Archive for the ‘ Ramblings ’ Category

Quirky, but unspectacular


The writer of Book Calendar, a blog about books (among other things) from an American librarian and keen reader, tagged me with one of those memes which encourages bloggers to reveal random facts about themselves to the world.  So, first the rules of the meme, and then the results chez Singing Librarian.

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Mention the rules.
3. Tell six unspectacular quirks of yours.
4. Tag six bloggers by linking.
5. Leave a comment for each blogger.
6. There is no sixth rule, but I feel there really should be.

So.  Unspectacular quirks.  That’s an interesting one, as I tend to think of quirks as being fairly remarkable things, but remarkable does not necessarily equal spectacular.  I also need to make sure that I haven’t mentioned them before, as that would break the spirit, though not the letter, of the meme.

1 – Although I really don’t like tomatoes (or tomato sauce, or tomato soup or even Heinz baked beans), I am very fond of pizza.  Chicken, or pepperoni, or mixed meat, or ham and pineapple, or even vegetarian, pizza is great as long as it doesn’t have actual slices of tomato on it.  I’m told that the vile fruit contains some important nutritional thingummies, so I even feel vaguely virtuous when I eat it.

2 – I can survive quite happily in a messy office or bedroom, but there are certain things that just have to be tidy.  CDs for instance.  My cast recordings are arranged alphabetically by composer, then by show, then (if necessarily) chronologically by recording date for multiple recordings of the same show.  Releases by individual artists are filed alphabetically and classical recordings are arranged by composer.  Sometimes Sir Arthur Sullivan causes a minor problem as I try to define a line between classical and musical theatre, but otherwise my mind feels much happier with everything in the correct order.  I even rearrange CDs in shops if somebody has carelessly put something back in the wrong place.  It is important, though I have no idea why, when my general environment is approaching a state of entropy.

3 – I hate being late for anything, and have been known to make my watch run a few minutes fast in order to avoid this possibility.  Work, church, rehearsals, parties, it really doesn’t matter.  I will arrive early, and if necessary take a walk or three around the block until the appointed hour has truly arrived.  I am gradually managing to acclimatise to lateness, though, and will no doubt become spectacularly unreliable in a decade or two.

4 – My general male inability to remember what clothes people may have worn recently is quite pronounced.  A few days ago, I was wandering through the supermarket and realised that I had no idea what colour shirt I might have been wearing, as it was hiding underneath a jacket.  I don’t think this was a typical senior moment, just a demonstration of just how little impact clothes make on me.

5 – On stage, my most notable quirk is that I’m not a fan of either curtain calls or follow spots, which are often beloved by most performers, whether amateur or professional.  I find both of them rather embarrassing, perhaps because they are impossible to explain within the world of the show.  Singing and dancing can, if you accept the conventions, flow from heightened emotions, but follows spots really can’t.  I was very pleased that my ‘Soliloquy’ performance lacked a follow-spot – the lighting man and the director decided that it would ruin the song, which it certainly would have done.  Curtain calls are also odd things, particularly if a solo bow is called for – I always feel awkward, as it feels as though I am rudely demanding applause from the audience.  And yet, as an audience member, I generally appreciate the chance to clap my favourite performers loudly, and even give a cheer if I am particularly excited.  Double standards…

6 – I am far too indecisive.  It has taken me a very long time to post this because I could not decide what to put as my sixth unspectacular quirk, so in the end I decided that indecision itself had to go here.  Some people could argue that my inability to make a decision is actually a rather spectacular quirk, and I will indeed sometimes go out of my way to avoid making a choice.  I’m not talking about the really big decisions in life, though they don’t come easily.  I’m talking about the little ones.  Which book to read next, or what to have to drink.  Even whether to have anything to drink at all.  These things can bring me to a dead halt as my brain refuses to work with me, so a meal out can be a strange form of torture to my soul, albeit one that has a delicious aftertaste.

So there you have it, six quirks which may or may not be unspectacular.  Now for the tagging.

