. It also has a perfect setting. Ilkley is a bustling spa town crowned as the ‘best place to live in the UK’ by the Sunday Times in 2022, and I can vouch that the plethora of bars and eateries is an absolute delight.

So we mix talks with plenty of food and beer. As we emerge from the final presentation, about the physics of the deep ocean, my mind is scrambled with Humboldt currents, the politics of guano (bird poo) and the revelation (for me at any rate) that some sea-based creatures evolved from land-based hoofed mammals, and we decide that a final glass of wine is in order.

And that’s when it happens. I am asked if I want,

Red, white, rose or …orange wine?

Orange wine… orange? Maybe I’m just late to this vino-party, but who knew? I ask what it is and learn that it is white wine made with ‘skin contact‘.

“As in orange skin?”

chirps in one of my beer-ed up companions. The patient sommelier smiles as he tells us

No, the skin of the grape!

Only I am bold enough to try it and I like it … though if blindfolded, in a taste test, am not sure I’d be able to distinguish it from a regular white. Maybe I should try a few more and The Olive Magazine, is on hand to guide the fledgling orange wine supper!

All in all, a fantastic few days. Good food and drink, great company and the chance to learn (and taste) new things … my idea of perfect!

Getting life in perspective …

Sunday 23 October 2022

My mum has her first surgery and comes home to recover. It is not the end of the story. Hey this is the big C, is it ever going to be the end of the story? But for now; just right now, before Tuesday’s hospital visit and next Monday’s operation results, the cloud that has defined the last few weeks lifts and I feel… happy!

Yes, not just ‘okay‘, the luke-warm version of wellbeing I often settle for, but actually properly happy. My mind is only lightness, my mood upbeat, and all the little things in life seem joyful.

I do nothing special with the weekend. On Saturday, I run with my run buddy. Small boy and I hang out in the garden hot tub, putting the world to rights. I cook curry for my mum and drink some (appalling) fizz a work colleague gave me mid-week. On Sunday, we take the tram into town to shop Dinner Jackets for a family wedding, mooch around the music stores and browse the book shops. The Squares are decorated with dainty Halloween lanterns. We dine on Pad Thai noodles, steak sandwiches and terrible pies and … it feels fantastic!

I guess it’s relief, a welcome respite from the stress and worry of the previous weeks. Or possibly one of those profound pauses in life when you (momentarily alas) cast aside the trivia that often takes up so much our time and focus instead on the things, and most importantly, the people who really matter. ‘Getting life in perspective’, I think it’s called. Well for however long it lasts…I am going to enjoy it…

A soundtrack for the Summer…

Monday 22 August 2022

Well, I may not have stepped onto a plane this August but I have certainly covered a few miles! Well done to Windsor, my trusty Toyota, for doing most of the work and hip hip hooray for ‘Heart 80s‘; pumping out nostalgic tunes from the car dashboard and providing the perfect soundtrack for the holiday season…

Heart 80s … why so perfect? Because, as I look back on the last 4 weeks, I realise that I have spent an awful lot of it with those I first met in… the 1980s! Just the sort of symmetry to make my mathematical mind happy and to inspire me to write this week’s post as an ode to some of my oldest pals…

First stop; dear university friends (known since the mid 80s) in the North East. Here we ‘make it a night to remember‘ in the pub quiz followed by a day of drinking ‘red red wine,’ and also sampling the fizzy, white and rose varieties at an organic wine tasting. We ‘walk this way‘ and that way and many miles through the glorious local countryside, where the fields of corn, barley and wheat just take my breath away. And finally, be it a ‘green door‘, brown door or even a solid steel fortification, nothing and I mean nothing, is stopping one very competitive friend from breaking it down in a determined quest to wrestle us out of an Escape Room within the allocated hour!

After several happy days, I head home whereupon, accompanied by a fellow classmate from sixth form (slightly earlier mid-80s) we go ‘running up that hill‘ and also wrapping ourselves in 4 sets of blankets to watch an exuberant but unspeakably chilly outdoor production of Midsummer Night’s Dream at a local riding centre. Whilst I would recommend the incredible Illyria theatre company without hesitation, I could almost swear I heard the Bard himself chuckle ‘Oh Lord what fools these mortal be!‘ as the wind freezes hands to the point where picnickers dare not even release them from the safety of rugs and jumpers to hold a glass of prosecco !

Thereafter however, comes the heat. Aside from a brief flit to Middlesborough (furniture drop for my Eldest) and a trip to sunny Stratford for Promdress daughter’s birthday, the ‘long hot summer‘ just passes us by, in a sweltering week of deckchair basking and ‘cool pool’ froth in the garden not-so-hot tub.

And before long, my next visitor arrives, a teacher training bestie from the late 80s. Now ‘girls just want to have fun and that is exactly what we do. Courtesy of this sunniest of Summers we are able to sit out until late to drink and chat and also spend a delicious day in the bars and cafes of Manchester.

