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What goes around – 2

March 29, 2021 in Life as we know it | Permalink

As promised in my last but one post – an anecdote with a strong element of nostalgia… for me at any rate.

Back in the day (promising start – though we need not concern ourselves as to exactly which day) I played in a variety of bands in and around London in the UK. My very first band – in which all concerned cut their teeth as musicians – stayed together for around eight years, which really is pretty good going first time out. Amongst our other achievements we became connected to a Young People’s theatre company for whom we were invited to write a musical… and then another… and another… By the end of the 70s we had played our part in the creation of three musicals – two of which had been taken to the Edinburgh Fringe.

By that time the band had reached the point at which it was clearly time to go our separate ways. As a farewell ‘tour’ we managed to land a week of gig bookings back in Edinburgh at the Fringe Club and a night Upstairs at Ronnie Scott’s in London. This was to be our swan-song.

Now, at that point there were two brothers in the band who both played keyboards, but who were – for reasons I do not now recall – unable to make the trip north. We decided to do that which bands in the UK were wont to do in such situations – we advertised in the Melody Maker for someone to fill in. The ad was answered by a keen young chap who will for the purposes of this piece go by the name ‘Dave’ (for that was his name!). He was young (about seventeen I think) and precociously talented. He was also a really nice guy.

He duly came to Edinburgh with us – played Ronnie Scott’s with us – was appropriately sad when everything came to an end and we resolved to stay in touch – the which for a while we duly did.

Now Dave had left school by this point and was looking for somewhere to work. As it happened I was a regular gawker (and occasional customer) at my local music shop in Surrey and one day I saw advertised there the position of keyboard salesman. I drew this to Dave’s attention; he applied and got the job.

The guitar salesman at the store was a chap called Gary. He was somewhat older than Dave and had ambitions in both production and to play in a band. He and Dave and a vocalist/bassist called Rod quickly started working together. They built themselves a small studio (a lot more difficult in those less technical days) and set about writing and recording. They attracted some interest and soon gained a publishing contract.

At about this time various other local bands started to avail themselves both of the studio and of Gary’s production talents. One of these outfits was a duo that went by the name ‘Go West’.

Now – this story is clearly going to make for quite a long post, so I think it best to split it here and to finish it off in what I promise will definitely be the very next post…

See you then…

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What goes around – 1

March 21, 2021 in Life as we know it | Permalink

It should perhaps be unsurprising in such times as these – that is, both when the winter is yet dragging its feet and noisily denying a platform to the incipient spring – and when the pernicious pandemic, still charging ahead at pretty near full throttle, keeps us cowering, heads well down, in our cardboard castles – that our thoughts turn to other and (in our memories at least) more gentle times.

Yes – it is for such ages that nostalgia was invented. This post (and quite possibly the next) will be devoted to the subject of just such wallowage (a word which appears in abundance on the InterWebNet but which may not be located within any dictionary as far as I can see).

At this point two years ago we were excitedly preparing for our last visit to the UK and to Europe (now, of course, sadly different things!). As that was to be our first trip back since moving to Canada in 2015 it is not surprising that revisiting old haunts and re-uniting with loved ones – both family and friends – featured prominently on the agenda.

Having done so within these postings on more than one occasion I am not about to recount yet again our doings on that trip but more to dwell upon the aftermath thereof… the echoes, should one prefer. I wrote at the time of the friends and family with who we had been re-united and I also waxed extremely lyrical concerning the long-lost contacts that were remade – particularly with those with whom I had at one point been fortunate enough to have created music or theatre.

Quite delightfully many of us who re-kindled associations on that trip are still in touch by one means or another – but mostly, it should be said, courtesy of the InterWebNet. Some keep in touch by email – some follow this blog (and on occasion respond thereto) and others have formed or joined the sort of online groups that may be used to share memories of people, places and events from our shared pasts.

Quite apart from the pleasures to be enjoyed by the recollection of the treasured memories that may thus be evoked this does give me – at least (though I suspect others also) – pause to consider just how rich were the experiences that we shared and the relationships that we formed. In my view we were – and still are – lucky, lucky people…

The next post will concern one of those odd little twists of fate that perhaps all lives throw up… (or perhaps not)!

On with the nostalgia…

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Time passes

February 3, 2021 in Life as we know it | Permalink

Time passes, and little by little everything that we have spoken in falsehood becomes true.

Marcel Proust

I receive a sharp reminder once a year of the passage of time… and in particular of the passage of time since I started writing this blog. That reminder comes in the form of the renewal demand from my hosting company for the pleasure of supporting my various websites – of which this blog was the first, having been created back in 2012. I started blogging at the end of January that year so now is the time that I must stump up in order that I may continue so to do.

