Blog & Photo Journal Archive

Well, the world didn’t end, mirabile dictu… but it has been a rough few weeks.

Mum had another op, 7 more tumors removed by local anesthetic, and I thought for a few days afterwards that she was checking out – it really took it out of her (no ghastly pun intended) – that’s the last time, I reckon. But she has finally rallied somewhat – the doc gave her a course of steroids to see if she’ll eat a bit more and get enough strength to enjoy the holidays and Brendan (youngest grandson)’s visit from CA in early January – after that, who knows? Meanwhile she is pretty high maintenance, god bless her… soon time for help, I reckon… But enough of the doom and gloom… the weather is doing plenty of that, thank you very much…

It is absolutely MISERABLE out there – dark grey, cold and unbelievably wet – thank heavens we live high up above the river, it’s in full spate, has been for several days, and there’s flooding in all directions… We did have a fabulous cold snap earlier in the month, with plenty of snow and ice and some blue skies, and consequently some good hiking, and hopefully the sun will come out again, if not tomorrow, then sometime soon – meanwhile the full length, caped and lined mac that I picked up secondhand has come into its own (it even has straps to go around your legs so it doesn’t blow open in the wind!) The short dark days put both me and my sis on a short fuse, which is not so good, but we are still walking together, in between spats, it is the only road to sanity… I caught a cold just before mum’s op (that 3-gig weekend did me in, I think, plus hiking in the snow), and tho’ I’ve got it under control, I’ve had a wretched cough ever since that I can’t shake, so have not been singing with the choir, tho’ I did go carol singing around the village here, stupidly but bravely – community spirit is important – but oh for a week in the sun with no obligations…. the good news is that my aunt was getting new carpets in her house, so I got her old stuff and have lined the studio floor from one end to the other – I miss the beautiful old floorboards, but tho’ not exactly salubrious, it sure is warmer! And the tree is up in the house, and decorated, and we light lots of candles morning and evening to chase away the dark and gloom…

At least we have passed the shortest day – even if you can’t tell because of the dark clouds and pouring rain, there will be more light every day, and we are heading back towards summer – hooray… a WONDERFUL SOLSTICE to one and all, and here’s to the return of the light. And a very merry to one and all, also. See you next year?

Sitting by the fire, waiting for a late night skype call from doug… sam is draped across the back of the armchair in which I am sitting in front of the fire – not a bad life….he is turning into an outdoor kitty, spending hours a day outside – the mighty hunter… he’s managed to figure out how to get into my studio by himself (the door latch is funky) so if if gets too cold out in the snow… smart cat…

I had a 3-gig weekend – 2 different choirs and a short solo set… go figure… on Friday I sang carols on the grand staircase at the Bowes Museum (the french chateau in the heart of teesdale); on Sunday I sang at Reeth Methodist Chapel – gorgeous little building, a real gem, singing Britten’s Ceremony of Carols and much else… really good harpist…. and Saturday night I did a short solo set to end the first half of the Mickleton piano teacher’s pupil’s recital in the Village Hall – couldn’t help thinking of MTO playing in Milan at the same time, made me smile…

I took mum to david crane’s english class this morning – the first lecture on macbeth – good one… we’ll miss the second part next week as thursday is when she gets her next slice – 4 more tumors to be removed at durham hospital…. we were hoping to wait until after brendan’s visit in january, but Rubin the surgeon said better do it now, while they are still small and relatively simple to remove, so be it… he and Ann Irwin the nurse specialist have been wonderful, I am so grateful… mum is really very frail now… still game, still valiant (a 4 hour bridge tournament the other day, held here in aid of a cancer charity, that started at 10 a.m. – which translated into me getting up at 7am to get her started in time) but it is all a supreme effort for her – I think that was the last bridge day…. Just getting up and downstairs for breakfast is a major ordeal now, her breathing is terrible…. and the marbles are going, albeit very slowly.. she cannot prepare food for herself, and can barely eat it if I do – the trouble is that she has figured out she no longer has much sense of taste or smell left – just sense memory…. she is just a skeleton covered in skin… she still gets her own alcoholic beverages, but for how long? even those are getting fewer and weaker, a sure sign of the times….

yesterday was a respite in the ghastly weather and I took a long hike up Lunedale, along the north side of Selset reservoir, a first for me – so beautiful, so remote… up to wemmergil and stackholme, back along the deserted road, past a burnt-out church in the last of the light – beautiful sunset, which should have boded a lovely day following, but instead we got lots of snow and sleet and wind… we’re set to have snow every day for the next week – winter is upon us…. another great hike the week before, up in the high country toward Alston – cross fell in deep snow, the moor thick with frost…

