Day 101 – Well there’s nothing like a thunderstorm with torrential rain to test whether your gutters need clearing! I’ve always been wary of thunder and lightning, particularly the latter. My dear Mum brought me up to fear it with “don’t put your umbrella up – not with that spike on it” and “don’t go near the window with knives and forks” (maybe she thought that’s how ‘fork’ lightning got its name.) I would have been about eight or nine years old when, coming home from School, there were rumbles of thunder. As I waited to cross Cardigan Road, looking up towards ‘Harry Hudson’s’ Butchers lightning suddenly flashed across the sky above the ‘Co-op’.  I was terrified and raced to the safety of home.

In the early 1950s we were on  a family day out to Saltburn in our little ‘Austin 7’ car. The Reg. No. was UG 8333 – like the Co-op Divi – I’ve never forgotten the number. Parked on a slipway to the beach, there was a terrific thunderstorm, with Mum convinced we were doomed. The only damage was the torrential rain leaking through the roof, so holding picnic cups aloft to catch the rain and throwing it out of the windows, we were relatively dry for the journey home. I’m surprised we had so many caravan holidays in the 50s with the fear that we could be struck by lightning after hot days (holiday weather was always sunny and hot, particularly at Reighton Gap) and Mum reminding us that our holiday home “is only a tin box after all”.

Fast forward half a dozen years and Mum and I were on our own at home – Dad visiting Grandma – when a terrific storm broke! Mum opened the back and front doors and we sat on the Hall floor. If there was to be a lightning bolt, it could escape via the open doors. I think the reason for us sitting in the Hall was in the event the lightning came down the chimney, we’d be away from it. We had no telephone of course then – in fact we didn’t have one until thirty years later – otherwise we’d have been ringing my sister to check she was safe. I do remember she was out anyway with her Jazz pianist husband who had a Gig at ‘The Windmill’ Club on North Street;  the exterior being black and white with  coloured bulbs along the windmill sails.

Thunder – and snow – could always be accurately forecast by Mum in the suffering of “one of her heads” so with the current storms she would have known in advance whether there was “thunder about”. No matter that Paul Hudson, Darren Bett or Tomasz (he, badly in need of a haircut) say – “some of us may miss them” – Mum would have predicted the locality and time with her headache!

Stormy indeed Maureen, until next time…

Chapter I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost … I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.

Chapter II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter V

Dear all,

My partner Lynne and I have spent much of our semi-lockdown time doing crosswords, which daily end up in the bin. If we did tapestry or origami, we would at least have something to show to people, even if people didn’t want to be shown it.

Ah, people say, but at least you’re keeping your mind active, as if crosswords were the equivalent of visits to the gym, which they are not because if they were, we would be both be leaping around like Fatima Whitbread.

I’m not sure that crosswords are even very useful as mental exercise. Many very good minds have been destroyed by dementia and it seems rather cruel to suggest it’s partly the victims’ fault; that spending more time on crosswords or sudoku would have averted the tragedy.

But that’s not the real purpose of crosswords anyway. They are, like jigsaws or taking a nap, a way of putting the demands of the world to one side for a while – actually quite a long while in lockdown conditions.

Crossword puzzlers have nothing to worry about except a small grid and 26 letters. It’s a bit like a mindfulness exercise, but without the therapeutic pretentions, and, unlike many leisure activities – sport, TV cookery, beard-growing  or discussing your children, for example –  it’s thoroughly non-competitive.

During my decades working for the Yorkshire Post Newspapers, many of my colleagues spent much of their time between their paid duties trying to complete the Guardian cryptic crossword, which, in the nature of daily journalism, was easier on some days than others and had to be abandoned completely during the Twin Towers attack.

At the end of the working day, if we had the time, we might discuss our efforts to complete the crossword, although there were no prizes, just the mutual satisfaction we took in a good clue meeting a good solution – for example, a recent Guardian clue was ‘Very much affected, as are one’s neighbours (6,7)’, and the answer was, ‘Beside oneself’, which, unless you’re brighter than me, only becomes obvious when you know it.

Crossword-doers seldom join clubs but they are united by some unwritten rules. They know, for example, that the word ‘flowers’ can refer either to blooms, like roses, or to things that flow, like the River Euphrates (or the River Superheat, as it’s known to people who can’t resist anagrams).

And, outside the rather small world of ecclesiastical architecture, it’s mostly crossword fillers-in who know the word ‘raredos’, meaning a sort of ornamental altar screen. Crossword compilers use it a lot, although, despite spending most of my life trying to get inside their brains, I still have no idea why.

Wonderful Oliver, thank you once again, until next time…..

Good morning,

Dear all,

From Room to Zoom! i’ve joined the Chorus of ‘Opera North’ No you won’t see me on stage in their next production – this is ‘From Couch to Chorus’ an invitation via ‘Caring Together’s’ web post. Rehearsals involve one hour a week on Zoom with homework at one’s leisure ; yet another event to come out of Lockdown. Registering was easy, stating which ‘Voice’, in my case Alto, with help given to non-singers to determine their range. I anticipated a good turnout of Altos but was amazed – as were Opera North, that we numbered  470! ‘Chat’ messages came up on my lap top screen,  “Hi I’m from Roundhay” or “Headingley” – but one group of singers were in Australia! They continued with “Anyone from ‘Inspirations Choir?” and “Any Barbershoppers out there?” which were funny questions anyway as they couldn’t save seats and sit next to each other! Jenny, our Host gave an introductory talk about the project followed by a ‘warm-up’ I hadn’t taken into consideration that there would be a physical as well as vocal warm-up so had made the mistake of sitting next to the wall which didn’t help with arms stretching up “and arms down to your side” which meant I could only use one arm properly.  Today I may even stand up, though it isn’t compulsory yet, unlike many other things at the moment!

We sang through a few pages of ‘Va Pensiero’ and ‘Habanera’ from ‘Nabucco’ and ‘Carmen’ respectively, albeit we were muted so that each singer wouldn’t be distracted by 469 other Altos. Sheet music and recordings had been e-mailed to us prior to rehearsal. For those unable to print the music, it was also shown on screen; plus each voice has a choice of five recordings with which to rehearse for homework. I have been e-mailed the same for a chorus from ‘The Bartered Bride’ so I have been learning as much o’ ‘t’other two’ prior to today’s session. I’ve spent most of my adult life singing in Musicals and with Choirs – never a soloist, just happy to learn challenging harmonies and it’s made me realise just how much I miss it. At the end of the four weeks there will be a final session when all the Sopranos, Altos, Tenors and Basses will – I think – be recorded as one huge Choir! All this is in exchange for an (optional) ‘pay what you feel’ donation to ‘Opera North’s’ funds.

I find it all quite incredible how so many people are brought together by different events, at home, and by Zoom. Not having to turn out in all weathers for the bus to rehearse is equally appealing too!  By the time we reach the end of our Operatic venture, my hibernated voice should hopefully have stopped cracking and croaking and I will be hungry for more. I wonder if ‘Opera North’ will have time for another ‘Couch to Chorus’ before they – hopefully – are back on stage again. I might suggest we tackle Wagner’s ‘Ring Cycle’ next!

You can learn more about the workshops and how to join here.

All the best for today Maureen… until next time