For those gentle readers who don’t really get this whole blogging thing – there was a time when blogging was all the rage. That was the few years before I took it up, naturally, and by the time had I started keeping this journal the youngsters were already saying – “Blogging?… Nah!”

Now, of course, I am nearly a whole decade further behind the times – and you know what? – I really don’t care that I am old-fashioned. I am sixty seven, for goodness sake. I am allowed to be old fashioned.

For those of you who like statistics – in the nine years that I have been writing this blog I have written 925 posts (averaging just over 100 posts a year – approximately two a week). If the internal statistics are to be believed I have written nearly 365,000 words in that time and uploaded some 2,590 images – many of them my own photographs.

Not bad, huh?!

I started blogging when I learned that The Girl was going to take up a good job here in Victoria, even though I still needed to work for a few more years in the UK before I could retire and move to Canada to be with her. Faced with the prospect of carrying on a long distance relationship with an eight hour time difference I figured that I would need to find things to occupy my time (other than working!). When her job fell through and she came back to the UK some ten months later I decided to keep the blog going – documenting our eventual move to British Columbia, which was rescheduled for 2015.

I could have stopped once we settled here but I decided to keep it going – as a way of keeping a foot on both continents. I am blessed to have regular readers on both sides of the pond who seem happy to keep up with my chunterings.

Has the blog changed much? It is certainly less verbose than it used to be and I don’t reach for the thesaurus quite as much as once I did. I enjoyed getting to explore the language and to play little games with prose, but as I have grown older so have I started to keep things a little more simple – more straightforward. I have noticed that I do the same with song lyrics – which is no bad thing…

Having made it this far I will, naturally, be shooting for the complete decade.

After that – who knows?

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The Lark Ascending

December 13, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

My tastes in music are distinctly catholic; the same being true of both popular and classical repertoires. With regard to the latter I must admit to being a romantic (actually probably true in many spheres) – the which never quite sat right with more formal classicists like my father whose interests tended toward the mathematical rather than the emotional.

I make no apologies for that…

I have a particular passion for the composers of what might be considered the golden age of British music (contentious, I know – but not the main drift of this post) – the music of Elgar, Holst and Vaughan Williams all being dear to my heart. Given the relatively low esteem in which English composers are held in general by comparison with the greats of classical music I sometimes wonder just what it is about this music which touches my soul in ways that, say, Mozart and Beethoven – for all their acknowledged genius – do not.

Is there some musical chauvinism at work or could it really be that there is something in the music that captures an essence of (at least part of) the country and of its peoples?

I am – of course – far from alone in my appreciation for these works. The long running British radio program – ‘Desert Island Discs‘ – for which (often celebrity) guests choose the eight recordings with which they would care to be marooned on the fictive island of the title, noted that Vaughan Williams’ ‘The Lark Ascending‘ was one of the most frequently chosen pieces. Indeed – when the program ran a poll of its audience’s all time favourite recordings, ‘The Lark…’ came out on top.

The reason for my musing on this subject in the midst of a British Columbian winter is that I re-watched the other day a short BBC documentary from 2012 – hosted by the late Dame Dianna Rigg – on the subject of ‘The Lark…‘.

Vaughan Williams started work on the piece in 1914 just before the outbreak of the Great War, inspired by George Meredith’s poem of the same name. In the hiatus that ensued Vaughan Williams (who was 41 at the time) served as an ambulance driver in France and Salonika. After the war he re-visited ‘The Lark…‘ with the help of the English violinist, Marie Hall, to whom the piece is dedicated. The original version of the work – scored for solo violin and piano – was premiered in December of 1920 in conjunction with the Avonmouth and Shirehampton Choral Society, at Shirehampton Public Hall, not far from Bristol.

The main feature of the 2012 documentary was a re-creation of that first performance of ‘The Lark…‘ at Shirehampton Public Hall, with the young violin virtuoso, Julia Hwang, in the staring role. The audience comprised mainly good folk of what we might call ‘a certain age’ and as the piece progressed the camera lingered on individual faces so that the viewer might best measure the effect the the work has on those with familiar sensibilities. The audience did not disappoint and no British stiff-upper-lip could disguise their emotional response to the piece.

What struck me most was that at the time of the recording, Julia Hwang was a mere fifteen years old. How could one so young give a performance with such intense detail; laden with emotions of which she must a that age surely have been innocent?

Therein – I would humbly suggest – lies the formidable power of music…

 

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Sir Thomas Sean Connery

November 1, 2020 in Life as we know it | Permalink

Sean Connery

1930 – 2020

RIP


Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/skeeze-272447/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=394756">skeeze</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=394756">Pixabay</a>There is very little that can be said in addition to all that has been and will be printed on the subject of the sad passing of Sir Sean Connery. To those of us who grew up in the 1960’s he was an icon – a legend – a larger than life character who somehow managed to encapsulate the dreams and ambitions of that age… almost certainly without any intention of so doing.