A quick trip down to London last weekend, to shake things up a bit, having put carers in place and told sam not to be too vocal about my absence (as though he would listen…). To wit: Art (kentridge and klein at tate modern) and Theatre (michael gambon and eileen atkins in beckett); sunday morning jaunt to Columbia Road flower market (to purchase an orchid for mum – saw my favourite buskers to boot, and scored a fabulous winter coat for pennies); sunday lunch (and much else) with jan (partridge and too much wine); sunday afternoon tea with david and valda, who were en route home to nyc after 2 week’s teaching in edinburgh (and with whom I also saw the beckett); and a wonderful boat ride down the river to Greenwich, to take the cable car that runs over the river from the O2 arena – gotta love heights… really fun… highly satisfactory all ’round. the only thing missing was music…

Talking of which, I wish to put an APB out for all possible UK musical contacts – everyone must know someone, right? It’s time to start putting out feelers here, both generally – for my creative health – and more specifically for Vagabond, my current labor of love. I would like to record a bit of it, and therefore…

4 voices wanted: young soprano or mezzo for the title role (sounding 17ish, passing as a boy) – early music type voice (i.e. little or no vibrato) but with some steel in there – plus alto (for the mother – richer voice), tenor (for the brother and husband) and baritone (for the father and other roles).

Variety of instrumentalists wanted: string quartet (young, hungry, good); bass (upright); clarinet/bass clarinet; guitar (acoustic and electric) – all with good reading chops but ideally also able to improvise) – plus 2 arabic musicians covering percussion (rik, dumbek, frame drum), oud, and possible ney/shenai/violin.
Simple, right?

And tomorrow is thanksgiving… how I will miss the Nyack gathering… who will make the gravy? I am invited out to lunch, as it happens, so will make that my thanksgiving meal and raise a glass to all so far away and say thank you for hands and hearts across the sea… I MISS YOU ALL. But I’ll be back…

dark november days
more leaves on the ground than on the branches
larches like golden ghosts in the ever darkening landscape
silhouetted against a sky heavy with impending rain

I was wrong in my earlier belief that this part of the world being is more about yellow than red – or at least copper and gold – the fall colours continued to be ever more splendiferous, and for an extraordinarily long time – it’s been an epic autumn, I think partly because with all the summer rain the leaves had a really good grip! but we are now headed into the skeletal season, with brown black and grey the predominant colours… only a month to the winter solstice…

Last night was first rehearsal for the St. Matthew Passion, which the Barnard Castle Choral society are going to sing in Durham Cathedral on March 16th – now that’s worth showing up to practice for…

The late-breaking bad news is that doug’s storage in the east village was flooded, and all our master tapes (kamikaze, wau-wa) got soaked, as well as much of doug’s archives, and all my road cases – I’d forgotten I’d put a lot of stuff there in the big clear-out. doug rescued what he could and is slowly drying out the tapes – friends have taken the road cases and keyboards and have packed them with 50 lbs of rice to try and dry them out – new yorkers, true grit…

4 More Years – hallelujah! Woke up at 6a.m. to listen to the acceptance speech… Mum has been very under the weather for the past week or so, a bad cold that has really taken its toll (her breathing is terrible, and she still has a racking cough), but the election result has bucked her up no end – mind you, she always said he would win, she called it… I can’t help thinking there must have been a moment late last night, when he realised that he was actually going to win, that Obama had a heart sink moment – I mean who in their right mind would want his job? Especially now… the knives will be out… but thank the gods he does want to do it….

Remember, remember, the 5th of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot…

What a week… watching the images come in of hurricane Sandy’s devastation, not being able to reach anyone in downtown NY for 5 days, being powerless to help (thank goodness I brought sam back with me, she says selfishly) – welcome to the future – not a pretty picture… meanwhile, we had a great bonfire night down in Barney on Friday – really fabulous fireworks and the burning of the houses of parliament – all very satisfactory… now we just have to suffer through tomorrow – being 5 hours ahead means we won’t know the results until wednesday – I’m not sure I can stand the suspense… SURELY America is not as stupid as I fear… the apocalypse of Sandy is nothing to what a Romney administration would be….