1 – Aphra, because even if the quirks are already known to readers of her blog, her explanations will be highly readable.  ‘Danger of eclectic shock’ is her tagline, and readers can certainly expect eclecticism.

2 – Helen.  I always enjoy reading her blog, but don’t comment as much as I should.  Musings here are generally concerned either with the act of writing or the actions of young Kiko, who I feel I know better than I know any toddlers that I actually encounter in everyday life.  Kiko certainly has quirks (in a good way!), so I can’t help wondering what Helen’s may be.

3 – mrspao.  I suspect that some, if not all, quirks could well be connected with either cats or knitting, but I’m interested regardless of whether this prediction is true. I should confess that I know mrspao in real life and knew her in a non-internet context before an internet one.

4 – Reed, who is one of the most articulate, amusing, readable writers I’ve encountered. Her writings are often on the subject of writing, and although I know she hasn’t blogged recently due to the perils of work/study/life balance, I’d love to see her do so again. With no obligation, of course. Feel free, Reed (and anyone else) to ignore my tagging. I’ve ignored a meme or to in my time.

5 – Music Man. Another currently silent blog, belonging to a fellow amateur thespian, though one further North than I.

6 – You, if you feel that you wish to share six unspectacular quirks with your readership.  I’m certainly interested (or is that nosy?) enough to read what you might like to write…

2008
09/09
CATEGORY
Ramblings
TAGS






5 comments

Pub quiz of doom


Quizzes are, in my opinion, a very pleasant way to spend an evening, particularly if you do so alongside nice people.  There is exercise for the brain, there is pleasant company, there is camaraderie, rivalry and a soupcon of tension.  There can be banter, lively debates about the correct responses, moments of amused frustration when the right answers are revealed and even a thrilling tie-breaker.  So, in company with four lovely people and a slightly bewildered guide dog, I was looking forward to a good evening as we descended upon the Olde Beverlie pub.  The event turned out to be highly amusing, but not really for the expected reasons.

The team was merrily chortling, and even weeping with laughter, very early on in proceedings as the quizmaster announced the rounds, so that we could choose where to play our joker.  “Round 1,” he told us “is General Knowledge 1.”  Fair enough, most quizzes could do with a round or two of general knowledge questions.  “Round 2 is General Knowledge 2.”  OK…  Perhaps it would have been better to mix the rounds up a bit, but we can cope.  “Round 3 is… General Knowledge 3.”  Oh, dear.  By this point, murmurs were going around the venue and it was with a sense of great anticipation that we awaited news of round 4.  Sure enough, General Knowledge 4.  “Are you sure?” shouted one team as our table slowly lost control and displayed varying levels of mirth.  Undeterred, we were informed that the next round, predictably, would be General Knowledge 5.  Thankfully, round 6 would be a specialist round, where the joker could not be played.  But round 7 would be… General Knowledge 7, of course.  Though surely it should have been General Knowledge 6 as there was a definite lack of that number?  No, 7 it was and would remain.  Then there’d be General Knowledge 8 and the Who/What/Where Am I round, just for a touch of variety.  “So you’ll be playing your jokers blind.”  No kidding.

At this point, I should mention that not only did the quizmaster have the most boring voice imaginable (frankly, I’ve heard more interesting voices emanating from the software that reads scanned books aloud) and microphone technique that belonged in a wedding scene from a second rate romantic comedy.  Nobody had ever told him that microphones and speakers are not very good friends, so the entire evening had a soundtrack of squeaks, whistles and groans from the sound system, sometimes varied by the quizmaster whistling into his mic. – not an activity that is likely to win you many friends.

Having had Mr Deadpan and his Public Address Orchestra tell us the names of the rounds, we paused while team names and monies were collected.  Our table agreed that the laughter brought on by being told that “Round 8 is General Knowledge 8” was worth the one pound admission fee in itself.  This was just as well, for the evening had truly peaked at this point, though the team that aptly named itself ‘Generally Knowledgeable’ certainly made a bid for Mr Deadpan’s comedy crown.

