Ida ho ho ho

Ida lives in the local residential home and is often brought to church by one of the staff in her wheelchair. She has a habit of commenting at various points in the sermon and would quite like to enter into discussion with whomever is leading the service – which I’m sure they quite appreciate as it proves that at least one member of the congregation is awake and listening.  She speaks out at other moments too, on occasion.  Today, for instance – “When I was a child, I used to pray to God very strongly” (“Good for you,” interjected Anthony) … “that the psalm would be a short one.”  The whole congregation guffawed.

It seems to be quite well received now that I usually play the clarinet instead of the organ.  In the winter, we use the meeting room adjoining the church to save heating the whole building and, when it’s Andy’s turn to play, he uses an electronic keyboard.  I’m not at all fond of playing that so bring the clarinet instead.  We moved back to the church last month, but the first time I played there was a modern hymn that really was not suited to the organ so I kept to the other instrument.  And since then, I’ve been playing it by request.  I’m aware of course that this says as much about my organ playing as my clarinetting, but the other advantage is that it’s pitched slightly lower and is easier to sing to – and in fact, the rich tone is a pleasure to sing to in any case, or so I’m told.

It’s not impossible that this might be the first day for five or six weeks when there will not be any rain.  Very good timing if so, because it’s the day of the town’s street market.  I should have gone really, the Sage did, but I wanted to do some gardening.  He had lunch while he was there.  I had a slice of dry bread and a glass of wine.  I’m not sure that’s really quite the thing for Sunday lunch though.  I wanted cheese, but someone seems to have eaten it all.   Maybe I’ll go and cook something, I won’t last until dinnertime.

12 comments on “Ida ho ho ho

  1. Pat

    On the rare occasions I sing in company now I always have to sing an octave lower – or not at all. I wonder if it disturbs people. Another sad thing – it occurred to me yesterday that I have fallen out of love with gardening.
    Good for Ida and good for the community in embracing her.

    Reply
  2. Macy

    As a bad singer, who keeps ending up in small congregations, trust me, there’s a lot to be said for music pitched in lower keys!

    Reply
  3. Z

    Fortunately the rain hasn’t been constant or we’d all be afloat by now, but it’s been pretty frustrating, and cold.

    Anthony laughed as much as the rest of us, it was perfect timing!

    Pat and Macy, if I see there is anything higher than a D then I look for the tune in a lower setting or transpose it myself. Traditional hymns are geared up for choirs, not average singers!

    I have fallen out of love with gardening too for several years, but have not given up hope that enthusiasm will rekindle one day.

    Reply
  4. Roses

    I wander in and out of my garden with little interest at the moment. I knew I’d have to leave it alone with the drought. Now, I’m leaving it alone, cause everything looks bushy and lovely and I can’t be arsed.

    I love the clarinet. I’ve got quite a few Bulgarian folk tracks that feature clarinets and it is just lovely. Something so evocative about the sound.

    Reply
  5. Z

    Another good thing about the clarinet is that it’s so versatile – it sounds good with different styles of music. An oboe for jazz or a sax for most classical music doesn’t really go.

    This is a good time of the year in the garden, it’s all so fresh. It’s when the weeds start to seed that they can’t be left. Well, I can leave them, but that’s because I don’t give much of a damn.

    Reply
  6. Z

    It’s all right, dear heart, he lets her sit on his lap and she’s quite happy.

    Much as I miss Dave’s comments, sometimes it feels as if he’s still here in spirit.

    Reply
  7. Z

    Not that sort of spirit, dear heart. But the influence of Dave continues in the minds of my dear friends who red-pencil what I write. And I meekly accept it, of course.

    Reply

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