Woke up to a totally white world this morning – an inch of snow on everything, with the odd rose sticking out like a drop of blood… and the clocks not even back yet (they go back tomorrow). There is still enough heat left in the sun for it not to have lasted long – mostly gone by midday – but it was very beautiful while it lasted, and even with the sun it only got a few degrees above freezing – this kind of weather I like, even if it is a bit early… Only yesterday I was thinking that autumn was well and truly here, with the leaves falling like copper rain… this part of the world actually goes in more for gold than red, the sycamores in particular giving the impression of the last of the summer sunshine. But then there are the amazing copper beeches – the beeches in general are simply stunning. Talking of trees, the news of the projected demise of all of this country’s ash trees is a real tragedy… it’s hard to imagine the countryside without them, they are one of the iconic sights of this part of the world… first the elm, now the ash… and they say the chestnuts are suffering “bleeding” conkers, and the oaks something we don’t yet understand… we are indeed in the end game of the old world….

Sam and I moved into Saltoun (the Big House) yesterday, as they were forecasting real cold, and the heating bills out in my studio will skyrocket if I have to heat it 24/7… sam is not sure about the move, the house smells mightily of old dog – but Tom never goes upstairs any more, so that is now sam’s territory. I lit a fire in the drawing room this evening to tempt him, but it wasn’t until 11pm, when everyone else had gone to bed, that he ventured down… yavash, yavash, as the persians say… good timing on the move, tho’, as the kitchen taps decided to explode last night, lucky I was here… always something…

I have written my first song from this part of the world – a rather lengthy bardic ballad, no doubt partly inspired by seeing Robin Williamson perform in Barney back in September – altho’ I actually started writing it up in Hamilton, NY, after a gorgeous walk through the autumn woods on the Colgate campus. There are also two instrumentals from my trip up to the Highlands in August, a slow air and a reel… has to come out somehow…

Today Sam had his first experience of the Great Outdoors… out the back door of the studio that leads into the garden – weeds! flowers! stone walls! wet earth! SMELLS! he made it as far as the archway door, but I couldn’t tempt him onto the lawn… It’s wild, watching curiosity and fear vying for supremacy…

And then, gilding the lily, I took him over to the Big House for the first time…. I don’t think he’ll ever be as comfortable there as he is in the studio – too overheated, and too full of dog smells and other people… but he didn’t freak out completely, and I cannot stay on in the studio indefinitely – diana is leaving any day now (none too soon, we are at each other’s throats) and I cannot leave mum alone in the house… I don’t want to leave sam alone either, so he’ll have to come with me… perhaps he can commute…

I need to mix the TWIR recordings, I need to keep working on Vagabond, I need to start work on Orfeo… I need to keep a focus on my work, along with everything else…

It’s 10.30 pm and Sam and I are ensconced in my studio with the gas fire turned up to the max, while the temperature outside plummets below zero. I made the hour+15 drive across the moors between Newcastle and upper Teesdale three times today, but it was a glorious day for it, I got a nap in between, and all is well. After leaving Sam at the cargo terminal in JFK yesterday afternoon looking extremely unhappy (he behaved like a total WILD animal for the first hour he was in his carrier), I got him back here finally this evening, in time for all us other Leishmans (mum, sis, aunt, cousin and myself) to repair to the Fox Hounds for Tuesday night fish supper, while Sam roamed the studio checking out all the corners – he seems remarkably well adjusted, I think British Airways did him proud – and the fish leftovers went down very well….

Mum is a lot frailer, having difficulty breathing, but still game, and says sis has looked after her brilliantly. D. herself seems good, and will stick around until after mum’s b’day on the 15th…

and so we head into the next chapter…

October… how did that happen? The Stein is done for now – it’s a great project and I look forward to the next step – Karin is a joy to work with.

