My hobby is collecting (and attempting to play) musical instruments.
I just finished making a list of them and thought I'd share it with you -
Tuneable "D" Tony Dixon tin whistle
Low D" Tony Dixon tin whistle
Two "D" tin whistles
"C" tin whistle
6-hole wooden whistle
Plastic flute
7-hole wooden whistle / recorder
Treble recorder
Chalameau (half clarinet, half recorder)
9 descant recorders
14-string wooden cymbala (small zither)
16-string wooden cymbala
red wooden 38-string zither (modern copy of Victorian original)
large wood zither
Mini English "Gremlin" concertina
English concertina
Accoustic solutions electronic keyboard
rollup electronic keyboard
Small Casio electronic keyboard
Farfissa electronic keyboard
Mini stylophone
Stylophone
Elecronic chord organ
Chromatic mouth organ
Casio pink electronic keyboard
Melodica Student 26 (old design)
Wooden melodica
Casio CTK481 electronic keyboad
panpipes
Casio SA75 electronic keyboard
"PLay on" electronic keyboad
3 mouthorgans
"Smash hiits" electronic keyboard
Hohner "Fire" melodica
Plastic melodica (partly broken)
Hohner melodion
Chanson "toy" accordion
Pink ukele
Polished-wood ukele
MC36 electronic keyboard
large "Play on" keyboard
Bontempi red melodica
electronic drum-pads set
clarinet
Lyre - 12-string
12-string lap harp
Yamaha keyboard in brown case
blue metallic zither
3/4 size guitar
Yama PSS140 keyboard
Yamaha "Music station" keyboard
Large yamaha keyboard
I may have got a bit carried away with my collecting !
Tuesday, 23 September 2014
Tuesday, 26 August 2014
Sidmouth Folkweek 2014
I recently returned from my annual visit to Sidmouth folkweek. I've been going for about 20 years now and it's the highlight of my year (why would I want to holiday anywhere else /?)
Sidmouth is a small (usually quiet) town on the Devon coast in southern England. For one week a year the entire place rings with folk music - Morris dancing on the promenade, "scratch" orchestras in the council offices and rugby clubs, dance workshops and instrument-playing lessons everywhere, concerts in the pubs - and buskers wherever they can make themselves heard , even in the churchyard (which always worries me a bit - exactly what might applaud ?!)
There's a river (the "Sid") which runs through the town,with a shallow ford at one point. On the last afternoon, there is always an unofficial barn-dance in the ford. It has no organiser and is never advertised because if anyone drowned they'd be sued (though the water is two inches deep at most !)
but various people bring instruments (some even play the same tune !), a few dozen dance in the stream, while several hundred stand around watching and getting in the way of each others' cameras.
Here's a link to some youtube videos - more to come -
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCYQ5ZjAFNvdpoo99ykvS48w/videos
Sidmouth is a small (usually quiet) town on the Devon coast in southern England. For one week a year the entire place rings with folk music - Morris dancing on the promenade, "scratch" orchestras in the council offices and rugby clubs, dance workshops and instrument-playing lessons everywhere, concerts in the pubs - and buskers wherever they can make themselves heard , even in the churchyard (which always worries me a bit - exactly what might applaud ?!)
There's a river (the "Sid") which runs through the town,with a shallow ford at one point. On the last afternoon, there is always an unofficial barn-dance in the ford. It has no organiser and is never advertised because if anyone drowned they'd be sued (though the water is two inches deep at most !)
but various people bring instruments (some even play the same tune !), a few dozen dance in the stream, while several hundred stand around watching and getting in the way of each others' cameras.
Here's a link to some youtube videos - more to come -
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCYQ5ZjAFNvdpoo99ykvS48w/videos
Friday, 18 July 2014
The following is autobiographical but I've written it in the third person as I am no longer the girl in the story.
The day that the circus left town
The girl was thirteen and puberty had started, but she was shy and young for her age, with life still centering round home, with her protective parents and younger brother, plus school and girl-guide meetings, Life was safe, had always been safe, and she hadn't ever had reason to think it wouldn't always be that way.
They weren't rich, but as far as the girl knew, her parents hadn't any particular money worries.