Questions were read in a barely comprehensible fashion, partly due to the ever-present feedback and partly due to the quizmaster’s accent, which grew thicker and thicker as more alcohol was consumed.  They followed relentlessly one after the other, with no breaks between rounds until the half way point of marking and collecting scores, which was probably demanded by the barman so that the quizzers could have a chance to buy some refreshing beverages.

Because our quizmaster is a natural comedian, he would sometimes tell us the wrong answer to a question, then say, with barely a moment’s pause “just kidding, it’s…”  There are times when this could be funny, but when you’re mumbling into a badly-used microphone and displaying signs of inebriation, it’s just annoying.  Comic timing is not a skill that appears to be necessary to host a quiz.  To be fair to the man, he did appeal for someone else to organise a future quiz or two to give him a rest, but he really was the worst quiz host I’ve ever encountered.  The event had amusement value, but largely from cringing in horror at his extraordinarily politically incorrect comments or growing ever more frustrated with his microphone technique.  It’s not a pub quiz I’m likely to attend again.  Consider this an official unrecommendation.

If you do go, they’ll probably have reached General Knowledge 74…

[UPDATE: For a different, more amusing, view on the same event, see Lyndall’s post Publicly Quizzical.]

2008
08/12
CATEGORY
Ramblings
TAGS
4 comments

Something new every day


They say that you learn something new every day. This is probably true, even if it’s only something that’s seen, read or heard in the news, but I suspect we all forget many old things each day. I sometimes wonder whether new things push specific old things out of the memory banks and whether the volume of lyrics, tunes and useless facts about musicals stored in my head will one day have a disastrous effect, as something vital such as ‘alphabetical order’ or ‘how to breathe’ falls out of my ears as yet another song goes in. Recently, in addition to everything I’ve been learning for my various performing exploits, I have learned some more unusual things, which I thought I’d share.

1 – Bad posture can have painful results.On Monday, I woke up and my neck was very cross with me. The muscles in the right hand side of it were tight and angry, meaning that I could not fully turn my head to the left, and would get twinges of sharp pain when moving suddenly or when lying down. This was probably Officer Krupke’s responsibility, as it was noted in Sunday’s rehearsal that my Krupke posture was not going to do my back and neck any favours due to the way I was holding my shoulders. Or alternatively, I may have jarred the muscles when rehearsing the scene where Krupke falls over one of the Jets. Either way, a change of Krupke posture and some appropriate gentle stretching exercises gradually righted the problem. My advice – be careful, bad posture hurts!

2 – I cannot do an Irish accent. I really can’t. Monday evening was the first script read-through of Titanic, and one of the people that was missing was the young chap who plays Jim Farrell, third class passenger on the voyage. I was asked to read in for him and although his first line was delivered in a passably Irish manner, things simply went downhill from there until you’d have been hard-pressed to tell that the poor chap was human, let alone Irish. On the positive side, it did cause minor amusement to my fellow cast members, which was increased at the nadir of my accent attempts, when a particularly atrocious sound gave me a case of the giggles and caused me to go bright red as I struggled for air. I shall stick to the various English, Scots and American accents that I actually can do in future.

3 – The sense of smell can be numbed. On Tuesday, I helped at a family fun day organised by the local churches, where I spent the best part of four hours either serving or cooking sausages which were handed out free to grateful members of the public. I love sausages, but being part of the cooking and serving of several thousand sausages may have curbed my enthusiasm slightly. After only half an hour or so, I realised that I could no longer smell the sausages that were merrily cooking on the BBQ. My nose must have had enough and simply given up.

4 – An empty glove is not a good thing to be.The wonderful Archbishop of York was a part of Tuesday’s event and gave a great message about what it means to be a Christian. He compared life without God to being a glove without a hand in it – floppy and directionless. But being filled by God is like a glove is like a glove being filled by a hand, now able to wave, shake hands, bake a cake or do the hand jive (OK, so the Archbishop didn’t actually mention doing the hand jive, but you get the idea). He was speaking of Jesus’ statement that He came so that we could have life in all its fullness, not just a little bit of life, but an awful lot of Life. It was a clear, direct and inspirational message.

