In trouble again

I just can't resist taking photos of musicians on stage. I don't use flash. Why don't theatres approve? Tonight I was sitting quietly in the middle of Row F, taking a few very inconspicuous photos of Red Priest in full flight, when this old bloke on my left suddenly spoke out: "Will you stop breaking the theatre's rules?" he said, quite loudly, causing people's heads to turn. He'd obviously been thinking about it for a while. I didn't know they had rules about photography. Usually the places that disapprove make some sort of announcement at the start of the show, but no-one said anything here, so I assumed it was OK. Trying to be polite, I said, "Oh - I didn't know," rather than telling him to mind his own business. "It's in the programme, Madam!" he said, louder still. (Funny how some people manage to make the word, "madam" sound like an insult.) "I don't have a programme," I informed him, but regretfully put my camera away, while realising that he was the one who should now be embarrassed, having shown everyone around what an officious person he was.

Trying to rationalise his outburst, I came to the conclusion that (a) he is one of the volunteers who work at the theatre and is therefore personally involved in this stupid rule and making sure it's kept or (b) he's spent years wishing he could take photos in there, but always stuck to the rules himself, and can't bear to see someone else getting away with it.

After the interval I moved to an empty seat beside my friends several rows back. Poorer view, but nicer company.

What I'd like to know now, though, is whether Piping Hot should start dressing in red leather corsets like Red Priest's violinist? Or does it help to be young, pretty and blonde? And will I now be on the theatre's blacklist, for not only taking photos but publishing them online? I'm booked in to a recorder workshop with Piers Adams tomorrow morning, so maybe I should go in disguise.

Storms? What storms?

Doesn't look very stormy to me.

Apparently the south of England has been devastated by storms. I'm genuinely sorry for the people down there. Here, however, it's been quite mild, a bit grey and sorta driech, but nothing much. Oh, it rained a little bit, earlier.

What surprised me was to find a headline in the local paper informing me that the road at Dubmill Point had collapsed in the stormy weather. Dubmill Point is the bit of the coast road just beyond Allonby, on the way to Silloth, that sort of juts out into the Solway, and always gets the worst of the storms. It's so close I can see it from my window. And I was quite unaware of any storms in the past few days. I'd have noticed. Certainly there has been a spring tide, which is higher than normal, but the road must have been in a pretty bad state already if the spring tide was enough to undermine it and cause a collapse.

BELFAGAN

Haven't been to Belfagan for 2 weeks, but tonight I felt I really had to go, as I'd been contacted by a potential new recruit, and thought I really ought to be there to greet her. She turned out to be just the sort of person we want - good fun, enthusiastic, a quick learner and best of all she really enjoyed herself! She will not be allowed to escape . . . heh heh heh . . .

My feet, though, are killing me. Haven't done any dancing for ages, and I've been so busy (see previous blog entry) that I haven't even had as much dog-walking exercise as usual. (Though I have actually been out with them 3 days running so I'm not that bad.)

Busy . . . busy . . . busy . . .

It's all David Parrish's fault, for making me take control of my life and actually get lots of work done, every day, regularly. That course I went on has made me work, so much that the other important things in life aren't getting done any more, like blogging and gazing vacantly into space.

I've missed Belfagan 2 weeks running - though admittedly one of those days I stayed at home because I had a bad cold. I've been working most evenings, and getting jobs finished that have been hiding in dark corners, sobbing, wondering when I'd notice them. It's awful! I've more or less got to the end of the queue of chairs to be reseated, and I've been putting money in the bank, too! Give me another week or two of this and my bookkeeping will be up to date, for the first time ever since I started being self-employed.

Of course, this will only happen if I can keep it up. And I'm not properly organised yet, as I haven't managed to fit a regular dog-walk in to all this busyness (just as well Steve takes them), and the house still looks like a bomb has hit it. There's still a lot of deck-clearing to do.

MUSIC (1) - los Huevos Bandidos


Last Saturday at this time I was at the Kirkgate watching Steve's illustrious band, Los Huevos Bandidos, doing their first gig of 2008. One of their best for a long time, it was, and after much angst about the lack of a percussionist, they ended up with 2 Andys. Andy1, the Original Andy, who has in fact left the band, came back for the night and played his congas, bongos and other latin percussion, while Andy2, the New Andy, was there with his drum kit. He seems to be fitting in well, so long may he stay.

The local salsa dance class turned up, as usual, and for the first time included several quite young children, who danced happily and confidently, though it was the expert adults, as always, who stole the show.

The Kirkgate had put on food with a vaguely Tex-Mex bias, perhaps thinking, erroneously, that there was some connection between Mexico and Afro-Cuban jazz. (There isn't. Well, apart from the use of Spanish, I suppose. But that's like serving up Aussie beer at Glyndebourne just because the English language is spoken in both countries.) Anyway, despite the mismatch, the food went down a storm, so well, in fact, that most of the audience went on strike after the interval and refused to come back upstairs until they'd eaten their fill, despite the band being ready to start playing again.

Well, who cares? The main thing is that the audience enjoyed themselves and got their money's worth. The place was full. Everyone was happy. Well, apart from Peter, who tends to panic a bit if shows overrun at the end, but there's no pleasing him, really . . .

MUSIC (2) - Piping Hot

Piping Hot are now practising for our Georgian Fair gig, though it's beginning to look like we'll be very lucky if we all manage to get together at the same practice even once before the concert.

We're doing three Dowland pieces from our back catalogue, some Playford sets that we did at the Playford ball two years ago, an arrangement for recorders of Mozart's Horn Concerto No.3 (KV 447), Brian Bonsor's Serenata and a piece by JC Bach whose name I've forgotten as I haven't actually got a copy of the music yet.

Doesn't sound much? Well, it's not. It's just a sort of mini-gig. Most of the musical groups in the Cockermouth area are getting half an hour to put on a performance, one after the other, and this is our half hour.

The trouble is that it's coinciding with Belfagan's Day of Dance, which will be happening around Cockermouth all day. Bridget and I will have to slope off and play recorders for half an hour, and then back to the morris dancing. (Actually Bridget is so tied up with the Georgian Fair that I can't see how she'll manage to do much for Belfagan at all that day.) And to make matters worse, my Georgian (well, Tudor actually) corset doesn't fit properly since I lost weight, so I really ought to make a new one, but because of being BUSYBUSYBUSY (see above) I haven't got time.

Just as well I'm putting "Practice recorder music" on my list every day, mixed in with work reminders!