But then….‘C’mon‘ calls Windsor ‘It’s time for me to hit the road again!’

Indeed it is! Nicknamed a ‘long distance lorry driver‘ by one witty amigo, on account of my holiday travels, I find time to whirl along the motorway to deposit Small Boy in Wales and then set the satnav for ‘a town called ...‘ London! Yes; I drive to London – eek! I am terrified. I am bamboozled. I am ‘ultra low emission zone’ charged and navigationally challenged. I have nightmares about taking a wrong turn and seeing the monopoly board come to life from my car window.

But with the trains on strike it is the only way for me to catch-up with great uni friends, some of whom I have not seen for over 5 years. So I go for it, get there in one piece and then enjoy ….

I am a ‘west end girl‘ with lunch and a mini-reunion at the elegant Wolseley in Piccadilly plus a stroll around a (very brown) Green Park. Then it’s the cultural delights of the Southbank; ‘Surrealism Beyond Borders‘ at Tate Modern before an afternoon at the Globe for my second dose of Shakespeare this Summer.

My final day veers a little more off the beaten track at Trinity Buoy Wharf. We go primarily to hear the ‘Long Player‘ a 1000 year piece of music composed by Jem Finer, once of the Pogues. Not only did my friend and I see the Pogues (together) at Glastonbury back in 1986, but I further relish in coincidences, realising that, by utter chance, it was also a location used in the Netflix film, Rogue Agent, which I watched with the teens just 4 days earlier… spooky! The site is even more than Long Player too, with arty workshops, a museum honouring Faraday, who conducted experiments in electric lighting for lighthouses there in the nineteenth century, the Floodtide music installation plus one of the quirkiest cafes I’ve stopped at for quite some time. A terrific find.

And it is there that my August 2022 travels end. Windsor and I point the compass north and we duo of Wild Rovers speed merrily up the motorway home.

Great times, great company, great 80s soundtrack, great Summer …

Beethoven, Mozart … and bliss…

Saturday 12 March 2022

After a stuttering start back into the post-covid world of music, I am finally fully part of a great concert…

The invite to play pops into my email inbox about 3 weeks ago. Not only a concert night, but also a pretty intensive schedule of rehearsals in the preceding week. I hover with indecision. Work is manic; the weather is grim and Small boy has mocks . Yet, something makes me say ‘yes’ and I am so glad that it does because … I love every minute of it.

Of course it is crazy careering out for 7 -10 pm rehearsals after a ten-hour day at work. Of course parking in a large town centre is (for me) a flustering fiasco of QR codes and scanners. Of course I often don’t find time to eat and arrive at the hall shovelling down handfuls of Walker’s crisps whilst dealing with text messages from all and sundry. But, when I do finally sink into my seat on the stage all of that stops. The orchestra is a really good one and the three hours of rehearsal time are intense, absorbing and a complete escape from the world outside.

So; the wind may be howling. Small boy may need someone to ‘test me on Chemistry’. Boris the gecko may need a new UV light and some fresh crickets. I may have lessons to plan on the cosine rule. But between the hours of 7pm and 10pm, all of this noise fades away and my focus is taken totally with phrasing and shaping the symphonies of Beethoven and Mozart into beautiful music. And it is bliss!

Bliss to know that I have given time to a real piece of me this week. Bliss to be challenged and pushed to think about how every note is placed and played. And bliss, to have shut out the clamour of the every-day for a few hours to be part of melody, music and creativity. As one article, 10 reasons to join an orchestra, outlines,

Life is full of daily stresses. Work, family, bills, and other responsibilities can take their toll. Playing in an orchestra, on the other hand, requires a great deal of focus. For that reason, rehearsals and concerts can be a great way to divert your attention away from day-to-day troubles, stress, and to-do lists

The final concert is amazing. The audience clap and cheer the climatic Symphony and an emotional rendition of the Ukrainian national anthem.My mood soars. I feel happier and calmer than I have done for weeks. I am ready for the manic week ahead and, even more so, ready to say ‘yes’ to the next concert I am offered…

A New Year … with some blasts from the past!

15 January 2022

This is my first post of 2022, so

Happy New Year!

Uncharacteristically however, I find myself a little out of sync with the advent of this novel chapter of life. As the seasonally resolute launch into fresh starts, new regimes and forward thinking with enthusiasm, I spend much of my initial fortnight taking a trip down memory lane…

See the source image

Well, quite frankly, no-one could blame anyone for wanting to retreat from the jaw dropping January chaos of Boris’ unbelievable Britain! News channels and social media can scarcely keep apace with all the scandal and speculation: Downing Street parties, sozzled civil servants, surging omicron cases, disgraced royal princes and rocketing energy prices. It feels like utter madness and misery, which why, were this the catalyst, I know that I’d be forgiven for looking wistfully back to a simpler time when I was young and wrapped up with friends, boyfriends and schoolwork. Back in a bygone century, with only 4 channels on the TV, not a mobile phone in sight and at an age when I was only half aware of anything that was happening out in the wider world.

