Still interviewing. So I haven’t really anything to say there.
This evening, however, the Christingle service at the village church. I was put in charge of the microphones. Judicious turning up and down of volume, and playing a CD when required. I was right at the back of the church, and all the singing that happened seemed to be at the front. So, duty called and I swelled the volume at the back.
I’m no singer, you know. I can hold a tune, I suppose, but I’ve got limited range (I had a throat operation more than 25 years ago and have used that as an excuse for D to be my highest point, under protest, ever since) and I can’t project a lot. My speaking voice, that’s different. I can boom across a crowded room, if necessary (but only if, darlings). I can’t pretend to have a lot of interest in singing, personally. I prefer an instrument to speak for me – which probably means, to hide behind.
My mother, who had a perfectly good voice, was very shy of using it in song, and that must have influenced me. But now, I am humble enough to show confidence, even when misplaced, and so sang aloud. Al and co came along – Hay was perfectly sweet and smiled at everyone until he finally fell asleep when the Christingles were lit and the lights turned off. The church was packed. It was lovely, even though I’m not wildly happy about religious indoctrination for small children, you can’t count Christingle, any more than any other part of the Christmas story, in that vein.
And that’s about all, my dears. Tomorrow, interviewing for an assistant SENCo. Six candidates. They all look good on paper. Another tricky one, then. Good luck, as I say at the start of each interview. It’s my job to ‘put them at their ease’. Me, darlings. Heh.