Too long again

Eight days since the last update, and I didn't even really say anything the last time.

I'm sitting in the little room in Merston that used to be mine before my brother moved out and I could move into the bigger (relatively) room. It's now the office-cum-library and consequently the place where the modem lives. I've camped out here for today since I've been informed my mother will be invading for the next two days to complete some sort of online test. I'm not sure what type of test involves staying in front of a computer for two days, and she hasn't really explained so I guess I'll just have to see what happens. She's said she won't be staying up for the whole time but I worry for her health if she looks at a screen for that long (I'm one to talk).

I think it's time I reported on the last week and more. Since leaving Glasgow. Well I journeyed on the morning train to Manchester, complete with age-old Nike bag, and laptop on my back. Pretty uneventful train journey, I'm glad to say - seem to usually get delayed somewhere or other, but arrived in Manchester a few minutes ahead of schedule with a good few bars of tango written and an up-to-date diary, not to mention a Greggs stomach. I met Will at the train station, and we talked about how much Manchester has changed. I remembered I haven't been there for about a year, and it's strange how things change when you're away. People just seem to get on a build stuff without your permission and finish those things that seemed to be taking so long in a jiffy. Of particular note are the skyscraper in a lurid green colour effacing the horizon as you come in on the train through Salford. It's not quite finished yet but it was a little shock when I wasn't expecting a huge building where previously there wasn't anything. They've also finished the corner of the Arndale centre on Exchange Square with some huge glass panels and modern concrete/steel painted panels, completing that quarter of the town from a destitute and decaying quarter and into a hive of activity, with the Urbis museum, Printworks, Triangle centre, huge glass Marks and Sparks and the brand new (almost civil) Arndale. I kinda missed the 'true' Manchester feel, that of burgeoning new business next to decaying industry.

After Will left me on the bus to find his flat in Withington, I dropped off my few things, settled in and then went out to investigate where I used to live. I'm not sure what I was expecting to find, but it still had the same yellow front door, and the street hadn't really changed at all. I almost expected it to feel like yesterday I was there, but there's a bridge or at least a gap between my experiences then and what's going on now. Back then seemed like a bit of a daydream, and I drifted through that gap year in Manchester without too much care, although I certainly enjoyed myself and had bad days in equal measure. I pottered round to where Hannah used to live and didn't dare look at the front. The enduring memory is of standing on the street in June, with bouts of sun and rain, saying goodbye without either of us really wanting to either say or mean it. It's not that I didn't know that she was going, it's that we both knew it had to end at some point, but that it was probably better not to acknowledge it and then it'd be easier when we saw each other again. As it happens she's spent most of the last two years in Africa. I find it really strange that a friendship can only really exist when two live close to each other. It requires at least some sort of regular exchange for you to 'know' a person, and that just disappears when they're away for even a short length of time. I guess it's some sort of trust, an unconscious bond between the people that forms from just being in each other's company.

I digress. Later that day Will and I went to see Jacopo and Paolo's show at Manchester University, and saw many people I haven't seen for a while. I hadn't seen Paolo or Jacopo since March, which I suppose isn't that long a length of time but nonetheless I love to see them. I also saw Tullis and discussed the live electronics gig we're planning in Glasgow with him, and he showed me what Mantis was doing in the basement of the department. Max/MSP seems to feature highly on the list of all current institutions, and they were making full use of its capabilities. I also saw Envision crew, whom I know from the old department, but more from the original LPC (I love you, you're perfect, now change) tour of the UK and Italy from two and a half years ago. When we went out for a drink after the show it seemed like no time had passed since we were all in Birmingham in a terrible B&B and performing in a nearby theatre. The show (that evening) was a mixed affair of abstract scenes, unscripted and partly improvised, but making an adjoining tableux that was at once disturbing and surreal in the true Italian style. It was very short, but could have been even shorter - not necessarily a bad thing, just a suggestion that the material and ideas could have been condensed into a smaller time period. Tullis' music was effective and very apt, but lacked the polish of previous productions because of time contraints. They had a week to prepare the whole performance. We adjourned to Kro Bar across the road and talked for many hours about the implications of the work and where they intended to go afterwards over a good few beers. I also got to speak Italian for a while, always welcome, although I certainly felt a little rusty. I slept well and the next day Will, Holly and I went to see what all the fuss was about in the centre of Manchester.