And so my week back in my old life draws to a close. It’s been a bit odd, living in my apartment, me and Sam, as tho’ this was my life again – I guess it is my life, for this week anyway – except for the bare walls and the fact that every time I reached for something I had to remember “oh, it’s packed away”… I didn’t take advantage of the city and go out every evening to a concert or play – I hung out at home with Sam, relishing time to myself, at home, and got ready for the Recording Session That Never Was. The main purpose of this week, apart from seeing friends and getting it together to ship Sam back with me, was to get a demo recording of part of “vagabond”, to which end I spent many and many an hour in scheduling hell and chart making (I even had to cancel the picking up of my archives, another of the reasons for being here, as I didn’t have time to sort through them). But the best laid plans… Kilgore, the studio owner/engineer, had the flu and as I couldn’t risk taking the bug back to mum, we finally had to cancel – it was actually K (a good friend and huge supporter of mine, without whom Baseless Rumors would never have been made) who was responsible enough to finally pull the plug… devastating as it was, I know there was good reason: plus what I was actually attempting to do in a few short hours in the studio was crazy even by my standards… I’m such a Kamikaze… The knock-on effect was that I got a day off on the finest day of the week and took a great bike ride along the river, which was much needed, and the next day (only yesterday) Zafer, the oud player/violinist/percussionist who worked with me on 21 Positions, came over to my house with another friend (Rami, player of rik, frame drum and dumbek) and they spent 2 and 1/2 hours laying down all sorts of grooves for me – Zafer is also a wonderful percussionist & the 2 of them together were a joy… so I have lots to work with as I move forward… doug also laid down some guitar, always a source of inspiration… I was really sorry not to get the 3 singers into the studio, but I’ll just have to find others, and do the recording, in London – a good reason to start building the contacts over there…

That evening was Beka’s great feast for me in Brooklyn – twelve great folk around a big table, the best possible way to spend an evening – another wonderful gathering of friends, with fabulous food – the earlier one was the impromptu dinner in Nyack on my way down from Colgate, where I managed to get all 6 of my nyack buddies around the table at Rinde and Ellen’s – what a gift… I am blessed with amazing friends who are also great cooks! Beka had just taken delivery of an old Smith & Corona typewriter that she had had refurbished; it was set up next to the dinner table – what a thing of beauty – so that everyone could type something during the course of the evening, and I had a group love letter to take home with me – thank you one and all! I feel wrapped in a blanket of warmth and affection…

And then as a final gift, this afternoon I had a music making session at my house, just 4 of us in this beautiful room (which has the best acoustics of any room in nyc, to my ear). Doug on clarinet and guitar, Matt on guitar, Marika on cello, and me on bari uke and vox – so sweet, so fun… I really needed that…

I have given all the paperwork for the new subletter contract to Maria at Gatsby – now we just cross our fingers. Penny Lynn seems a perfect fit. We live in hope that this time… Sam now has a collar with name tag and bell, he doesn’t seem to mind… I’ve been tempting him into his carrier with treats, but he’s not too keen. Tomorrow is going to be a Great Big Adventure, but it will be over at some point and we will both be in cotherstone… god speed…

Past the equinox and sliding down the slippery slope towards winter… but today was a picture perfect fall day in upstate new york: bright blue sky with the occasional multi-dimensional cloud floating through making nice shadows; the foliage starting to turn so there’s red and green and gold against the blue; and Hamilton is full of beautiful big clapboard houses with wrap-around porches and widows’ walks. There’s so much space… & the campus of Colgate U is full of magnificent trees… it’s a 20 minute walk from where I’m staying to rehearsal, through picture-perfect Americana… But best of all, today was the day of Piano Fixing. The T.D. at the theater gave me two and 1/2 hours of his time, and the shop, and fixed the big toy piano – its structural integrity is once more intact – hallelujah! There was a reason I had Karin schlepp it up here from Rinde’s basement studio. Plus my wonderful Russian piano tuner from Brooklyn called this morning while I was in the shop with Joel – I hooked him up with my wonderful cat-sitter, and Boris went over to W.10 St. this afternoon and tuned my full-size piano – hallelujah again! It’s held its tuning remarkably well (we love Yamaha) but it’s been a year… gotta take care of the things we love…

Work proceeds on The World Is Round. I’ve written 4 more songs in as many days , and am making stabs at the final section… the kids are fun to work with – not professionals, of course, but very game (and some of them with better voices than the real cast, I hate to admit!). It’s good for Karin to have this time away from nyc to work on it, think on it – she’s come up with an overall structure, the narrative arc, which is a big step… and it’s great for us to hang out and brainstorm. Quelle chance… Mum seems to have survived the latest slice-and-dice pretty well, and sis seems to be surviving being there, for the moment… toca madera… 2 more weeks…

