It’s lovely Jez’s birthday today. I am about to bugger off to a rehearsal and he’s at home (our lovely new home) doing his work and listening to his new CDs. If he starts falling asleep, he can have some of the espresso cake I accidentally created! (I’m taking him out on Friday, don’t worry.)
So feel free to post your good wishes up here!
Happy Birthday Sexy!
So, I handed in my notice at Boots. It’s simply not worth it, to give away three mornings of my week to earn about £90. I’m going to have to be a bit broke for a little while, but you know what? I’m so happy I’ve made this decision. I have to invest in Me for a bit, and I deserve to give 45% of my attention to singing, 45% to the final year of my degree, and the other 10% to Jez. By the way do you know how you test decisions? You make it, and pretend it’s your final decision, and see what feeling washes over you. If it’s panic, it’s not the right decision. If it’s relief, then you should go ahead! So simple.
I’ve also been offered a £1k a year scholarship to sing in a local cathedral. Hope this works out, as I need the cash!
I did a concert last week and got a lovely review in the paper (although I look stupid and pregnant on the photo) - you remember when I had to find a pianist in a matter of hours? It went absolutely brilliantly, well, apart from me forgetting one song but I shoved it in at the end along with all the other encores. You read the review of course. I loved premiering Rusalka’s Song to the Moon, because I realised it’s so very simple and so very moving if done with good taste. I also realised I prefer singing in Czech to singing in German - strange I suppose, but in my case it stands to reason.
Then a few days later I supported a brass band - who bless them, were doing their best but were never going to win many prizes - and then a few days after that was my Old Lady Cabaret. My pianist and I arrived at the church 30 minutes early for an 8:15 start. However, the old ladies were taking longer than expected over their dinner, so my pianist and I just sat patiently in the room next door, drinking the sherry they’d kindly left us, and catching up on old times. 8:15 came and went. We had another sherry. My pianist asked me if I’d like to sing at a World Aids Day service in the cathedral. A solo. I said yes of course. 8:30 came and went. We had another sherry.
At 9, I stood up and started singing "I feel pretty" to these ladies, who, to be honest, looked like they just wanted to go home and feed the cats. We got lost and sang about 5 verses, trying to catch up with each other. Then in "Tonight" I got the giggles, in my Cole Porter numbers they were joining in so enthusiastically, I left it up to them to remember my words, likewise the Jerome Kern, then I did "La vie on rose" and "Autumn leaves", and finished with a couple from My Fair Lady.
Then we took the money, finished the sherry, and left. They absolutely hated me. It was hilarious!
Now I’ve got two essays to write for next week, and a lovely house to enjoy.
Sorry for the mememememememe-ness of this, I just wanted to let you all know I was ok!
I’m off to find out what you’ve all been up to now!
I miss you. Every time I sing I miss you. I see a space where you ought to be sitting.
I miss you in November. I miss you at Christmas.
I wish we weren’t ruled by money. If we were ruled simply by friendship or trust, then maybe you’d still be here. You only went because you had no money and too much pride.
I wish I could believe that you were in a better place, looking down on me, because I know that if you were, you’d be so proud of me, like you always were. But I can’t believe that.
I should have been a better friend to you. I should have cut through your pride and given you the sort of help you really needed. I should have done so much more for you. I let you down so much, and you let me. I was so angry with you! Why did you have to go? We loved you so much! Why couldn’t you have just said?
I remember the last time I saw you, three years ago. It was a hard time in my life too. I gave you a cuddle and said that everything would be alright now because I was home, and I saw tears in your eyes. Why couldn’t I see? And I remember that night a week later when I phoned your house number over and over again, hoping you’d pick up, even though I knew the house was empty and I’d never ever hear your voice again.
I remember standing on that hillside two weeks later, wishing it was all a nightmare, not knowing what to say except I’m sorry, I’m sorry, as if you could hear me.
And I’m still sorry.
I’m moving blogs soon.
I may even delete the whole thing.
I don’t want everyone to know this much anymore.