I'll explain more tomorrow about the rest of the weekend, then Holland and what's going on this week.

Dutchland

Well I'm in Holland. Staying at a friend's apartment in Delft, where it is very beautiful, hospitable and warm. This evening we took his cat for a walk, but it seemed to prefer sniffing in the bushes just outside the flat than walking along the river bank, so we returned without so much as a short stroll.
I'm yet to come to a decision as to whether I'd like to stay here or not, as I've only been here for a matter of hours. The train system here is pretty awesome, and it really didn't cost much or take very long to get from Schiphol to Den Haag. What amazed me more was this morning was the journey from Manchester to London, which took little more than two hours. At least now we're up to speed with the continent on one major transport route. However it did still take an hour on the tube and bus from central London out to Heathrow.
Lots of great things happened in Manchester, probably something to talk about when I have a computer keyboard in front of me and not predictive text on my phone, but I'll just say for now that I had a really good time and bumped into more wonderful people than I'd care to mention. I really can't believe just how much it has changed since I've left, and for the good more than anything. For now, I think I'll get some kip before my interview tomorrow and let you know how it goes as soon as I can...

Tango Time

Looking at the autocomplete function on the title, it seems like I've written a lot of blog entries starting with 'T'. It's amazing what psychoanalysis can do. Last night I went to Alistair MacDonald's party, an annual gathering of arty types for St Dymphna's day (the patron saint of insanity). Much fun was had over many glasses of wine, and there was a lavish spread, of which the remaining last scraps were forced into doggy bags and into our hands on the way out. Alistair put tango music on for most of the night, given that he's a major tango exponent in Glasgow it was a good soundtrack for the evening. After a few hours I appeared to be more drunk than I had anticipated, but carried on drinking the freely flowing wine. There's something about red wine that makes you feel really strange when you've drunk too much of it. At some point in the night I agreed to write some piano duet tangos for the tango class that Alistair frequents, so I've got that hanging over me. I have a feeling that it'll be a good laugh though, and it's always good experience to be writing music, whatever the genre.

I discovered interrobangs today. I'm not really sure where one would use them, and I've hardly ever had a really strong desire to combine a question and exclamation mark.

I think I'm going to go and investigate my coffee maker, which hasn't been off the shelf for a while. I think an espresso would go down just well about now. Then I can tackle the tango with an alert mind.

The SonicFusion festival launched on the Friday just gone, with an all electro-acoustic concert. Despite the festival having the makings of a class A event, it was diabolically organised. They were still rehearsing as guests arrived at about 7.45, and during some of the pieces leads were being pulled out, reconnected and levels were being changed. All that should have been sorted before the concert started, since it's really quite distracting to have some people continuing a dialogue across the hall about the levels on a guitar, even worse with the lights up. Combine that with the second rate pieces (with the exception of Alistair's) and the terrible sound quality, I was disappointed with the outcome of the gig. It just didn't bode well for the start of an 'international' music festival. Anyway, time to find the coffee maker.

Envelopes

I seem to have spent the majority of today staring at envelopes. At 9.30 this morning I was called by my agency and asked if I could work today. I was beginning to lose hope of ever speaking to the nice ladies at Bruce Murray again, but lo and behold they picked me up out of my daze this morning and offered me work. I jumped at it since I really need some support for my 'endeavours', and I was planning on today being another of my self-congratulatory days in the park, reading and sunning myself and then retiring later to a cool and relaxed evening alla Wooster. But no, I was whisked off in a frenzy since I said I would be at the office in an hour, and turned up at 10.25 looking rather more dapper than I had done 55 minutes ago. I was immediately introduced to the smiling and amicable staff, who made me feel at home before warning me that the job was a little monotonous. I've done some really dreadful jobs in the past, but despite this one being really rather dull, I wasn't in a dull mood and remained cheerful for the rest of the day. I forget how friendly people are if you smile at them regularly, and I duly accepted cups of tea and their suggestions to take breaks whenever I wanted. That said I finished the work before the day was up and they sent me home early to the tune of a few pounds better. It consisted mainly of stamping payslips with a big, red P60 and then putting them into envelopes to be whisked off to the person concerned. I find it amazing that these jobs are still done manually, given that every other stage of the task is done by computer, including franking the letter. Perhaps it's that letter stuffers are hard to design, or that people just haven't thought of buying one in an office. I suppose also that plenty of temps would be without jobs if people didn't still have to send out letters in the post, or keep written records. They've asked me back in again on Monday so I'll be back to do much of the same thing then.

