Exuberantly joyful

I was given one task: obtain equipment to make a poster. My last first year submission is an A1 conference poster on a research article. 'Yes I am doing a real degree' I reiterate, with glee, in answer to your scepticism. Educational Studies is important. Education with English, I hasten to add. Seizing this opportunity to wander the gorgeous streets of York on, this, the Queen's Jubilee Tuesday, I took the challenge, donned my boots and readied my purse for the adventure.

I knew I needed to get an A1 card backing and then thought I'd treat myself to getting some colourful sheets of A5 and A4 to emphasise key areas of the poster (blah blah slightly boring creative mind overflow) and maybe even save some as spare to make little origami experiments. So, tasked with this, I headed for Paperchase. I managed to get the right colours and a few more, £4-odd, not too expensive in the grand scheme of things. Chuffed. Until I came to pay, and casually asked if they had a cardboard tube for me to transport it in. Little did I know I would be repeating this noun phrase for the next half an hour repeatedly. They were selling them for £11.50. "Woah there" went my student, thrifty, Durham-born and raised, brain. I am not paying for a tube. I am my father's daughter. I will FIND one. I will BARGAIN for one. I will SCROUNGE one. I settled for the long, Paperchase bag with handles and battled with the wind, carefully carrying my card. This was not the end of the story, oh no.

I proceeded to dot about and around certain shops, such as WHSmiths, who were also selling them. Urgh. And that one was far too small. I popped into the Disney shop, which was adorable because the woman was lovely and said to go to HMV. So I did. No luck there either. "OOH, the Card Factory! They'll have things like that!" thought little ol' me. Suffice to say I was snubbed by one of the rudest employees I have ever met. She was stocking the shelves in a barren wasteland of a shop and noone else was disturbing her, so I asked, "Excuse me, I don't suppose you have any cardboard poster tubes do you?" (yes I did actually preface each asking with 'I don't suppose', I am English) and she didn't even look me in the eye as she shook her head, bowed it and mumbled "No, *cough* no we DON'T." and continued to slot the 'Happy 90th Birthday' cards into the podium.
At this point, I admit, I was loosing faith. Where else would stock cardboard poster tubes? As I fervently looked up and down the street, there were a number of phone shops, clothes shops and... PERFUME SHOPS. YES! That's the place to go! As previously mentioned, I am my father's daughter. This is probably news to you, but as a technology teacher, my Dad has a vested interest in design and used to collect perfume bottles from kind vendors for his displays at school. Sadly, things have changed and collections/ the importance of design inspiration has diminished at said-school, but I have retained in my head that 'The Perfume Shop' and the 'Fragrance Shop' are places with mild-mannered, pleasant smelling people who are willing to be sweet talked into giving people old bottles and bits and bobs to you if you ask them nicely. Some might say I have been trained well...
I went into both of these shops and my expectations were fully met, but I left with the new nugget of information that both shops had just got rid of all of their cardboard tubes and such yesterday. I was beginning to panic. What would I transport my finished poster in? I don't want to tie it with string and hand it in all battered now, do I?
I must have looked like a very windswept and baffled bean, fringe clipped back and eyebrows feverishly knitting together as I stood in the middle of the street with my cardigan sleeves slowly rolling back down my forearms.
There must be somewhere I can go! my little head-voice chirped at me.

Waterstones.

Yes. Where book enthusiasts and well-rounded people work. I walked in and was immediately greeted with a good sensation. This was the place. The man in the queue before me was buying a Scott Pilgrim book and I giggled to myself as I thought about my bright pink hair. Walking up to the counter, I brought out the well-rehearsed phrase and the man immediately blurted out "YES! I'll have a look in the ba..." and then he turned to his colleague, The second man began to shake his head. Oh no, I thought, this isn't it. I'm going home tube-less.

 "If you request one we can hold some back for you if you like? Wait, how many do you want? All of them?"