5 – One of my defining qualities is agelessness. It tends to be said that I look younger than I am, and I thought the cast of West Side Story were going to prove this when one of them guessed my age as 24. Unfortunately, yesterday, one of them (who is 13 but has the cheek to look at least 16) decided to guess my age and came up with the figure of 35. Yikes. I’m 29, and will turn 30 the day before the curtain rises for our production of Titanic. There’s nothing wrong with being 35, but really… However, to a 13-year-old, surely anything past about 21 is ‘ancient’.

6 – I’m a big softie. I don’t cry at films or books, and the only things I’ve seen in the theatre that I recall making my cry are Cabaret and Blood Brothers (though Parade and Billy Elliotmust both have been close to bringing on the waterworks). However, on Friday, we reached the final scene of West Side Story in a run-through, and there I was with tears trickling down my cheeks, so that I had to nip outside and dry my eyes before we set the bows. The last couple of scenes are deeply emotional for my more serious character, Doc, but even so… I don’t normally get deeply invested in my characters and this was a run-through in a hot room in a school, with very few costumes, with a few stops and starts and with only plastic chairs as the set, so I don’t know why it got to me. It did, though, so the only conclusion must be that I’m a big softie. I’m hoping that I get over this by the time we open on Wednesday, but who knows. Perhaps I’ll be a blubbering mess all week.

So there we have it. Six things that I’ve discovered this week. What’s your ‘something new’ for the day?

2008
08/02
CATEGORY
Christianity
Ramblings
Theatre
TAGS





2 comments

In which the Singing Librarian is very busy


I had thought that my weeks would be quiet and peaceful now that the librarianship course is truly in the past, but this was clearly foolishness on my part.  The life of the Singing Librarian is rarely quiet, and I’m not sure that I’d like it very much if it was, which is a rather good thing.  Aside from the usual work and church life, I have managed to pile rehearsal upon rehearsal in a glorious mixture of different ways to fill my evenings and weekends as I work towards four different projects.

First, a series of concerts with Canterbury Operatic Society, to be performed from 12th to 19th July.  These include a mix of old and new tunes from George Gershwin’s ‘Summertime’ to pop hit ‘You Raise Me Up’ and numbers from Spamalot and Wicked.  In addition to the choral work, some of which I love, some of which I’m really not enjoying, I’m wheeling out old faithful ‘Mister Cellophane’ as a solo.

The next project is West Side Story, to be performed in August at the Marlowe Theatre.  I have managed to get myself drafted in as a replacement for an adult cast member who disappeared somehow, possibly lost down the back of the sofa, and am in the slightly bizarre position of rehearsing the role of Doc, who owns the store which the Jets hang out in.  It’s a nice part, appearing in only three scenes but going quite an emotional journey.  However, Doc is usually played by someone about twice my age, so I don’t yet know (having only had one rehearsal so far) whether I will be aging up or whether Doc will just be unusually young in this production.  I’m working with Phoenix Performing Arts, a local performing arts school, so I have the privilege of working with a whole host of enthusiastic, talented young people.  This role is very different to anything I’ve done recently, as Doc does not sing a single word – I haven’t been in a show where I have ‘just’ acted since I left school eleven years ago.

Once the whirlwind of learning and performing West Side Story is over, my main focus will return toTitanic, which is to be performed in November, also at the Marlowe.  We are currently learning the music at super-speed, which is great fun but somewhat scary, trying to remember everything, particularly as very little of it is easy.  But, as is also true with West Side Story, I do enjoy a challenge when I’m performing.

Last, but certainly not least, is a Christmas oratorio written by a very talented friend of mine.  This will be performed in Dover in December.  At present, I’m laying down some vocal tracks for his demo CD of it, which is intended as an aid to members of the choir, and also attending some early rehearsals.  It’s wonderful stuff, great fun to sing, in a variety of different styles.