Tomorrow it's off to teach for the last scheduled teaching week of term. I have a feeling that many will want to see me next week for last minute touch ups before hand in, especially on the analysis project side that I feel may have been a bit heavy in terms of requirements. However, this may be the last time I teach in the college unless I secure some teaching for next year so it'll be an interesting day. I feel they may need rewarding with some token gifts to get those last few words in, perhaps a bag of chocolate raisins, or coated ginger might be in order. Usually you can treat them to some fun stuff, and relax on the work side, but they have too much to do so there'll be no respite for the wicked.

Time to continue the dreaded Max patch that crashed on me yesterday, and caused me to lose 2 hours of work. Macs generally don't crash, but Max/MSP seems to invariably crash at the most inopportune moments, especially on stage. It's going well, so I'll keep you updated on its progress. It doesn't do nearly enough things at the moment, but we're getting to the stage where I think it could be useable. Let's just hope that I can get something musical out of it after all this.

I've just finished a cup of Shangri-La tea, purported to be some of the finest in the world. I'm not sure I rate it so highly as the finer green teas available at Tea Art Studio, or even indeed the humble Earl Grey (only in one of the better mixes). I must admit it has a delicate flavour, and rewards repeated drinking, but perhaps my tastes are just too exotic. I think I'll be visiting Tchai Ovna soon enough for a cup of Spicemaster to warm my bones. Tomorrow night is the inaugural concert of the Sonic Fusion Festival, a festival of contemporary electro-acoustic and new 'classical' music. I'm not sure how it'll compare to Plug, especially as the two are so at odds in terms of style and content you couldn't compare them. I'll let you know what it's like.

In the park

Well. I'm sitting in the park at the moment with Leasha writing a card, and me relaxing in the sun on my big green blanket. This blanket was bought in Austria at our family reunion about 15 years ago, when numerous members of my family attended. I remember having had a really great time with my cousins, and being envious that they spoke fluent German and could talk to anyone there. This wasn't really repeated until about ten years later in Spain, at my Gran's 80th party celebration/reunion. By this time our family had expanded and my little niece had been born- both my brother and his wife were in attendance. It's amazing how much, and how little nearly ten years can put between people. I guess I'd grown up by that point, from an annoying brat with short blonde hair and a penchance for extra large t-shirts into a more mature individual. This didn't seem to stop me having just as much fun with my cousins, although they argued among themselves as usual, often in Norwegian. Mind you we ate really great food and went to a few really good places to eat and drink. Seems like a while ago now, but there's one planned in September for Italy, which I'd be eager to go on although my parents seem to have found an excuse not to attend. Milan'd be a really great place to visit, and I'll always welcome an excuse to practise my Italian. Now there's just finding a way to cover the very reasonable - although difficult to justify - plane fare. I was hoping a rich family benefactor might sub me on this account, so we'll have to wait and see. I'll keep you updated.
This reminds me of the time when I was driving down to Italy with my cousins in the back of our Peugot 206. I don't remember when this was, just that it was a very long time ago, and I didn't feel as cramped in the back of the car as I would do now. Also the age difference between my cousins and I seemed a little bigger than when I've seen them recently. The kids were in the back of the car, enjoying themselves as only we could when we're that young, and my dad was driving with my mum giving directions from the oversized map of Italy. We had all the windows open because of the heat (it was the middle of a very hot Italian summer), and the wind was blowing through the car as we drove down the motorway. One moment my mum was consulting the map, and the next the page we were on had flow out the window. There was so much air passing through the car it wasn't really surprising it got blown away. However, we did ok because dad remembered that the road simply continued straight along the coast, and that we didn't really need to turn off till way further South so we continued the uninterruptible glorious weather and scenery. We stopped much further down - on the next page - at a service station and stopped in the queue, at which point all of up except my dad got out because it instantly became too hot to be in the car. A car pulled up behind, and lo and behold, on the bumper there was the missing page of the map, stuck for a hundred miles. My cousin retrieved it and it was reunited, much to the surprise of my parents.
I can't say I remember much else about the trip, as those yearly trips to Italy seem to blend into one. Spent by the pool with many books, and trips to various cities to see some of the best works of art in the world. Sitting in the park here now seems like a million miles away, although just different rather than better.

