Sing a Song of Haydn's

That’s what we, the Stewkley Singers, were going to do this May. We had been rehearsing Haydn’s Nelson Mass since January, had covered just about all the movements, then wham-bam lockdown cam’, and rehearsals and the concert were cancelled.

At the time, I felt it was “a shame” but nothing worse. I was too busy enjoying the crystal clear, azure-blue, quiet skies because of the delicious lack of aircraft, and relishing the empty roads whenever I drove to Milton Keynes to visit my elderly mum. The town almost looked appealing.

I also staved (get it?) off the boredom by Skinking with friends (that’s Skyping with a drink in hand), participating in zoomed meetings, tuning in to informative webinars, gardening, walking, eco-agitating (didn’t I ever thus) and, of course, scribbling stuff (I won’t dignify it with a more complimentary expression) for my blog. The downsides of lockdown for me included my gardener self-isolating and my hairdresser closing. It’s no coincidence that I focused on these two because my hair often looks like my potentilla. In fact, when everyone else was panic-buying toilet roll and flour, I was loading up on conditioner and hair spray.

The lack of singing was also tempered by the Singers’ secretary, Ron, keeping the social momentum going by circulating jokes, quizzes, messages, and recordings, plus there was the odd zoomed get-together, sometimes singing, sometimes just drinking and chatting, but always at a time when I was busy. At least I knew that my singing mates were “there”, wherever that might be.

I only realised how much I missed singing and the Singers when Ron circulated a recording of the Kyrie Eleison from Mozart’s Requiem. It was gorgeous. Not perfect, but confidently delivered, full of energy and passion, coming in together, ending a phrase precisely. Gave me goosebumps. I wondered who the choir was. It was us! The Stewkley Singers from our May 2018 concert! How on earth did Jenny, our Music Director, get us to sing like that? She’s a miracle worker. I was so proud that I had contributed to such a glorious sound. In fact, a friend of mine in another choir said she could hear me amongst the altos. Hmm not sure about that, but if I listened hard enough, I could imagine I could hear my voice (during the really good bits, naturally).

So now I really really miss singing, and I dread how long it us until our December concerts. Until rehearsals start again, I’m having to sing-a-long-a Classic FM, even if I don’t know the words or the alto line. Not such a glorious sound. But it still releases the endorphins. Once or twice I’ve noticed I’m singing to myself while pruning the roses or curling my hair.

Seems to repel the greenfly and dandruff, so who’s complaining?

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