Most days see me attend at least one rehearsal or performance, with some days involving more than one of my projects.  Thus far everything has stayed straight in my head, but before long I expect things will start to leak over.  I shall communicate with students in Morse code, or arrange the Jets according to a strange interpretation of Dewey Decimal System.  Harold Bride will tell people to “call him Jesus, the Messiah and the king” or the ‘Quintet’ in West Side Story will unexpectedly gain Bride’s refrain of “the night was alive with a thousand voices”, which appears at least 18 times in the Titanic score.  Or perhaps my brain is handily compartmentalised.  We can but hope.  The Singing Librarian is very busy, and he’s loving it.

2008
07/12
CATEGORY
Ramblings
Singing
Theatre
TAGS







Leave a comment

A real librarian


It’s time to update the ‘About’ page on this blog as a number of points have been rendered untrue over the last week.  Specifically the following:

The Singing Librarian is not, technically speaking, a librarian.  He has been working in a higher education library in Kent (UK) since Autumn 2000, but does not yet have a librarianship qualification and is therefore only a quasi-librarian.  His job title is ‘Senior Library Assistant’.

And

The Singing Librarian is in the process of obtaining a librarianship qualification, but already has a BA (Hons) in English Language and Theatre Studies, as well as an MA in Literature.

One small thing has ensured that these statements are no longer true.  On Monday I received confirmation that I have passed everything necessary to obtain a Postgraduate Diploma in Information and Library Studies.  As this course is accredited by the Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals, and I’m currently continuing my secondment, it appears that I have become a real librarian in the eyes of the profession as well as the eyes of the world.

There were no trumpets, fireworks or choirs (unless you count the Titanic rehearsal on the night I found out) to accompany this new stage of the Singing Librarian’s life, but it is quite significant.  An accredited library qualification opens up a number of career possibilities within the information world, which are attractive largely because of the interesting nature of the roles rather than the money (anyone who thinks librarians are rolling in money clearly doesn’t know any librarians).  Subject specialisation, cataloguing or secondary/further education librarianship all appeal.  I don’t know where I’ll go next, but it is nice to know that I am finally a real librarian.

2008
06/28
CATEGORY
Library
Ramblings
TAGS



6 comments

Becoming Harold Bride


Faithful readers, it seems my audition-related fears were ungrounded, or at the very least, my great virtues of being young, male and alive won through for me. I will be joining the cast of Titanic in the role of Harold Bride, a young radioman. 22 years of age, he is greatly enthused by his career in telegraphy and takes his job very seriously. He has human warmth as well, and in the musical theatre one other fact is very important – he has a wonderful song to sing. Before I heard it, I would not have believed that there could be a wonderful song about the telegraph, but Maury Yeston managed it somehow.

No doubt I will also be, at some point ‘Third 2nd class passenger from the right’ as most of the cast is required to do double or triple duty to help create the impression of there being a whole ship full of people on the stage. Even if not physically required, many of us will be singing lustily in the wings between our own scenes, given that the music often takes it upon itself to divide into eight part harmony. Glorious!

Rehearsals begin on Monday, when everything will start to become clearer. However, there are various aspects of preparation I can begin at once. There is a great wealth of material about the RMS Titanic, its crew and its passengers. I have already begun exploring some web sites where research is available, including the Encyclopedia Titanica and the records of the Inquiries which were held after the disaster. Journal articles and books can also be delved into, and I suppose I might have to get around to watching James Cameron’s Titanic, which I have hitherto avoided. Although the general information is interesting, it is the details of Harold Bride’s life, and particularly his actions and feelings during April 1912, that I am looking for. What sort of a young man was he? How did he speak and act? What did he really do on the night of the sinking and why? Of course, the musical is fictionalised to a degree, but even if I have to deviate from the truth, I would like to know that I am doing so, and why.