But the reality is that I don’t find myself reliving some of my past because of any of this. No, it is all far more straightforward! I am contacted unexpectedly by some-one I went to college with; whom I have not seen or heard from for over 30 years. How exciting! We re-live classes, teachers, social exploits and gatherings (some of which I can only dimly recall.) And it is fun. So much so that I decide to really wallow in girlhood nostalgia and challenge Alexa to bring back the soundtrack of my youth.

Now, I spent most of my late teens, clad in black leggings and Ts, lying on my bedroom floor listening to The Smiths, convinced that Morrissey was the only person on the planet to truly understand me. A champion of teen angst he may well have been, but for an aging mother of three, Mozzer wailing through the house is a bit of a mood killer, so I wind the clock forward a few years and go for Alanis Morissette instead. And that is much more like it!

“And what it all comes down to. Is that everythin’s gonna be quite alright.”

I warble along lustily, dancing around the kitchen making tea; I feel fantastic. My chance re-acquaintance may have reminded me that I was once under 25, but the music … I swear that it actually takes me back to an age when I was carefree and finding my way in the world. Maybe it does? In at number 4, on Saga’s Top ten ways to feel instantly young again’, is voyaging down memory lane by looking at old photos or listening to music from that time. Similarly, Wes Baines in an article outlining how youth is defined by ‘action not age‘ suggests that,

“Looking back at your life doesn’t have to remind you of what you’ve lost—it can remind you of what you still have. It’s easier than you think to slip back into that youthful mindset when you surrounded yourself with music and photos and loves from that time of your life.”

I can certainly recommend it as an uplifting hour, if nothing else. Further, I venture a tentative ‘yes’, that a 1980s/1990s kitchen disco brightens my outlook a little and helps me start to look ahead to the new year, with some of the ambition, hope and optimism that I had all those years ago. We shall see… and in the meantime, Alanis certainly knows how to write a great song…

You live, you learn
You love, you learn
You cry, you learn ….

You Learn : Alanis Morissette

Who plays a concerto 6 weeks after giving birth?

Tuesday 28 July 2020

Windsor, our trusty Toyota, is driven away for his first set of repair jobs this week and, as a result, we find ourselves stationary for a few days. In many ways, it feels like a flashback to early Lockdown. We paint the bathroom. We redesign the conservatory. We auction old furniture on Ebay; our first ‘non-cot’ bed becomes ‘my own big bed‘ to another child; the kitchen table is signed up for a very glamorous new life at a Night Club in town! There is one difference however, I finally put up a music stand and tootle some oboe notes …

Usually, I’d battle through the parts for my nearest concert. But, as Covid-19 has ruled out all rehearsals since March, I have to dig into my older folders and my past repertoire. And I find The Bach Double Concerto for Oboe and Violin. Oh what memories! This is the first full concerto I ever performed in public and it took place 6 short weeks after Small Boy was born!

If you are an expectant, first-time, musical mum, do not try this! It was utter madness. But Small Boy was not my first child, he was my third. Additionally, in over 3 decades of living at the time, no-one had ever invited me to play a concerto before. It was just too good an opportunity to miss.

I was in the very early, unannounced stages of pregnancy when the unsuspecting conductor offered me the job. I agreed enthusiastically, my outward face a picture of smiles and assurance. On the inside, my mind a whirlwind of rapid, mental arithmetic, trying to fathom whether or not I’d be tootling my part in the concert hall or from the Delivery Suite itself! Of course I worried about being too tired. Of course I questioned my sanity. But I recall being cheerfully egged on by my mum,

There’s no avoiding tired; the choice is tired and happy or tired and miserable!

And so I did it. I worked like a demon right up to the day my waters broke, juggling my job, two toddlers and Bach with, at times grim, determination. I allowed myself 2 weeks off, when we first brought Small Boy home and then, as he marked his 15th day in this world, I resumed daily practice. The moment ex-hub crossed the threshold from work, I would hand over care of three under 5s and vanish to the back room for an hour of playing.

It didn’t matter that the violinist was a precocious 17 year old virtuoso. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t fit into any concert clothes, (my lovely mum bought me a roomy soloist-style sparkly top). It didn’t matter that I was completely shattered. I powered through with adrenaline and joy, reaping the benefits of all the pre-birth practice regime. The performance was terrific. It also led to tons of other gigs and concerto offers; my golden era of oboe playing.

Today, as I stumble thought the notes, I realise how much my technique and stamina have deteriorated over the last 15 years, particularly since moving North. Nonetheless, I find myself wondering,

Do I have another concerto in me?’

Hey, I’m the woman who performed her first concerto less than 2 months after giving birth so, to this or indeed other new challenges, … never say never…