Life was much the same as always. It was a quiet dead-end and in summer the children played in the road and ran in out of each other's gardens - sometimes swimming in or canoeing on the nearby river.
The local idea of crime was pinching flowers from a neighbours' garden, which got you a nasty scolding followed by a forced public apology. In winter kids crowded chattering into bedrooms, sheds or playrooms. The business of having to wear a bra was a bit odd, but still world was safe, normal, usual.
The christmas after the girl turned 13, grandma came to stay (father's mother, her mother's parents were already dead). There was a slight tension in the air as mum and grandma had never really got along (grandma saw mother as slightly lower-class, which puzzled the girl and her brother), however this was normal too and the two women kept their differences to the odd muttered grumble.
The girl had always enjoyed her grandma's company, partly because grandma used to hide tiny penny toys around her house for children to find.
It was two days after Christmas and grandma was planning to leave next day. It was breakfast time and by chance the girl was the only one around when grandma came out of her bedroom). The old lady was in her eighties, but had always moved steadily, so the girl was confused to see that grandma was struggling to walk and couldn't manage to come down the stairs. She promptly ran up the stairs, and supporting her grandmother firmly, helped her to the kitchen door.
"Promise me you won't tell anyone" said grandma, and when the girl hesitated, "PROMISE ME !" - so she did, and fumbling at the door, grandma went in.
It was worrying - you could get into trouble breaking promises to adults, but grandma wasn't acting right. She went to her father, "Dad, there's something wrong with grandma. She said not to tell but she can't walk right and I think she's ill." He got up and went to his mother.
Next thing the girl knew, grandma was back int the spare bedroom and doctors were in and out. Her father said she had done the right thing and grandma had had something called a "stroke". In the afternoon, the girl went in to see her grandma, a bit nervously in case she got scolded for telling, but grandma said she had done the right thing.
The next day, grandma stayed in bed instead of going home. Chatting, she told the girl that she was looking forward to seeing her parents again, which puzzled the girl as they were obviously long gone. The grandma who had always been such a strong, upright and sometimes obstinate argumentative figure in her life seemed to have shrunk. Just before going to bed the girl looked in at her grandma, who seemed to be asleep but was breathing in an oddly loud uneven way. As she dozed off in her room next door, the girl was vaguely aware of different footsteps coming up and down the stairs.
Morning came, the girl ran in to see her grandma - the room was empty, with just a few make-up items to show it's former occupant had ever been there. "Mum,, where's grandma ?" Her mother was calmly making breakfast. "Your grandma died int the night" "But where's her body ? I didn't say goodbye". "The undertakes took it."
Mum turned back to the sink. The girl realized further discussion wasn't welcome. In the lounge her father was sitting, looking stunned. The girl and her brother were not told of the funeral and never heard much of their grandma again, though later they were presented with a legacy of £50 each.
A safe, secure chunk of the world as it had always been was now not there.
A crack had opened in the world of childhood and it began to leak away as the winds of adulthood started up. Anything might change.
The day that the circus left town
The girl was thirteen and puberty had started, but she was shy and young for her age, with life still centering round home, with her protective parents and younger brother, plus school and girl-guide meetings, Life was safe, had always been safe, and she hadn't ever had reason to think it wouldn't always be that way.
They weren't rich, but as far as the girl knew, her parents hadn't any particular money worries.
Life was much the same as always. It was a quiet dead-end and in summer the children played in the road and ran in out of each other's gardens - sometimes swimming in or canoeing on the nearby river.
The local idea of crime was pinching flowers from a neighbours' garden, which got you a nasty scolding followed by a forced public apology. In winter kids crowded chattering into bedrooms, sheds or playrooms. The business of having to wear a bra was a bit odd, but still world was safe, normal, usual.
The christmas after the girl turned 13, grandma came to stay (father's mother, her mother's parents were already dead). There was a slight tension in the air as mum and grandma had never really got along (grandma saw mother as slightly lower-class, which puzzled the girl and her brother), however this was normal too and the two women kept their differences to the odd muttered grumble.
The girl had always enjoyed her grandma's company, partly because grandma used to hide tiny penny toys around her house for children to find.