I’m also intending to learn Morse code. There are several points when Bride is supposed to be sending messages by tapping on the key of his equipment. When this happens, particularly in the sequence where the distress signal CQD is sent, I would like to be tapping the right rhythms. It will help my performance to be able to ‘send’ messages almost without thought, and it would please me if the messages make sense. I can also imagine that audience members who are fluent in Morse code would find it very annoying if the supposed radioman is actually tapping out a message like r7mgebe4t. I know that very few audience members would have the required knowledge to notice, let alone be paying sufficient attention, but I think it’s important.

This is a wonderful part, which gives an opportunity to create (or recreate) an intriguing character and includes some interesting solo/duet singing as well as the magnificent choral music.  Though I do not mean it in a strange luvvie sort of way, I look forward to becoming Harold Bride.

2008
06/13
CATEGORY
Musicals
Ramblings
Theatre
TAGS




6 comments

After the audition


Auditions are quite horrible things, no matter how much the panel may smile encouragingly or how many times you’ve acted or sung for them before.  Nerves are a quite volatile factor.  This is, of course, true in performance as well, but nerves have a different effect in the audition room.  In performance, they act as fuel, and without some level of nervousness a performance tends to be rather lifeless.  Also, before an audience, nerves can be used or covered in the process of presenting a character to the ‘big black giant’ in the auditorium.  Not so at auditions, at least not for the singing librarian.  No matter how much I might try to convince myself that it is a performance for a small, select audience, my lungs, tongue, hands and vocal cords do not get the message, or at least choose not to act on it.

Tonight, I had an audition for the musical Titanic.  This is a wonderful show, which I’m very (though quite quietly) excited about.  The music is breathtaking, the story is moving and the opportunities for actors and singers are numerous.  In the audition, we had to sing a song, any song, unaccompanied, then do a few exercises to prove that we had some measure of musicality.  I chose to sing ‘The Old Red Hills of Home’ from Parade (see Google for a selection of videos of this song) for a variety of reasons.  Firstly, it goes quite high, as do most of the male solos in Titanic.  Secondly, it’s a wonderful song.  Thirdly, it was written around the same time as the Titanic score.  Fourthly, it could show off what I can do in terms of acting a song – presenting a variety of emotions in just a couple of minutes.  It was a choice that I thought would cover all my bases.  Unfortunately, I am painfully aware that I did not do it justice.  Audition nerves kicked in and produced a quite impressive (but entirely inappropriate) vibrato from the very first note almost until the last.  Nothing I could do would stop it, not even closing my eyes and concentrating very hard on one particular line.  The song acquired an extra layer of wobble which it certainly will not have wanted.  I could blame it on the fact that we were unaccompanied, but it was nerves, pure and simple.

The exercises seemed to go well – pick out the high note, pick out the low note, sing a pattern of notes back to the nice lady at the piano.  But still there was the vibrato haunting me.  Part of me is very disappointed with myself – I could have performed the song so much better, and indeed have sung it better as I’ve been preparing.  Part of me wonders whether I should care – I am young, I am male, I can breathe, so I could well have just sung ‘Happy Birthday’ and left it at that.  I’d have a good chance of getting a role of some kind, even if by default.  But I didn’t do as well as I could have done, and that’s not a good way to start with a director and musical director who do not know me.

Within a week, I will know the outcome and we will begin learning the music.  The wait until the moment of truth will feel long, though, as there are a lot of people who expect great things of me.  I can feel them – colleagues, friends, relatives and others – hovering over my shoulder when I audition.  The more they expect of me, or perhaps the more they believe in me, the harder I find it to just relax and do my best.  Sometimes it feels as though there’s a lot more riding on my auditions and performances than there really is.  There’s a downside to developing a fan club, and that’s the perceived need to deliver more and better things to them in each new production. 

Perhaps many people feel like this, perhaps I’m an unusual case, who knows.  I just know one thing.  Regardless of what capacity I may be performing in, I echo the passengers as they sing “I must get on that ship!”

2008
06/09
CATEGORY
Ramblings
Theatre
TAGS

5 comments

What if Prospero finished a librarianship course?