About Time

Time flies doesn't it? I got to thinking it was about time I made another post. Kyle Gann hasn't posted in a while and I think he's taking some time out for obvious reasons. Things have been all of a change recently, and as last time, I don't know where the time's gone since I was away in Sussex. It's nearly a week since I last posted, and since then, looking back in my diary, a lot's happened. The dreaded Thing concert has come and gone with nothing inasmuch as a whisper, almost as if we've become accustomed to the rigmarole of contemporary concerts, something that was probably to be expected given the number that occurred last week. I think the Thing gig may have been overshadowed somewhat by the opera on at the Academy, the opening night of Don Giovanni across the road and another sold-out concert at the Royal Concert Hall. So much for contemporary music taking the lime light, which I guess it's never really done. At least we got a half decent review, and I get mentioned (hint: I'm the piano). Well at least it's a start in the world of showbiz, a daunting and pock-filled lifestyle. I'm really glad we had an opportunity to take a large part in a festival of new music, and that we're not just doing any old music. Aside from the Thing gig that week, there were three other concerts I managed to get to: an electroacoustic gig on Tuesday that opened Plug, which featured some really high quality ideas and forward thinking, even if some of the electronics didn't go quite to plan (always a problem if you're doing something experimental). They were pretty much all loud and boisterous affairs, with something quite unique to say in each one, and even the head of electro said they were all on their own in the ideas phase. I'm glad to see he has the mettle to push students in their own direction, to encourage them against their own grain. Following that there was Gareth's infamous opera on Wednesday, along with Simon's new music theatre piece, both really quite substantial and impressive pieces in their own right, that stood out as some of the real quality moments of the week. It just smacked of the fact that someone's done their homework, and they were rewarded by a quality 5-star review. Not that they care about reviews. Last of all was the RSAMD Sinfonietta gig on Friday, with three excellent pieces. I've got to say I was most impressed by the two 'least mature' composers' works, which displayed a certain quality I've not really experienced elsewhere. I'm not sure what it is, just that it's impressive, loud and slightly intimidating. I think the concert was let down by a programming error, that is a brass quintet played a Souster piece, which didn't fit in the slightest with the seriousness (if that's something music can be) of the other works. I would liked to see it on its own, but it just didn't work with the others, and may even have detracted from them in some way or another.

My teaching on Friday went well, and I'm sure my students will be on track by the time we get to this Friday, at least they'd better be because it's possibly the last lesson before hand in time. I think they're all aware of the amount of work that is required of them. It was glorious weather on Friday, and I'm sure some of them were dying to be outside, as I was. The view out the office window is truly amazing, and you can see the Royal Mile, the castle and Arthur's Seat, as well as the sea. The sky was a deep blue colour, and no clouds obscured it at all, much like today. I journeyed back towards the train station, basking in the glorious colour and vibrance as and when I could. I arrived just past Tollcross near Greyfriars, and walked round to the University library to return the dreaded Kramer book, that I sourced just in time for the lesson on Time Analysis with my students. No emotion betrayed itself despite the journey I passed in order to obtain it, and I returned outside to the University garden and sat under a tree reading 'Carry On, Jeeves' until six o'clock. I was hardly aware of the time passing, and it was still as hot as it ever was at that time as I passed the museum and over the Royal Mile towards Waverley station. I still had a few minutes before my train so I rested awhile in Princes Street gardens, before the train tracks, under the monument and on the slope of the grass. There were quite a few people seated there, observing carefully the cordoned-off area, respecting the need of the turf to revitalise. As I was waiting, two groups of kids converged on the path just above me, and a representative from each stepped forward. One punch was thrown, and the kid nearest me hit the ground pretty quick. A girl started screaming for help and both groups meandered away while she cradled him. It seemed like the offending gang weren't bothered about being noticed, and even his gang had disowned him for one reason or another. A few people nearer than me crowded round at the screams, and a policeman was called to judge the damage. I realised it was time for me to leave, and I crossed the road towards the station just as a police car pulled up. I stopped at Marks and Spencer's and picked up refreshments for the journey back, as I knew I wouldn't have time to stop for dinner between train and concert. I can recommend the banana smoothie, much to my taste, except that it contained reduced fat yoghurt, whereas the mango smoothie contains full fat - bizarre anomoly or judgment on the part of the M&S chefs? My train arrived back in ten minutes before the concert at the RSAMD was due to start, and I hot-footed it across town to take my seat just as the doors were closed and the evening started.