There will be many lists of favourite or best performances: my two top Connery films – “The Man Who Would be King” (an incomparable pairing with Michael Caine) and – unsurprisingly – “Goldfinger”.

In later life even a minor cameo in some otherwise mediocre picture would almost inevitably imbue the project with an added sheen, a sparkle that it might not otherwise have deserved at all. And should you think this mere hyperbole – well, you may be right – but there was a world in which Sean Connery was alive… and now there is not.

A sad day…

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Ennio Morricone

July 7, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

Ennio Morricone

1928 – 2020

RIP

 

We are fortunate that – in this world and at this time – we are as a civilization blessed with a sizeable number of good composers of film and television soundtracks. A considerably smaller subset of that number may actually be counted amongst the great composers, whose works will outlast them.

There are – however – only a very, very small number who can rightfully be considered and lauded as geniuses…

…and – as of today – there is one less.

Much that need be known about the importance of Morricone’s scores (even those for films that in themselves scarcely merited such adornment) can be gleaned from the widely reported fact that parts of the scores for Sergio Leone’s initial trilogy of ‘Spaghetti Western’ films were recorded before the filming was started; the antithesis of usual practice. This was done so that Leone could use the music during filming as a backdrop against which to choreograph the action.

My personal favourites – which contain music that can move me to tears on any day, let alone one as sad as this – are the scores for “The Mission” (which was a huge influence on me) and for “Cinema Paradiso”.

I leave the gentle reader and the vagaries of Google to provide a suitable soundtrack to this posting.

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The Journey Home – 5

June 21, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam, Photos | Permalink

Well, here we are at the end of this short retrospective – one year on – of our 2019 trip to the UK and Greece. The Girl and I had a wonderful and memorable visit to Europe – a fine balance between spending time with loved ones and old friends, revisiting a bit of the old country and getting to wallow in glorious antiquity in a part of the world that neither of us had known well.

As is the way of such things, on our return to BC we immediately started thinking about and planning further excursions, little knowing that – along with everyone else – our future travel plans would all have to be put on ice for an indeterminate and possibly indefinite period.

The Girl and I loved Athens and you can read the notes of a year ago and view the photos that I posted here and here.

Finally – a few more images from those taken in Athens:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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The Journey Home – 3

June 8, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidHaving bid a fond farewell to my brother at the end of my second week (and The Girl’s first week) in the UK at around this time last year – and having at the same time reluctantly extracted ourselves from the slightly strange but delightful decadence of a mostly empty Oatland’s Park Hotel (for such it was, though I did not name it at the time), we set out on a short road trip to impose ourselves on the hospitality of lovely friends in Essex (Colchester), Kent (Sevenoaks) and Berkshire (Maidenhead).

A lesson that we learned from our trip as a whole – but from this segment in particular – was that though it was absolutely lovely to see again such a great number of those from whom we had been separated for at least the length of time that we had been resident in Canada… paying fleeting visits to them was never going to be enough.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

However generously and warmly we were received, entertained and generally spoiled rotten it was impossible not to feel that we had cheated these good folk out of the joys of our extended company. I say this not from any excess of ego on my (our!) part, but merely echoing the sentiments that they themselves repeatedly expressed (as well, of course, as our own feelings) at the point at which we had, reluctantly, to tear ourselves away and to move on to our next port of call.

I hope that my postings – then and now – have expressed adequately just how grateful we are for the amazing hospitality that we were shown by all concerned. Thank you.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

 

I looked back over the photos that I took on this part of the trip. I make a point – as any regular readers of these jottings will no doubt have noticed – of not uploading to the blog any pictures that identifiably include the people of whom I write (including myself, for which the gentle reader will be most grateful!). I do so as a point of principle; the matter concerning privacy. I extend my caution also to names and to other such detail. Not all bloggers adhere to such strictures. I do!

Sometimes however – as in this instance – I am as a result left a little short of interesting material with which to embellish my postings. In the case of our mini-tour I took photos of some of the lovely people with whom we stayed that must remain – and will remain – private.

Fortunately I, at least, get to look back at them…

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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The Journey Home – 2

May 31, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

If the first week of our epic jaunt to the UK and to Europe this time last year was all about me revisiting people and places that I had not seen for a goodly period – more than three decades in some cases – then the second week was about two things: visits with family and an opportunity for The Girl to catch up with those with whom she worked and played during her time in the UK.