It was two days after Christmas and grandma was planning to leave next day. It was breakfast time and by chance the girl was the only one around when grandma came out of her bedroom). The old lady was in her eighties, but had always moved steadily, so the girl was confused to see that grandma was struggling to walk and couldn't manage to come down the stairs. She promptly ran up the stairs, and supporting her grandmother firmly, helped her to the kitchen door.
"Promise me you won't tell anyone" said grandma, and when the girl hesitated, "PROMISE ME !" - so she did, and fumbling at the door, grandma went in.
It was worrying - you could get into trouble breaking promises to adults, but grandma wasn't acting right. She went to her father, "Dad, there's something wrong with grandma. She said not to tell but she can't walk right and I think she's ill." He got up and went to his mother.
Next thing the girl knew, grandma was back int the spare bedroom and doctors were in and out. Her father said she had done the right thing and grandma had had something called a "stroke". In the afternoon, the girl went in to see her grandma, a bit nervously in case she got scolded for telling, but grandma said she had done the right thing.
The next day, grandma stayed in bed instead of going home. Chatting, she told the girl that she was looking forward to seeing her parents again, which puzzled the girl as they were obviously long gone. The grandma who had always been such a strong, upright and sometimes obstinate argumentative figure in her life seemed to have shrunk. Just before going to bed the girl looked in at her grandma, who seemed to be asleep but was breathing in an oddly loud uneven way. As she dozed off in her room next door, the girl was vaguely aware of different footsteps coming up and down the stairs.
Morning came, the girl ran in to see her grandma - the room was empty, with just a few make-up items to show it's former occupant had ever been there. "Mum,, where's grandma ?" Her mother was calmly making breakfast. "Your grandma died int the night" "But where's her body ? I didn't say goodbye". "The undertakes took it."
Mum turned back to the sink. The girl realized further discussion wasn't welcome. In the lounge her father was sitting, looking stunned. The girl and her brother were not told of the funeral and never heard much of their grandma again, though later they were presented with a legacy of £50 each.
A safe, secure chunk of the world as it had always been was now not there.
A crack had opened in the world of childhood and it began to leak away as the winds of adulthood started up. Anything might change.
Sunday, 13 July 2014
Parkinson 0, me 1 I win this round, Parkie !
I'm teaching myself to play the English Concertina (sorry, neighbours !) and was finding it difficult because the shaking of my hands kept making the notes warble as my fingers slipped.
This made me mad, so experimented with different positions and discovered that I could brace my arms and prevent most of the shaking by sitting with my feet up on a chair and legs well apart, then holding the concertina in my hands between my legs and pressing my forearms against the insides of my knees.
I look weird this way, but it works and may be useful for other things. So, Parkie you bastard that's one round you lost.
I'm teaching myself to play the English Concertina (sorry, neighbours !) and was finding it difficult because the shaking of my hands kept making the notes warble as my fingers slipped.
This made me mad, so experimented with different positions and discovered that I could brace my arms and prevent most of the shaking by sitting with my feet up on a chair and legs well apart, then holding the concertina in my hands between my legs and pressing my forearms against the insides of my knees.
I look weird this way, but it works and may be useful for other things. So, Parkie you bastard that's one round you lost.
Saturday, 31 May 2014
Some entries from the diary I keep when I can be bothered :
28/07/12
Took a fancy to keep a diary, probably 'cause it's easier than tidying up or studying. Washing-machine sprung a leak - damn - but at least it cleaned the kitchen floor.
No "off" period in afternoon - whee ! Also, could walk when I got up - first time in a fortnight. Didn't go "off" till after midnight. Stayed up till 4am - why?
Sunday 27/07/12 - Three hours sleep - ugh ! Washing-machine much worse, oh good, repair bills ! But kitchen floor nice and clean as leak has washed off all the food my shaky hands drop.
Monday 30.07/12 Just passed a side-road with the delightful name of "Tumbling Bay" - there's no bay, tumbling or otherwise.....
Bought a new sleeve for my laptop, 14 inches, forgot mine was a 15 inch - oops!
Sat 4th August 2012 Whee! Off to Sidmouth Folk Festival (can't afford it but came anyway). Five hours' driving - stopped at "Little Chef" to use their loo and found I'd squashed a traffic cone - think there's still bits stuck to the undercarriage - left briskly before anyone started to yell.