After wearing my dad’s old hiking stuff all year, I finally bought my own a while back: a padded sleeveless jerkin (dark green, of course), also good for working in my cold studio; a gortex parka (not dark green but bright blue so they don’t mistake me for a grouse or pheasant when I walk across the moors): and gortex trainers (my serious hiking boots have been here for a while – my dad’s were too big…); and of course a waxed cloth hat (dark green). I’m turning into a country bumpkin, it’s pretty much all I ever wear anymore… I must remember not to pack them to nyc… altho’ I gather it’s frightfully fashionable… my other major expenditures have been train and plane tickets, and petrol… saw Robin Williamson play for 40 people in the Barnard Castle church hall, such a wonderful bard… saw part of Fairport Convention’s 45th anniversary concert on the Beeb and have a new instrument lusting – does anyone have a mandola I can buy?… nervous about leaving mum, but needs must… safe travels, and bless this house, keep them safe until my return…

Heading across the pond in a few days, to do a short residency at Colgate U, upstate NY, where Karin Coonrod and I will do more exploration on Gertrude Stein (I’ve been writing for it since I got back from the island), after which I hope to have a week in NYC to see a few friends, try and do some recording of the new opera, and pick up my cat! Meanwhile we have a full house in Cotherstone: my sis is back from menorca, having closed up for the winter, and will hopefully stay here with mum while I’m in NY (I’ve also put carers in place); and best of all, my good friend and longtime collaborator Joan Schirle is here for a few days en route to visit friends in the south of france (that’s a friendly detour for you…). It’s always great to have friends from over the pond come and see me here in my new temporary life… helps me feel slightly less of a split personality… and with outside eyes around, I see how fortunate I am… took her on some good walks, and introduced her to the silver swan at the Bowes Museum – the inspiration for Peter Carey’s latest novel, The Chemistry of Tears…

I see that too much information is all too easy to do, so I’ll to try and keep it short(er)… but so much water under the bridge…

After a couple of hard weeks of re-entry as solo carer (tho’ with some good hill walking and the occasional dip in a beck when the sun came out), along came a whole lot of sweet relief, to wit: 4 days up in the highlands of Scotland, visiting friends, which included a night on Loch Tummel where no-one in the world knew where I was; some loch swimming (Loch Vaa and Loch Ba!); the annual Lairds v. Beaters shinty match at Cannich (a game only played north of Loch Ness, sort of like hockey but with no rules); a glorious 20 mile hike, mostly in the rain (from Glen Affric, in the heart of one of the last virgin forests of Scotland, west through the mountains to Loch Duich on the Atlantic); and an evening of splendid dancing of reels at a local village hall to the tune of fiddle and accordion – heaven….

And then two cultural bull’s eyes: the first at Glyndebourne, the original country house opera (tho’ now much grander than when I last went in the ’70s), courtesy of my librettist and best mate in London. A Ravel double bill – L’heure espagnole, which was delicious musically, fun but lightweight (all about fucking), and then after the long picnic break, L’Enfant Et Le Sortilège, which literally took my breath away – stunning in every way. Ravishing music, great singing, but the production – the playing with scale, the wit, the imagination, the magic – when it ended you just wanted them to start at the beginning and do it all over again. Truly amazing… And then a few days later, the final performance of Théâtre du Soleil at the Edinburgh Festival – Les Naufragés Du Fol Espoir (Aurores). Ariane Mnouchkine is a magician, and still going strong almost 30 years since I first saw them at the Olympic Arts Festival in LA when we were doing Comedy of Errors, and they were then already at their peak. The company has evolved, obviously (you need some young for such physical theater, along with the experience of the elders) but she’s still at the helm, along with her writer and composer – I had a brief chat with her afterwards, she was hanging out by the dressing rooms which were in full view of the public, albeit behind lace curtains – she reminded me they were also doing Shakespeare back then – it was Richard II I saw… Nuafragés was 4 hours of total magic that just flew by – I was tired going in, having driven nearly 4 hours to get there (and taken an hour-long hike along the way) but I came out feeling totally refreshed and wide awake – a similar experience to seeing Peter Brook’s Mahabharata at BAM after flying in the same day… both L’Enfant and Naufragés were imbued with a sense of the limitless nature of the imagination, but in different ways – both all about illusion, the one making your senses reel from playing with scale and the perfection of the illusion, the other hiding nothing, showing you all the strings, literally, but thereby drawing you into the world in all its messiness and excitement in a more human way… both totally inspiring… thank you…

