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Saturday, 27 November 2010

Not sure who you are?

So, Edith de France drags me to the rehearsals again. This time cajon man doesn't show up. There is a loud shared silence amongst the singers. And they are off..........suddenly, I am in the middle of a semi circle of singers and guitarists in full song. My eardrums are buzzing and my ribcage vibrating like the skin of a drum. This is a totally new be on a stage in the middle of a performance. The connection and energy flowing between everybody is astonishing. It feels like a deep, reborn, tribal thing.
One of the male guitarists breaks into a gutteral song. His eyes shut and his fingers grasp invisible birds flying by. The ladies giggle softly but they cannot move their eyes.

The woman in charge of the choir announces...
"It's the real deal tomorrow, everybody. Ladies...the matching flowers to be placed exactly in the centre of your hair . Check your earrings"
She is wearing Dick Whittington leather thigh boots, as are all the ladies in the village now.

Edith de France is trying to cure me of agoraphobia or give me a heart attack. I'm not sure which. Magic night.

Panique Au Village - Le tresor d'indien

Tuesday, 23 November 2010

Due to technical difficulties

I have dropped myself into unexplored territory of Painter 11. There are so many bells and whistles I am giddy with possibilities.

I bumped into Mia the postlady who actually had the courage to play with the group last week.
"How did it go?" I say.

"Well, I got stuck on the one chord because I was nervous. Edith de France got lost. Maria de Andalucia was on the wrong page. Raul hit a string too hard...and when we stood up and bowed the audience didn't realise we had finished. Do you want to be in the Christmas show?"

I'll think about it.

Sunday, 21 November 2010


Procrastination from Johnny Kelly on Vimeo.

Tartan Hat

I don't know why the link to Captain MacKenzie didn't work the other day. Here goes...

The wind is howling, my hands are frozen but I have a big batch of Scoth Broth bubbling. I'm sick of soup, actually.