Well, it would go something like this:

My studies now are ended. These my essays,
As I foretold you, were all nonsense and
Are sent now through the mail, through the e-mail:
And, like the random ravings of a madman,
The rambling waffle, the desp’rate quoting,
The solemn abstracts, the references themselves,
Yea, all which I have written, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial blog-bound message,
Leave not a rack behind.

With apologies to William Shakespeare – The Tempest happens to be one of my favourite plays.  My final piece of coursework is indeed safely in the inbox of the course administrator, and assuming that I don’t have to resubmit anything, I am free from the shackles of my studies.  By the end of July, I should receive a certificate that proves I am a real librarian.

2008
05/12
CATEGORY
Poem
Ramblings
TAGS


2 comments

The Privilege Meme


Memes don’t often tickle my fancy, but this particular one, though unconnected with any of the usual subjects of the blog, struck me as rather interesting.  I came across it as it floated through the blogosphere, invading such blogs as Charlotte’s Web and floatykatja’s Pina Colada Blog.  It was devised by PhD students at Indiana State University – Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, and Stacy Ploskonka. If you participate, they ask that you please acknowledge their copyright.

Bold the true statements. You can explain further if you wish.

1. Father went to college.
2. Father finished college.
3. Mother went to college.
4. Mother finished college.
I’m assuming that college is in the American sense of higher education, rather than the British sense of further education (and some higher education institutions). Mum has sundry academic qualifications. Dad doesn’t, but has gained membership of various chemistry-related professional bodies through experience.

5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers.
I suppose so – I’d classify my family as middle class. The professions of parents, uncles, aunts and grandparents that I know of are teacher, quality control officer, telephone engineer, secretary, mechanic, chef and book keeper.

7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
I’m not entirely sure how many books we had at home, but enough to fill several bookcases downstairs, plus quite a number of books for us young ones in our room. I don’t actually remember being read to, but I know I was and am grateful for it – how can a child who is not read to develop a love of reading?

10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18.
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18.
Well, this is interesting, and it rather depends how you define lessons. I did all sorts of things as a member of the Boys’ Brigade, and received proper instruction in canoeing and sailing as part of this – I even have the certificates to prove it. Private lessons, though? No. Not for music, sport or anything else.

12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
I’m not sure. I’m sort of an average, nondescript person, and don’t tend to identify myself with any of the ‘types’ that we tend to see on TV and the like.  I’m neither too high nor too low a class to be portrayed negatively, I would say, except possibly as “well meaning bumbler” in a sitcom.

13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
No, I didn’t get a credit card until after I left university.

14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs.
Well, I went to university from 1997 and was part of the last year of students before we had to pay for our own tuition fees. My accommodation costs were covered by the good old student loan, my parents helped me out with money for food, and I made up the rest by working part time. So my parents paid some of my costs, but not the majority.

16. Went to a private high school.
No, no, no. And again no. Many people tend to assume my educational background is more privileged than it is. I attended a comprehensive school. A very good comprehensive school, but still.

17. Went to summer camp.
If you count Boys’ Brigade camp, which I attended once.

18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
Nope.

19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels.
Certainly not. Canvas all the way for us, apart from at ‘Spring Harvest’ (a Christian conference/holiday thingummy over the Easter period) which involved staying at Butlins or Pontins sites. I have stayed in a hotel twice in my life. Once when our car broke down and we couldn’t reach the next campsite, so the AA kindly paid for overnight stay in a rather grotty establishment, and once on the night after a friend’s wedding.

20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them.
I’ve never had driving lessons, let alone a car, so that one’s out. I am the oldest child in my family, but I got hand-me-downs from various older boys in the church.

22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
I suppose some of my mother’s embroidery, or the wooden parrot which an Italian p.o.w. made for her when she was a young girl might count as original art, but not in the privilege sense. The parrot, by the way, is very cool, and balances perfectly on a little strip of metal – you can even set it rocking.