After the concert and subsequent trip to the pub I had what I might term a 'last meeting', at least a parting of ways. I'm not sure of the direction we'll both take but I certainly feel like a change has taken place. Maybe for the best but I'm not sure of my emotional state regarding this one. We'll just have to see how things move forwards, or if they even go in a particular direction. I'm quite happy just getting on with my own thing at the moment, and I need some time to stabilise, that's obvious enough to anyone.

The rest of the weekend was taken up with copious amounts of socialising, starting with tea and well... no go with Helena, although I did feel thoroughly revitalised afterwards, especially with the vegetable noodle soup that tasted simple and fresh. After that I journeyed to the park to be surprised by heavy rainfall, and took shelter and solace in Beanscene none too far away. From this point onwards things became increasingly blurred, and I can only really account for any time after meeting Leasha today and visiting the park in blissful weather and enjoying Thai Sweet Chilli crisps. I remember visiting Blue Dog and having several cocktails, including a prematurely abandoned Martini on Saturday night. I'm back on the planet now and the internet has reinstated itself so hopefully I can fill in regular updates. I'm on for the interview in the Hague for definite two weeks tomorrow, but I still haven't decided when I'm returning from Sussex to Glasgow, as I haven't booked tickets after my return from the Hague on the 24th. Perhaps I can take some time to recuperate and plan following whatever decision they make regarding my application. Time to write a proper Max patch that works as well...

Since my agency hasn't found me any work for this week I'm home bound, although the weather's great so I'm going to take advantage and spend it in the park if at all possible. I think I'm needing some time to read all those things sitting on the book shelf requiring my attention. And now for Ginseng tea with honey for a pick-me up.

Lunch and High Tea

Sometimes I wish for something a bit simpler in life. The life of a musician couldn't be more complicated. It's not like we can just be a musician and get away with that as an income. I think most musicians I know that sustain themselves on their own means have to at least teach their instrument, play gigs, struggle, take odd jobs and generally be particularly resourceful. I don't know how we put up with it. I think it must have something to do with a pure love for the subject - noone would sacrifice all that for something they didn't truly believe in - and most of the musicians I know are passionate to the point of obsession. It was said recently that playing in an orchestra was one of the most stressful jobs one can take, due to the high demands on the performer - workload and such - and the extremely low pay scale.

That's why I thought I'd write an album and release it. It seems like one of the only ways to really get noticed.

Late one last night. I got back in about 4.30, an wasn't quite sure where the time went. I only really meant to go out for coffee, but you know how it goes: coffee, chat, more coffee, transcription of Rachmaninov song, Chinese takeaway, film, cocktails, more coffee and discovering how time has flown. I bumped into a drunk girl who was mumbling about being accosted by random men asking her to come back to their apartment. She asked if I could accompany her home, and offered for me to come and play acoustic guitar. I kindly declined as I thought probably both I and her could probably only do with one thing at that time - sleep. So I walked her to Great Western Road and she assured me she only lived on Cecil Street so I bade her good night and went on my way home. Earlier on in the evening I did quite a lot of talking about life, circumstances and outcomes and realised it's just really important to have fun whatever you're doing, and not worry too much about the future if it's not going to directly affect its outcome.