On a more mundane note, sis is still in menorca (lucky so-and-so) and there is still no word from the hospital on the date for mum’s next slice-and-dice – she’s waiting patiently, ever valiant, but ever frailer and slightly more gone… I can’t believe it’s been a year since I first came over to deal…

btw, I forgot to mention that an amazing ship docked in Mahon harbour back in July – an exact replica of the Na Victoria, which made the first circumnavigation of the globe in 1519-1522, the only one of Magellan’s ships to survive the journey that proved the earth wasn’t flat. This replica, built in Spain, did the exact same journey a few years ago, and is now cruising the Mediterranean… the perfect pirate ship…
enough…

My, how the weeks fly by… it’s August, and I’m back in the land of green and gray and rain (and the Olympics – go Team GB!), the blue and white of Menorca but a memory. But it was a great month. Sure, we had our ups and downs – particularly the siblings – but families are complicated by nature, and we’ve got a lot of nature… The house is now in great shape, as is the garden, thanks to much hard work. Sebastian and his kids (particularly Xavi) planted a great huerto this year and our produce was really good – best tomatoes ever, so sweet – I hope he does a winter crop of potatoes and onions this year like Mateo used to do, they were the best… growing food is a Good Thing…

Many great gatherings, both at our house and at friends’, and many of the traditional forays – two of which involved mum riding shotgun in the 1960s Triumph Herald convertible – toujours gai, there seems to be a dance in the old dame yet… she was even offered a boat ride out to Isla de Colon, but she chickened out on the day – wisely, I have to say… don’t push your luck. She’s been doing really well, tho’ the number of folk wanting to wine and dine her, or hang out on the patio or under the olives with her and listen to her stories seemed limitless, which was quite tiring for her – but wonderful. She thrives in the company of friends.

The weather stayed pretty much ideal the entire month, tho’ quite a lot of wind, which mum wasn’t keen on – luckily there’s always a nice quiet corner somewhere around the finca, no matter which way it’s blowing. And the sea was perfection itself – a vintage, entirely medusa-free month, which made for idyllic, care-free swimming in the big blue. Heaven. That’s what I store as a sense memory to get me through the winter. Not enough hammock time, what with one thing and another, and not enough writing (music) time, but this month was all about family (which isn’t, these days?). The last week sis finally gave me the space to sleep alone on the balcony, which I really needed – the price was almost too high, but I am not good company if I don’t get enough time to myself. I finally took an afternoon and evening off, a couple of days before leaving, and went up to the north coast to swim and watch the sunset at Cavalleria beach and on up to the faro for the full moon, stopping in Es Mercadal on the way home for a late dinner on a back street by the canal – a mini holiday… and my last night I couldn’t resist a couple of midnight dips in the sea by full moonlight, after going into Sant Lluis for the celebration of the 250th anniversary of the molino (a guided tour at 11pm!), and that after we’d been out to dinner, having spent the day getting the house ready for the friends who were due to arrive the day after we left – that was a long day, and a short night, but as I was sleeping on the balcony under the full moon I wasn’t going to be getting much sleep anyway, so wotthell archie… [Arriving back in Cotherstone the next night, to a stone cold house at 1.30 in the morning, was not fun, but mum was a trooper – we just layered up with shawls, drank a large single malt and staggered to bed.]

The guy who used to run the music shop in Mahon (he got fired at the beginning of July, after working there for 17 years, sign of the times) started a Tuesday night “music in the streets” series during the summer, which sis and I went to most weeks. It’s a really great thing – all local musicians (if not actually menorcan, then living on the island) and really good – jazz, flamenco, classical, menorcan folk, african, you name it – outside cafes, in the squares… good to see something positive being created – the shops stayed open late and the whole community got behind it, with kids and grandmas hanging out, everyone listening to music, strolling around eating ice-cream – way cool. Tato asked if diana and I would do one, but in the end there wasn’t time before I left – next year? we didn’t play much this time ‘round…

The family dynamic continues to be problematic, but whose isn’t? I think we do pretty well, considering – and that’s the vital word, consideration… and tolerance… I’ve put down a deep taproot out there over the years, created a life for myself, but change is coming down the pike and I must open myself to it, embrace it, or it will do me in – what doesn’t kill you makes you strong…

Still no resolution to my sublet crisis in New York, but we bumble along… and it turns out the Gertrude Stein workshop that I’m going back for in September (hopefully) is not in town as I thought but way upstate near Canada… never mind, at least it is happening… I have much to be thankful for.