23. You and your family lived in a single-family house.
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home.
25. You had your own room as a child.
Yes, our house was owned by my parents, or at least they owed the mortgage company for it. I believe they own it outright now, and the household consisted of myself, mum, dad, sister and the occasional pet. Little sister and I shared a room until we moved house when I was nine or ten years old, then we got our own bedrooms, which was very exciting for both of us.

26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
A mixed bag there, all of which were untrue. Televisions and telephones in bedrooms only became reality once I started living in shared accommodation, and I’d never even thought of the idea before then. The other two items are terribly American, but the British equivalents do not apply.

30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16.
31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
I flew to Spain with school when I was doing my GCSEs, so was probably less than 16 at the time. I remember my parents saving up for that trip, which was very beneficial and terribly daunting at the same time. I have never been on a cruise, but I had many trips to the big London museums with my parents as a child – the free ones, of course! I still love the Natural History Museum deeply.

34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.
I was aware that heating cost money, but not how much money.

Hmm, that’s just under half of the statements that I can say ‘yes’ to. I’m not entirely sure how to interpret that, but I do know that I am very privileged. Perhaps not compared to members of the Shadow Cabinet or our various Princes, but even by being born in the UK, I had so many advantages that many people elsewhere do not. And a middle-class upbringing, with a loving, stable family who encouraged my education, is something that should not be taken for granted anywhere in the world. I was exposed to learning and culture by my parents, even if not on a grand scale, and we had more than enough money to get by. If that isn’t privilege, I don’t know what is.

2008
04/24
CATEGORY
Ramblings
TAGS

7 comments

All things must end


The Singing Librarian\'s new phoneWriting is not something that’s coming easily at the moment.   The final two assignments for my librarianship qualification are not progressing at all.  Quite a number of blog posts have been started but abandoned or deleted due to thoughts fizzling out half way through a paragraph.  Perhaps it is creativity in general that is lacking, as I am struggling to prepare a 5-minute children’s talk for church.

And so it is that I am reduced to a quite miserable blog post, illustrating a quite dramatic change in my life.  Last weekend I replaced my mobile phone.  This is hardly a novel event in the world.  Some people seem to change their phones every few weeks, but this is news indeed in the world of the Singing Librarian. My previous phone had served me well for at least seven years, possibly ten.  I only discovered last summer how to send texts in lower case, and it had never been a constant companion the way that these devices tend to be.  Yet it had become a part of me, a part that felt right despite the teasing about it being a ‘house brick’ and the fact that it quite genuinely was bigger than the cordless hand sets of my land line. It didn’t matter to me that the battery life was shockingly low, even though the battery seemed to weight a ton. It didn’t matter to me that if I wanted to send a text, I had to write the number down first. I suppose I was resisting conformity, going against the flow by owning a mobile phone that wasn’t truly mobile, certainly not in the summer, when pockets big enough to hold such a monster become impractical. Eventually, though, I cracked, and caused great amusement to a phone shop employee when he saw what I wanted to replace.  Great disapppointment as well, when I made it clear that I still wanted a basic telephone, not a camera plus mp3 player plus internet on the go plus food processor that happens to be able to make telephone calls.  I like simplicity, and that is what I got.

Old and new phones, side by sideReaders can see from the photo just how dramatic a change this is. From a giant beast to a slimline creature that fits happily inside a shirt pocket. From a black behemoth to a happy silver sylph. And yes, my readers would be quite right to suppose that the behemoth has an extendable aerial. I’m afraid it really could make a difference to signal quality sometimes.

The new phone is very novel to me at the moment, but in time, I will no doubt become accustomed to it. Still, it is, for me, a big change. In some ways, it feels like the loss of a part of my personality, a decision to go with the flow and do what everyone else is doing. But mostly it feels sensible and indefinably exciting, as my telephony finally enters the twenty-first century along with the rest of me.

As for the old phone, my faithful servant for all these years, I shall keep hold of it.  If I should ever do a show set around the turn of the millennium, it could be a useful prop.  Until then, I expect I can find a use for it as a paper weight or something equally practical.  Perhaps a door stop…

2008
04/16
CATEGORY
Ramblings
TAGS
5 comments