On Sunday night I purchased roughly £100 worth of travel. I think I got quite a lot for that. I blogged about the end of May being a nightmarish time, but now it seems quite straightforward as I've purchased the tickets, although the end is still open. I'm off to Manchester on the 19th, staying there over the weekend with a friend, seeing a play by another friend from Italy, chatting with him over some coffee about the nature of interdisciplinary performance, the problems and pitfalls, and our own solutions. I'm then going to Holland on Monday for my interview at the Hague, and I'm staying with a very nice friend who used to study here in Scotland, but has gone over for the bright lights and illustrious staff list of the Royal Conservatoire. I'm then coming back on the 24th to London. Now either here I'm meeting up with people from Italy, and we're staying in Sussex or I'm staying there on my own, or I'm coming back to Scotland straightaway. Who knows what'll happen... and who cares. Either way it'll be an excuse to pull affairs together and take Time Out.

Best be off - lunch and high tea for me today with a Thing rehearsal inbetween. Wish me luck.

Verbose explanation

I think it's about time I talked, as it's been a while. I've even been prompted to blog by a friend, so it's high time. I was thinking about explaining what's happened over the last few days. It seems like it's been a busy time. I didn't even feel like like talking today because I almost had too much to say. Maybe that's crazy but sometimes it seems like there's so much to say it's not worth saying anything. That said I had a good time, enjoyed some music - particularly good piece by a friend of mine.

Right - so on Wednesday I arrived back in Scotland from my blissful time in Chichester. I left Merston at approximately 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and got into my flat here in Glasgow at 7.30pm. Not bad going methinks, and it seemed like the easiest trip ever. I'm quite pleased I'm back because the weather here on Friday and Saturday was nothing short of idyllic. The sun was out in full force, and unlike the previous occasions this year it was having an impact. My students were out playing ball in the field outside the department, and it certainly didn't seem like a day for analysing bizarre 20th century music. However, they were good spirited and we had an excellent and productive lesson. Backtracking a little, on Wednesday evening I received at about 11 o'clock, by email, a score for the rehearsal the following day. You'll find the details of the concert on my website, but suffice to say I'm playing a solo (albeit short) at the beginning of the second piece. I wouldn't have been so bothered if a) he'd sent it to me at least a week before so I could at least practice it on a real piano and b) it wasn't _so_ difficult I had to go and have a cup of tea to recover after just looking at the score and tempo marking. We were playing it the next day, and I had till 10 o'clock in the morning to learn it, if only for the rehearsal. I did my best, and although it's better now I don't like not being able to play things in rehearsals. We received one of the other works as we sat down to start, and although this is all very 'new music' and exciting to get a score hot off the press, it's good to have a look over it before starting the rehearsal. The rest of the rehearsal went very smoothly and I was reasonably happy with the results. We went out for a coffee and then pizza afterwards, and it wasn't until about 9pm that I realised I was so dog tired from having travelled so far the previous day, then having spent the whole day in a rehearsal that I just needed to go home and collapse. Which I promptly did. I've pretty much mastered the piano part now, and given that I've had it for four days, I think it's pretty good going.

On Friday after I finished working in Edinburgh I travelled back to Glasgow by train, and stopped at Vroni's where my flatmate works. It's a pretty nice wine bar in the centre of Glasgow, and if you're passing through it's worth a look, if only for the wonderful staff there. I only called in to say hi, but I agreed to meet Helena later there, and although I managed to distract myself suitably and the time seemed to just disappear before I had to return, I was in high spirits because of the weather. Also I like wearing lecturing clothes (jacket and smart trousers with a smart top - not shirt). I was only going to meet Helena for a drink and hang out for a bit as it was a Friday and felt I should do something, but we ended up staying till closing, and I drank copious amounts of wine and thoroughly enjoyed myself. We then - I know not why - proceeded to Blue Dog to get totalled. I bought G&Ts, which Helena has no recollection of, and talked to an old friend I bumped into for a while before I found my dancing shoes and then staggered back with Helena before realising it was 4. Helena berated me on the return journey for having accompanied her because apparently women should be safe to walk home on their own in the middle of the night. I tried to point out that I simply chose to leave at the same time as her, and on prior reflection you're generally safer in twos than on your own at night, male or female.