"Ha, oh goodness no, just the one please! That would be ace!" I stuttered back to him. His colleague was rather jovial but brought the tone down when he said "We might just have thrown them out..." Nonetheless, the first attendee decided to physically skip through the shop, into the back, and I told the second employee about how I needed it to submit my poster on Thursday and he was really rather lovely to chat to. The joyful man came back with two, cardboard tubes and my face lit up, as did his. "Here you go! Is this alright?"
I held up the Paperchase bag to measure the tube length and it was PERFECT.
"Thank you so much! You're a star!" I automatically  blurted out to him and he gave me the A1 sized poster tube. I was so glad.

It was as I walked out of Waterstones, beaming like an absolute buffoon that I began to feel utterly filled by a joyful spirit. My face just spread out into the widest smile, I was so thankful that the kind man had given me a chance and checked the store room, just on the off-chance that there might be something to fit my description. I was feeling a little bit down-trodden after my experience in the Card Factory, but this man restored my faith in simple deeds and genuine human compassion. It was in that moment that I realised where I'd been going wrong in my head over these past few weeks. A lot of my thoughts have been focusing on where I feel the Holy Spirit in my life. Amidst all of the 'first year submissions stress' I've been thinking a lot about spiritual gifts. It all made sense in that moment: the spirit anoints me with joy. Absolute, perfect, pure joy. All the time. I am constantly filled with the spirit, we all are. But it's in moments like the one I shared with the exuberantly joyful and helpful man in Waterstones that re-ignited my confidence in trusting that the spirit does in fact make me joyful. Happy to be alive, happy to receive gifts of kindness and compassion, happy to go that little bit out of my way to make my life an interesting story to tell aspects of to others.

Sorry I haven't written for a while. It's not like I haven't been doing things; I've been unfathomably busy! I thought it might be nice to just share a recent little story with you, whilst reminding myself that I do have a blog which I used to write with a vibrant passion for. That's a little bit sad but I'm finding more and more things are coming into and out of my life with every opportunity I take, so for that I am sorry, blog, that I have abandoned you. Never fear, I aim to have updated you at least once again before the end of the year.

Tatty bye,
Haze

Blogger's block

There are few things in life that give me greater satisfaction than wearing a new pair of socks.

I mean, I could make a list of things that make me happy, but what would the point of that be? I feel bad enough already having looked at the number of posts I've written this year compared to 2010... and it sickens me. So no slacking and writing about sappy little things that make me smile. Dive in and be honest about stuff Haze.

I feel awful every time I remember I have a blog and haven't written anything for it for an age.

The worst bit is, I've done a bunch of really cool things since my last post (which was a kind of retrospective one anyway) and I've even had another choir course since then too! I've been at home for almost a month now and it has been both great and super weird. When it comes to me and my family, weird is just kind of average for us. Not meaning to say that in a "we're so cool because we're weird" way, we really are just weird. Enough of that adjective, move on. Anywhooooo, it's been fab to be at home and surrounded by stuff happening all the time. Little walks to go on, jobs to help out with, sorting and tidying to be done. My sister and my parents make a great team and when we do cool stuff it's really ace. I'm so lucky to be part of such a great little unit. Recently, my Mum ordered me an ArtCard in the post, and I put it to good use last week as we went on a family adventure to London. It was a very different experience to our previous, pit-stop, tourist-style tornado holidays in London. We got the train down from Durham station, which was a joy because I LOVE TRAINS. We did all sorts of jaunts to galleries AND I met Fran 3/3 days we were there. Such a blessing to be in the capital where she is just jetting around, being a dance student. Amazing.

Prior to this, after a week of being home, I managed to book myself some tickets to go and visit Garreth in the depths of North West Wales. Now THAT train journey excited me. Not only was I in "independent mission mode" (when I am in this mode, I am literally unstoppable) but I also got to spend 5 days with my super-duper boyfriend and his parents when I reached my destination. So that was seriously brill. I even got sunburnt on the beach because the weather was so glorious! We also played Trivial Pursuit and it was really rather excellent. I am a general knowledge fiend. I am a bit sad that I haven't seen him since then, but I'll be all the more appreciative to see him again when I do, whenever that is. Booo.