Sunday 5/08/12 Sitting in Sidmouth listening to great ceilidh music and
I WANT TO DANCE
I WANT TO DANCE
I WANT TO DANCE
I WANT TO DANCE
I WANT TO DANCE
Fuck Parkinson's....
Tuesday 7/08/12 tried busking - one snicker, one sniff from stray dog, no money. Then bunch of Morris dancers started up a few yards away and drowned me out.
Saturday 11/08/12 End of holiday - more depressing due to police closing A30 (so they got home quicker \?) - had to take major detour to get home - 6 1.2 hours.
Monday 20/08/12 Woke up, found I could walk normally (yippee), so dashed down hall, drew living-room curtains, made coffee in kitchen, back to bedroom, into bathroom - and froze !
Thursday 23/08/12 My morning to volunteer at the IT centre in \Engelfield Green - very frustrated as morning pills just would not take effect - getting downstairs in stiff mode is exhausting as left leg has to be forced every inch.
September 2012 Passed a builder's yard offering "distressed railway sleepers" for sale. They didn't look upset to me, just a bit battered and worn. Strange term - wonder what it means ?
I bought a second-hand laptop on ebay for £56 to replace the one that lost an argument with a glass of water. A bargain, though no cd drive. Not the latest model of course, but so what, quite adequate.
28/07/12
Took a fancy to keep a diary, probably 'cause it's easier than tidying up or studying. Washing-machine sprung a leak - damn - but at least it cleaned the kitchen floor.
No "off" period in afternoon - whee ! Also, could walk when I got up - first time in a fortnight. Didn't go "off" till after midnight. Stayed up till 4am - why?
Sunday 27/07/12 - Three hours sleep - ugh ! Washing-machine much worse, oh good, repair bills ! But kitchen floor nice and clean as leak has washed off all the food my shaky hands drop.
Monday 30.07/12 Just passed a side-road with the delightful name of "Tumbling Bay" - there's no bay, tumbling or otherwise.....
Bought a new sleeve for my laptop, 14 inches, forgot mine was a 15 inch - oops!
Sat 4th August 2012 Whee! Off to Sidmouth Folk Festival (can't afford it but came anyway). Five hours' driving - stopped at "Little Chef" to use their loo and found I'd squashed a traffic cone - think there's still bits stuck to the undercarriage - left briskly before anyone started to yell.
Sunday 5/08/12 Sitting in Sidmouth listening to great ceilidh music and
I WANT TO DANCE
I WANT TO DANCE
I WANT TO DANCE
I WANT TO DANCE
I WANT TO DANCE
Fuck Parkinson's....
Tuesday 7/08/12 tried busking - one snicker, one sniff from stray dog, no money. Then bunch of Morris dancers started up a few yards away and drowned me out.
Saturday 11/08/12 End of holiday - more depressing due to police closing A30 (so they got home quicker \?) - had to take major detour to get home - 6 1.2 hours.
Monday 20/08/12 Woke up, found I could walk normally (yippee), so dashed down hall, drew living-room curtains, made coffee in kitchen, back to bedroom, into bathroom - and froze !
Thursday 23/08/12 My morning to volunteer at the IT centre in \Engelfield Green - very frustrated as morning pills just would not take effect - getting downstairs in stiff mode is exhausting as left leg has to be forced every inch.
September 2012 Passed a builder's yard offering "distressed railway sleepers" for sale. They didn't look upset to me, just a bit battered and worn. Strange term - wonder what it means ?
I bought a second-hand laptop on ebay for £56 to replace the one that lost an argument with a glass of water. A bargain, though no cd drive. Not the latest model of course, but so what, quite adequate.
Monday, 14 April 2014
THE GOOD BITS --- PART TWO
Train ride at dawn
One summer’s morning at 6.30 am, I boarded the first train
of the day out of Scarborough station for York. A crisp, sunny morning but rather cold for
August and the whole world seemed to yawning and stretching. As we pulled out of the station, some of my
fellow passengers grumbled sleepily at each other, and rabbits foraging on the
line hopped crossly off the tracks at the last minute, seeming to curse the
train as they did so. Everything seemed to bursting with promises for the
future.