Once we had enacted a joyful reunion at Heathrow airport (full details withheld to protect those of delicate sensibilities) The Girl and I boarded our hire car and navigated our way around the M25 to the town in which I grew up and where my brother still lives. It had been our intention to stay with him for the following week but as a result of the unforeseen circumstances detailed in this gripping blog episode we found ourselves rattling around a mostly empty grand hotel just down the road.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidNow – as it turned out this worked out particularly well for a number of reasons and we owed a great deal to my brother both in terms of smart thinking and also of massive generosity on his part (for he footed the bill!). Kudos!

Not only was the hotel a very good base for our excursions into Berkshire, Buckinghamshire and other nearby haunts where The Girl (and I in appropriate cases) was reunited with some of those with whom she had worked and some with whom she had become good friends (to the great joy of all concerned) but staying in a place with a bar and lounge that was open to service all day meant that those who had not been able to attend other gatherings could call by and one or other (or both) of us could spend a happy hour or so catching up with all of the news and gossip from the previous half decade or more. I was delighted to make connections anew with others from my musical and theatrical past and – as was the case with all of those whom we met throughout our stay – I was overwhelmed by the expressions of joy and love with which we were bathed.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWith regard to family it was good to see my sister and brother again – though in both cases we have in the interim been fortunate enough to have had visits from them in Canada. My brother and his Lady in particular went out of their way to entertain us and to ensure that our visit was a success. There was dining and quaffing – a boat trip to Hampton Court – a visit to the Victoria & Albert Museum (with lunch in the Members’ Room!) and much more. In short – they treated us royally and we were most grateful.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWe were quite sorry to leave our grand hotel but the third part of our expedition was to take us on a road trip around some parts of southern England to stay with other old and dear friends. More on that next time!

Before I go – the image below is of my alma mater’s boathouse, the which is on the bank of the river Thames opposite Hampton Court Palace. It is named the R. C. Sherriff Boathouse after one of the School’s famous alumni. The playwright had been a great sportsman, had rowed for the School and subsequently raised funds for rowing both at the School and for the nearby Kingston Rowing Club. On his death in 1975 his house – Rosebriars – was sold and the monies from the sale put into a trust to help support the arts in the district. The youth theatre with which I was associated benefited from these funds during the 90’s, which enabled us to commission a writer to create a new play for the group.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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The Journey Home – 1

May 22, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

“Oh, to be in England now that April ’s there
And whoever wakes in England sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England—now!”

Robert Browning – “Home thoughts from abroad”

OK – well it wasn’t actually April. It was the middle of May, though, and the effect was similar.

Last year the Kickass Canada Girl and I returned to the UK for the first time since we moved to Canada back in 2015. We felt that it was time to revisit the land that had been her home for more than a decade – and mine since birth!

For operational reasons we traveled a week apart. She had work to do so I left a week ahead of her with the intention of catching up with family and old friends – and of visiting some old haunts. I had been nervous before we set off. What would it be like – going back? Would anyone really want to see us or would they just be polite? Would things have changed too much? Would it make me terribly homesick?

The big takeaway from the first phase of our travels was just how lovely it was to see everyone again – and how much they all appeared to want to see us. This was a deeply moving and life-affirming experience that is even now really quite difficult to put into words. We were very touched and most grateful for the hospitality, the care and the love that we were shown everywhere.

These were for me the highlights of that first week:

  • Staying with old friends who just could not do enough to make me feel welcome – for which many thanks!
  • Re-visiting the School at which I had last worked. It was good to see my chaps again and to be shown round the building developments that had been completed since I left. I was most touched, however, by the number of staff members who – seeing me around the place – just wanted to say ‘Hello‘, to see how we were doing and to have a chat. What might have been a couple of hours visit rapidly became twice that length.
  • Visits to two particular old friends whom I had not seen for quite a while even before we left for Canada. Good to re-connect.
  • A trip to the Worcestershire/Herefordshire borders to stay with Oldest Friend and his wife. I had not seen their new home there and it was good to take a few days to catch up – and to revisit such a lovely part of the country.
  • Perhaps the most affecting of all – the reunion of band members and youth theatre friends from back in the 70s. This was a complete joy, not only because it had been arranged as a surprise (I did not know who would be there) but also because those present were clearly so delighted to see each other again – let alone to see me. Connections were re-established between those who had not met each other for multiple decades (some of which have been maintained since our visit). The very great pleasure that this gathering garnered was reflected later in our visit as I had the chance to re-meet further music and youth theatre friends from years gone by. More about that next time.

Finally, I should say that – though we are most fortunate in that we live in a beautiful part of the world and, of course, many other countries have their own particular attractions – there is something particularly Arcadian about the English countryside.  It was wonderful to be able to indulge in its joys once more. Herewith a few panoramas that attempt to capture that flavour. Double-click for a closer look…

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