I celebrated a wonderful, if a little mind-boggling and quite emotional, Easter with family in Leeds and won two Easter eggs at the Church raffle. It was such a precious time to be together and just being thankful, also remembering absent friends that it couldn't go amiss in this post. When big life events such as bereavements happen in life it makes you focus and forget all sorts of things. It shocked me into being alive in lots of respects, but also made me feel strangely old and kind of experienced in a way.

In other news, Elizabeth and I have done a fair amount of shopping for our newly rejuvenated, sophisticated wardrobes and this pleases me greatly. Some of the top items include a mind-blowingly colourful cardigan (inherited) and the most perfect pair of tan brogues known to man. Clothes make me very happy, especially when they're power outfits. You know, outfits that make you feel good, in charge and SUPER COOL. I am one of the lamest people, I know, but I really like clothes, so there. I'm sceptical of fashion, but observe minor trends. Oh, and set them too of course. Genuinely. This one time, Liz and I decided it would be cool to wear whistles for a summer, and what came into the Topshop jewellery range a month or so later? WHISTLES ON CHAINS. Just saying, I am a trendsetter.

Needless to say, I had the last laugh. I've been blasting through a few series online and I'm making the most of my Netflix free trial month, so you can take from that what you will about how I'm spending my time (most definitely inside).

I've just painted my nails pale blue with bees and trails so I'm a very happy bean right now.

Tatty bye,

Haze

My Musical Life

What a boring title. Come on Haze, sort it out! Interest your readers!

Then again, this is an honesty blog, right? Where I'm totally open, blunt and straightforward? So stuff it! I'll title it as I wish, and continue as I mean to.

Go on, I hear you plead!

It is coming to my attention more and more that our generation is one that focuses on musical judgement, taste and the ways in which we individually use music in different ways. I, for one, am horrendously guilty of judging 'popular' music and using it for 'background' music, much to my utter disappointment and I even shudder at the thought that I don't ENJOY a vast majority of music for what it is. I can be that terrible cynic of the latest club anthem because it's thumpy and generic and generally irritating to hear every other hour of the day. But I can often stop and appreciate its value as a place in musical history or development. It's still probably a load of codswallop in the grand scheme of things though. Still, if someone were to ask me what my favourite band was, I'd probably answer with the lamest of retorts: "I'm not really sure...probably The Feeling... or McFly" and be met with a backlash of judgement, terror and animosity. I used to be one of those cretins who used to say "ohh I like ALL MUSIC" which just makes me a feel a little bit ill looking back. I once heard someone say (it was probably on New Girl actually) that to say you love everything is to truly not love anything at all. If this is the case, then my favourite genre of music is most definitely Classical. Before I register that you have all officially switched off, changed tab or browser and have dismissed this rather opinion-laden ramble, please hear me out. To give a true reading of this blog some justice, tune in to 100-102 fm on a radio, if you can, and leave it on for as long as it may take you to read and digest this blog. Maybe get a cup of tea and a biscuit, I can feel it might be a long one. Make it a custard cream if you can. Oh and if it's the news bit or an advert break, just get back on with whatever you were distracted by before you stumbled across or clicked on this. Then come back!! (Please)

Thanks for that by the way, if you're genuinely reading this out of curiosity. Back on with the point of the blog!

This weekend I went home to sing for a rehearsal weekend with my Choir, (link to our fabby website which is super-swish and you can spot me in the pictures and that) who are exceptional in many ways. Firstly, I feel extremely lucky and privileged to even have been considered to be a part of such a wonderful project. Some of you might know that I've been a keen (it's all about enthusiasm... right?) singer from an early age, but by no means a 'proper' one- and certainly not a distinguished or even qualified one. Encouraged by instrumental lessons from the age of nine, music became a crucial interest for me and it's fair to say that the vast majority of my friends throughout school, and even now, are from ensembles and departments that exalted the virtues of musical involvement.