I woke up at nine to remind Helena she had to orchestra, but she was already awake and walking around in a dazed and ponderous fashion. I offered her cereal but she said she didn't want sweet things or milk, so opted for the empty stomach and hangover. I think she'd probably have only settled for porridge anyway, and I didn't have any of that. I spent the rest of the morning learning the piano part and remembering funny things from the previous night, after which I dozed, and then we spent the afternoon in the park enjoying the wondrous rays of heavenly bodies. And eating ice slush drinks which made me completely hyper for about five minutes before I crashed, but that was ok because the sun was out. Later I fell asleep in front of Howl's Moving Castle - dubbed in English and not as good as the Japanese - before I crawled into bed for a much needed kip.

This week holds concerts, rehearsals and the planning of the end of May, which is becoming increasingly complicated. Actually I won't start about that because I'll never finish writing...

Mangoes and Passion Fruit

Today I prepared an application for the Hague Conservatoire (Holland). I realised I had everything with me in order to do the application, so I went ahead. No application fee and no problem, it's all basically in the bag in a day. There's hardly a chance in hell of me actually being able to attend the course, due to financial difficulties and other complications, but it's good experience to put it in in the first place. Of course if they ask me for interview it's an excuse to go abroad as well, especially to go to Amsterdam for a day.

I've been assessing the 'further study options' situation with my parents over the last few days, and came to the conclusion that I have several options - not a new conclusion, but let's look at it like this.

The Hague has the people I would like most to study with, a lively music scene (to say the least) and first rate facilities. However it rains a lot and can be a little grim. The food's not up to much either - I've never eaten so many grey dishes.
Italy (Bologna, Firenze, Roma ecc.) have good facilities, a pretty much nonexistent contemporary music scene and a few people I would consider studying with. However the bonus here is that it's an amazing place to live, somewhere I would definitely think about spending some upcoming years in.
UK:
The Academy in London has first rate facilities, an unparalleled music scene (to be disputed see last post) and plenty of people to study with. However they can be very snobby about stylistic elements, although there's no reason to think I couldn't carve a niche, but the conservatoires are very stuck in their ways. Weather's better than Glasgow at least, but the major problem here is the cost - too much to shelf on my poor little shoulders unless something major happened in the way of funding or lucrative job prospects.
University of Manchester recently acquired first rate facilities, a growing and burgeoning music scene including a voracious appetite for electronic music. As for friends I seem to have plenty still hanging around from my time there as an undergraduate, and I'm sure I'd meet plenty in the time to come. The weather is manageable (stuck it out for four years, can't have been too bad) but the major problem here is the staff. There's noone there in the Classical department that I'd feel happy studying with [again] so I'd probably end up doing electro-acoustic as my major component, not an unwelcome prospect.
York - the outsider - first rate facilites, but an ageing staff and cold weather. Sleepy but particularly beautiful town, with a great bakery.

From this analysis, it looks like I have to make either a compromise or an informed choice. Italy is my first option: great food and lifestyle but I compromise on the scene, unless I create one for myself. Hague for great music making but nothing interesting about the lifestyle - I'd probably want to move again, plus I wouldn't get a PhD, no small thing to ignore. UK for home territory, home cooking and a burdensome expense, but some great friends and plenty of already established contacts.

Oh! There are too many things to think about, especially as I still don't know what I'm doing for the next year. I think, though, that the first thing is to settle my debts and get a decent salary for the coming months, and see what comes my way while I'm doing whatever life throws at me. Best just to watch this space and do everything I can to enjoy life, especially as the summer is coming. Time to practise the piano, play bass and drink tea. I'm playing bass, and piano in the upcoming Thing gig. Doesn't worry me too much, as I'm reasonably confident about my bass playing skills, but playing in a concert is something I haven't done for a long time, maybe 5 years - I suppose it'll be something to put on the CV! First rehearsal Thursday, I'll let you know how it goes.

Oh and I forget... I've put music from Crisma and the last Thing gig on my website so if you get bored you can go listen. I'll be getting the Crisma DVD soon, and it's been entered for the Premio DAMS della Universita di Bologna - fingers crossed. I'll put a short streaming excerpt on the website, as soon as I figure out how to do that on my Mac.