So far so good, although always precarious… As I write, the tramuntana is blowing in the pines (that’s the crazy north wind that usually blows in the winter and drives everyone on the island crazy; all the old farmhouses – including ours – had a central room with no outside walls and no windows where they would live in the winter to hide from it), but I have to say that aside from forcing me off the terrace to sleep indoors, and making the garden very thirsty, it’s not such a bad thing – my sis and I accomplished a whole lot today around the house because it was actually cool enough to work. It even rained for about 10 minutes – just enough to wash all the leaves and surfaces, and by late afternoon the sky was pristine again (tho’ the wind still blows), in time for my daily second commune with the sea (the first is in the early morning, usually at the big blue bathtub). An old Menorcan friend came for an early evening visit, with her 8-yr old daughter. They spent a winter in the house about 3 or 4 years ago – instructive for all for us – and Frida (the daughter) has an unbreakable bond with the place, and with Ratonera, our part-time cat (she – the cat – shows up unerringly within minutes of my every arrival on the island, and stays until we leave, but obviously has at least one other home because she is always healthy and well-fed when she shows up… cats…)

I had a week here by myself at the end of June, to open the house again, air out the bed linen, scare away the mice etc. before mum and sis arrived. It was stinkingly hot – 38 degrees with the wind in the southwest, which means humid and carrying the red dust from the Sahara – hard to get much done, but I did my best – both mum and sis had repeatedly said “don’t stress – take some time off” so I did…. And since they arrived, it’s been pretty much perfect – about 30 degrees, wind mostly in the northeast, which is cool and dry, and leaves the big blue bathtub like it should be… I’m a happy camper. (sorry, england…)

Mum is doing pretty well. She is so happy to be here – so what if she repeats herself occasionally and needs help with relatively simple things? she’s a marvel… so many people here so happy to see her… Sis had the usual tough re-entry, but after 2 weeks we seem to finally be on a relatively even keel – long may it last…

And then just when I thought I was in for a bit of smooth sailing, I find that my subletter in New York has to leave and I’m back in the “who will take care of the cat, who will pay the rent?” mode… oh dear, life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans – but I’ve been reading the Tibetan Book of the Dead, and it reminds me to live in the present as much as possible… what would you do if today were your last?

Much water under the bridge, both literally and figuratively (most of the country had a month’s worth of rain in the past 24 hours). Cousin Emily is here from California to visit with mum, which is great. We had been to see the surgeon at Durham hospital on Monday, and he opened up his chock-a-block schedule to squeeze her in on Wednesday, when he took out another 8 tumors – go, mum… [there was a slight blip when we discovered the hospital had her down for a general anesthetic which is way beyond her at this point, but after half a day on the phone I finally tracked down the surgeon and sorted it out, back to the local we had agreed upon – oops… ghastly, but I gave her my iPod and she listened to the Buena Vista Social Club and Schubert’s Quintet in C, while chatting up the surgeon – apparently he’s a vegetarian, and learning classical guitar. she is truly remarkable…] So in theory she’s good to go to menorca on July 2nd, kenahorah… and in theory I leave on monday to go open the house, with Diana coming down on Wednesday to do a hand-off with Emily – wish us all luck…

Meanwhile, last weekend was the Cotherstone village fete, or “fun weekend” as it’s now known. The weather is almost invariably lousy, and this year was no exception: after a couple of lovely days earlier in the week, the heavens opened on friday afternoon, right on cue, and it poured steadily almost all weekend – the 1K run in the fields behind the pub was done in a total downpour, quoits and country dancing were cancelled… Saturday didn’t fare much better, altho’ at least the stalls, cream teas and raffle were in the Village Hall and therefore impervious to the weather (I picked up a portable cassette player for £2.50, to replace the one I’ve been borrowing from Mick all these months, and a beaded lampshade for £1.50 that Diana will make good use of – and Auntie Liz won a splendid Diamond Jubilee tin of biscuits in the raffle). Saturday evening was the Kids Bands, also in the Village Hall, but on Mick’s advice I opted to take mum to the Bowes Museum for a classical guitar concert – well worth the effort, Giulio Tampalini was great (altho’ the string quartet who played with him in the second half had intonation problems that made it somewhat less enjoyable) – Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s Capriccios based on Goya paintings were very cool…

Sunday was the all-denominational thanksgiving church service, which I would have happily gone to in the spirit of co-operation, except that it was at 10.30 and the Duck Race was at 11 – I mean to say…. bad planning…. , apparently it’s normally held from the Tees Bridge to the island, but there was so much water in the river that it was moved to the beck on the first green, which turned out to be absolutely perfect, as the kids could run along side the ducks and really be up close and personal… when they told me they threw the ducks off the bridge and then folks netted them down by the island, I was a little puzzled as to what would stop them just flying away, but when I saw them on the green I realized – aha, little rubber duckies… all 250 of them! (I bought 4, one for each of the family). They raced in heats of 40 or 50 at a time, with the first 5 from each heat going on into the final. It was absolutely splendid, and tho’ it threatened, it didn’t actually rain (not that the ducks would have cared).