So, a vague re-cap of my 'musical life' as I like to call it, might lead me to begin with a list. Now, I love a good list. Here we go:

9 years old; started Clarinet lessons and sang in the junior school 'choir' as part of the Millennium opening of the Gala Theatre in Durham

11 years old; Secondary school education began. Joined 'girls choir/junior choir' in the second week of Year 7. NEVER. LOOKED. BACK. Our school's music department was notoriously known for digging its claws in and never letting you go. Still, I have no regrets about this.

12/13 years old: Took part in the school's production of Annie Jr. and was one of the principle orphans. Got to know one of my best friends in this production as she was Annie and I love her dearly.

Lets leave the ages alone and talk in more general terms, shall we?

Throughout secondary school I was involved in musical trips, ensembles and lessons which just kept proving to me that I enjoyed the involvement that music brought to myself as an individual and I was always encouraged to keep this up. I began playing the piano and thoroughly enjoyed learning how pieces of music themselves are pieced together and how "moments" occur. More on this later! Continuing with playing the clarinet, I joined the District Wind Band, progressed to Regional level and finished up at County Wind Band by Sixth Form time. I also joined a county-wide Clarinet choir called "Clarinetix" and I played one of two bass clarinets as part of that. As always, school music-department involvement continued and I joined the Senior Choir and the Chamber choir, performing at the Sage Gateshead as part of the Catholic Partnership concerts and being in my absolute element, thrice. Marvellous.

Most recently, I joined the Durham County Youth Choir in September 2010 because a few of my friends said it was great and I thought I'd give it a go after seeing them at the joint Sage concert for the Durham Music Service Showcase in the summer of the same year. I do not regret auditioning for DCYC one jot. It was one of the best things I was ever pressured into doing. Unbeknownst to me, a few of the people from DCYC had been selected to go down to London and begin a new choir, to soon work as part of the Gabrielli Young Singers Scheme with Paul McCreesh. In December, Hilary (the conductor of DCYC) invited me to go along with the oldest members of the choir to a new choir that was forming, and it was mind-blowing. It was almost certainly terrifying but thrilling all the same to be thrown in at the deep end, sight-reading Britten's "Rejoice in the Lamb" and three choruses from Handel's "Solomon". Still, I had been put forward to be in this choir because I had been identified as a quick sight-reader/singer and this certainly proved it. Prior to this rehearsal weekend, after being in DCYC for two weeks, I was asked to sight-sing a concert and managed remarkably well to do it. Phew! After a weekend of rehearsal with this new choir, we performed the pieces, I lost a cardigan (let's not go there, it's still a sore point, ok?) and made friends I would come to absolutely adore and cherish for many moments to come.

Here began my journey with John Forsyth and the North East Youth Chorale.

As previously mentioned, I had performed at the Sage with the Hexham and Newcastle Catholic Partnership scheme with school and this is where I first encountered John. I doubt he remembers me personally, but I will always remember him from that. He knows me by name now though ;) We sang the first movement of John Rutter's "Magnificat" and he sat at the front on his legendary, squeaky stool, in our school hall in front of numerous, terrified pupils who were mainly forced to be part of the choir and he belted out every part in his classic way, scaring us all a little bit. Needless to say, the performance was awesome and I love that piece very dearly as a result of that experience.

Life suddenly took a turn towards the extraordinary after I joined NEYC. If you want a less condensed version of the summer just passed's events than the one I'm going to give here (including non-musical activities) I'm going to refer you to THIS BLOG POST RIGHT HERE, which you can read at your leisure.

Summer happened like this: I SANG AT THE ROYAL ALBERT HALL AND RECORDED A CD WITH MY CHOIR AND LOADS OF OTHER, PROFESSIONAL CHOIRS AND SINGERS.

IT WAS AWESOME.

The social side of it was fabulous, as was the insight into the hard graft and sheer workload that being in that side of the industry requires. Nonetheless, it was amazing.