Let's trust in the little ones

Still at home. I must say that it's still being very therapeutic. I spent yesterday evening and a lot of today in London seeing an old friend. It seems like she's been away for as long as I can remember, and although she's been working in the capital for a month or two now I haven't had the chance to see her. It made the prospect of moving away from Scotland even more complicated, now that she's rekindled my interest in London. This was initially nipped in the bud by the London-skeptic crowd resident at the RSAMD. Little was I to know about the harsh feelings towards the scene down there until I touched the water a few months in to my time at the Academy, when I discovered the strong sentiments evident in many peers. However this would never stay me from moving or studying there, or at least giving it a try. What would keep me in my place is the chaotic life, and dependency on a regular income that is required there. There is just no way that anyone without a decent salary could even afford to stay there for a month or two. That and the fact that just getting from A to B is a major expense and hassle for the city dweller. Despite these two glaring barriers to my move, I would still consider it because it offers an unprecedented array of... well everything you could possibly ever want or imagine in terms of material possessions and entertainment. Plus it's near to many people I know, and my family if I want to endure weekend trips to rural parochialism.

It's funny when someone's been away for so long, how you slip back into talking about things that happened so long ago with a sense that it really was only last week. We reminisced about trips to the pub as if we could just walk in there right now, almost as if we still lived around the corner and everyone was still there that we knew. We ate chinese food in china town, had a truly abysmal bottle of wine - we tried to send it back but were told it was just 'like that' - and then proceeded to a very English pub for a few pints of imported lager and chit chat. A most pleasing evening in all, and we trekked back to Brixton to kip in a most surprising house. I can't really find words to describe the ambience of it, but it was just so very 'London'. Painted white staircase - very shiny, slanting door frames and a stained glass front door panel. It seemed to remind me of many houses I've been in before, but from a long time ago. I'm not sure what it was that made it so familiar, but perhaps it was something about the staircase. I remember visiting a friend of my parents' house in Brighton, which had four floors, and a similar winding staircase with woven, rough carpet that only covered the centre section, and was held down by brass fittings. There was something about the way that the rooms had a different layout on every floor, and it had a lived-in feeling that you felt extended for several centuries. I think that's the type of property I'd like to own when I get to the appropriate time in life. Somewhere I feel I can do justice to the previous owner's efforts, and somewhere that has a little history and mystery. It's almost like it's the quintessential townhouse that I would like, on a street that's just far enough away to not be city centre, but close enough to not be on the periphery. Somewhere that I could have as a base that I could return to at any time, without the necessity of having to feel I lived there.

Having said this, I'm sitting in a little cottage in rural Sussex, under the eaves in the study, which used to be my first bedroom in this house until my brother moved out and I could have the bigger room. Times have not changed as much as I'd ever expected since we moved here. I remember sleeping soundly through the big storm in 1989 in this room, then being in the next room watching the water proceed during the flooding a couple of years later. We've been through a lot, this house and this family, and since my parents are thinking of putting the house on the market again in a few weeks, I thought it due for a little reflection of the times I've been here. I think my favourite memories are sitting in the patio at the back and drinking coke in the blazing sunshine in the summer, or having that party on my 17th birthday where everyone stayed over and slept in the bouncy castle. I remember driving the sit-on mower around the garden when we first came here and it still worked (long since disposed of now), and when we had ducks for many years in the garden, and having fresh duck eggs almost every morning and them being like nothing else I've ever tasted.

My niece was here today for dinner, and my mum, my brother, my niece and I all walked up to the duck pond in the village and then along to the church. I reflected that I must have done this same walk when we first moved to Merston when I was about the same age as Chloe is now, and must have had about as much fun feeding the ducks that she had today. It's funny how things change, and others stay the same, that we still rely on the same activities, but for different reasons. I feel like I should stay here to carry on the legacy, show my children the duck pond and drive them around the garden on a tractor, but then I remember that my parents moved about a lot, and it's only _my_ family home, and not theirs too. Which makes me think that maybe it's time to wipe the slate clean again, forget the past and look to the future with a new house, a different style of life and a renewed maturity. Not that it's even my house, but I still feel that this is our family house since this is where we spend Christmas, and where I return to home-home when I want to get away from things.

But enough reminiscing, I've got 'Selva', 'Crisma', the electro project and the Synthesis Project to worry about, not to mention 'Thing' are having a gig the week after next. Better get my busy socks back on (Spanish nuovo style), and tackle those much needed tasks. Let's go and make a list... first: eat rest of Easter eggs.