Pre-breakfast walk
in the snow.
A bitterly cold January morning in the mid-eighties. Snow on the ground, traffic sliding on icy
roads and pedestrians wearing so many clothes you just saw their eyeballs and
noses. My employers had sent me on a
residential management-training course at Theobalds Park, a training centre set
in parkland on the edge of London. With
the roads iced-up, and the course running into the evening, it was difficult to
get away for a break, and by the second day I was going stir-crazy. Not
normally an early-riser (four alarm clocks to get me up), I got
up an hour early, and at the first hesitant peek of a winter dawn, put on all the
jumpers I’d brought with me plus coat
and boots, and crunched out into a winter dawn for some fresh air.
It was more like frozen air; there were several inches of snow on the ground, my breath
steamed in front of me, and though I could hear the sound of cars on icy roads
a short way off, they weren’t visible through parkland. Where I walked was silent white wonderland as
I padded footprints through white sheets of snow.
After a few minutes, I almost bumped into a
rabbit, which blended in nicely in his
white winter fur – he obviously hadn’t expected a human and bolted despite my
attempt to explain that I wasn’t a threat.
For about half an hour it was like having a little pristine world all to
myself; I barely noticed the cold. Then I went back inside to breakfast and found my classmates had eaten all the bacon.
Sunday, 13 April 2014
THE GOOD BITS - PART ONE
--------------------------------------------
My brother's birth
I was just past three years old and a bit confused - I knew something unusual was happening but wasn't sure what (apparently I'd been told in detail but hadn't really understood). It was unsettling having Grandma get my breakfast when Mummy always did that - and Grandma wasn't doing things in the right way !
Also, there were strange people upstairs, Mummy was still in bed and I wasn't allowed to see her.
Then as I finished eating, Grandma said I could go up now. I ran into the bedroom and Mummy said
"There;s your new brother !" There was a box-like cot-bed by the window - I ran over to it and there was
a small leg waving in the air as a tiny person looked up at me, as fascinated as I was.
Wow ! Dolls never interested me again. Mum never did find out who taught him to kick all the water out of the baby-bath onto the carpet !
Having a baby gerbil sleep in my hand
In our teens, my brother brought a couple of gerbils home as pets. Owing to unreliable sex-determination by the pet shop, we ended up with a population explosion - did you know gerbils are sex maniacs ? At one point, something went wrong and one of the females started to eat her not-quite-weaned litter, so we had to separate the babies and hand-feed them with bits of pulped fruit. The babies, probably shocked by their sudden removal, stayed huddled together, so one afternoon I picked one up to feed it. Crouched in the palm of my hand, it was frightened at first, but nibbled bits of vegetable, then sniffing my fingers, peered between them, relaxed, curled up and fell fast asleep in the palm of my hand.
--------------------------------------------
My brother's birth
I was just past three years old and a bit confused - I knew something unusual was happening but wasn't sure what (apparently I'd been told in detail but hadn't really understood). It was unsettling having Grandma get my breakfast when Mummy always did that - and Grandma wasn't doing things in the right way !
Also, there were strange people upstairs, Mummy was still in bed and I wasn't allowed to see her.
Then as I finished eating, Grandma said I could go up now. I ran into the bedroom and Mummy said
"There;s your new brother !" There was a box-like cot-bed by the window - I ran over to it and there was
a small leg waving in the air as a tiny person looked up at me, as fascinated as I was.
Wow ! Dolls never interested me again. Mum never did find out who taught him to kick all the water out of the baby-bath onto the carpet !
Having a baby gerbil sleep in my hand
In our teens, my brother brought a couple of gerbils home as pets. Owing to unreliable sex-determination by the pet shop, we ended up with a population explosion - did you know gerbils are sex maniacs ? At one point, something went wrong and one of the females started to eat her not-quite-weaned litter, so we had to separate the babies and hand-feed them with bits of pulped fruit. The babies, probably shocked by their sudden removal, stayed huddled together, so one afternoon I picked one up to feed it. Crouched in the palm of my hand, it was frightened at first, but nibbled bits of vegetable, then sniffing my fingers, peered between them, relaxed, curled up and fell fast asleep in the palm of my hand.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)