So, back to my current state of affairs, yes?

This weekend, John really struck a chord in me (hahaha music pun, waahoo) when he was talking about living for moments. I live each day for moments, but musical moments are just somehow, supremely more precious. How often do you listen to the average, indie, metal or pop song and think "WOW!"? Seriously, do you ever? I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I do that, probably at all. There have been times, of course, when I've thought "this song is pretty epic, cool, niiiiice riff" or other rather vacuous things. For me, there is nothing quite like listening to a cheeky suspension or augmented fifth or something equally as nerdy in a Whitare or Brahms piece that literally makes every fibre of your being just FEEL. I'm not quite sure what or how it makes me feel, but it definitely puts me in my place. The vast majority of the music we sing with NEYC revolves around classical, choral works which usually involve Masses, Requiems or songs which exalt and glorify God and sing His praises. That in itself excites me greatly in a general sense, but when the music itself is just so exquisitely enjoyable and brilliant, it makes me beam from ear to ear to praise God to such beautiful music, and sung excellently might I add. Some of our choir are relatively agnostic or atheists, but they all partake in singing and are convincing in all manners when they sing the pieces, which I find incredibly interesting and a little bit baffling all the same. When I experience a "moment" in the music we sing, or even just when listening to Classic FM (which excites me greatly, because I'm such a nerd I recognise a great deal of 'things'- motifs, pieces I've played and even composers- and revel in that sometimes) I can't help but feel extremely small but somehow worthy. It's difficult to explain I suppose, but at the end of the day, I love it.

You should too.

Just a recommendation.

Give it some thought.

Tatty bye,

Haze

It's a brand new year...

... no new posts since JULY.

I am a bad blogger.

Hey, my posts used to be such quality. Remember when I got locked in the toilet? When I went to see Mika? When I spent brilliant days with Fran and my sister and talked about my Mother and Father and their hilarious personalities for posts and posts and posts?

Well... I went to Uni, and life has just blown me away. Obviously not literally, I'm still sitting right here, on the same laptop, just in a different city. That's right, I finally moved away from home! I hope that doesn't sound like "OMG I FINALLY LEFT HOME WEEEEEEEEEEW I'M PROPA BUZZIN' TO BE ON ME OWN LYK NOO MORE PARENTS YOU CAN'T TELL ME NOT TO BUY AND EAT POTATO SMILEYS AND JAMMIE DODGERS WHEEEE LET'S GAN MENTAL FRESHAAAAS".

Not at all.

The reality of it all is that I blast musical soundtracks from my room in the poshest halls on campus, jam on my ukulele a fair bit and paint my nails at least once a week with a new pattern/theme to make sure I still allow myself to have an artistic outlet. I also dyed the underneath of my hair bright blue, but now it's purple. News is news, whether 5 and a half months late... right?

I just got back from my food shop and necessary walk to Aldi and I was struck by how light I felt as I walked there. The sun was almost setting and Mumford & Sons "Sigh No More" was lightly propelling me along in my ears, protected from the wind by my cat hat.

I was totally at ease with just being. Bounding along with a considerable spring in my step, I must have looked agreeably quite mental but that didn't matter to me in that moment, nor does it really now.

I smiled at everyone who cycled or walked past and I felt a little bit giddy with my freedom and just generally really happy outlook. Just as elated on the walk back just several pounds more to carry weighing my shoulders down and causing my HUGE arm muscles to ache and it made me think of my Outward Bound expeditions.

I wasn't wearing anything special to make me feel chipper and good about myself. I was completely alone, all wrapped up with my rucksack on my back. I wasn't running, just plodding with the intention of going to Aldi and returning to my house. I wasn't even wearing make up.

Just a smile.

(well, I was wearing lots of clothes, it was flipping chilly today folks!!)

I hope my smile put a spring in someone else's step today, or any day. Even just another smile back is enough to make my grin widen and feel warm inside.

Honestly.

It was lovely to talk to you again, I have missed this a whole bunch.

Tatty bye,

Haze