I raced home to cook an early Sunday lunch for Mum and Liz, and then headed to the kids’ park up past the church to hear the Middleton Silver Band – oh yes… playing under a marquee while kids played on the swings, and everyone scarfed hamburgers and sausages from the barbecue… a multi-generational hang – really cool… the band sounded great, 15/20-odd brass players, mostly pretty young, a couple of older ringers – the last tune they played must have been the inspiration for the Monty Python theme song (I found out it was “Death & Glory” by R.B. Hall). Best of all, the sun came out – in fits and starts at first, graduating to a beautiful stretch of blue sky… oh sun, how I’ve missed you! As the band wrapped up and the games (races etc.) began, I took off to stretch my legs in the afternoon sunshine. I ended up following the old railway lines almost to Barney, coming back up the Teesdale Way – lovely… everything thick and green and flower-decked – an actual June afternoon…

Another great walk the evening before the solstice – I took a post-prandial stroll after supper that ended up being a 2-hour hike across the moors to the sound of curlews and lapwings – stunning. Home at 10 o’clock, with plenty of light left in the sky, feeling quite all right thank you…

Back in Cotherstone with mum, who has survived my almost two-week absence pretty well – what a trooper… (she did have a carer coming in every morning, plus friends and neighbours…) I took her to the hospital for a check-up the morning after I got back (Durham University Hospital, great folks, particularly the nurse specialist, Anne Irwin, who is wonderful). Not great news, in fact rather dire, but hey, what was I expecting? We are still planning for a July sojourn in Menorca, somehow – she says it’s what she really wants – fingers crossed, send all good wishes our way… If it weren’t for the arrival later this month of cousin Emily, who’s coming from California especially to see her, I’d take her out there right now – apart from wanting to seize the carp, the weather here is filthy – constant pouring rain, set to continue for the foreseeable future – but hey, how else is England such a green and pleasant land? In desperation I took a walk this afternoon in wellies, rain gear AND an umbrella – all the impermeables in the house are ancient and not so impermeable… Mum’s garden is luscious, if somewhat bedraggled, and the trees, hedgerows and fields are thick, thick, thick – shoulder high queen anne’s lace, carpets of buttercups, knee high lush green grass (where it hasn’t been cropped by the obliging and ever hungry sheep). If only it weren’t cold as well… the heating is still on – actually it won’t go off, the thermostat seems to be broken – put it on the list… welcome home…

While temporarily packing away my life in NY, I managed to miss all the Queen’s Jubilee celebrations here, but did manage some of my own over there: a splendid picnic in Central Park with the 2 Claudias; a gig at the Stone (Doug & Kenny) and another at Barbes (Karen Mantler, love her songs, and her mom, my hero, who was there); several meals with friends, a walk on the High Line with Evan L, and another, solo, down the red carpet at the Drama Desk Awards at Town Hall (pipped at the post by another Brit – the score for One Man, Two Guv’nors, from the National, so I don’t feel too bad). And NYU has agreed in principle to take my archives, so no matter what happens, the work at least won’t disappear. That feels good… onward…

Back in New York for a minute – a week actually, maybe 10/12 days, depending on how things are back in Cotherstone… sorting out my lovely apartment to sublet it for 6 months/a year while I’m busy elsewhere… it’s been high summer, hot and humid, I’ve had to have the noisy old air con running while we create chaos and hopefully remedy it – “we” being myself and my selfless best friend Claudia – this is a situation where you learn your true friends… they include several of the Kamikazes and other assorted cohorts, who are housing various chunks of my possessions in order to make room – bless you one and all. Sam the cat is none too happy – they do like order, cats, and they don’t like change… neither do I, but it’s necessary, and so make the best of it.

In attempting so to do, I took time out on Monday night to go to the weekly MTO session at the Stone – oh joy – so good to stand under the waterfall of that music, and to see so many friends – a bit of a heartbreak as well, reminding me of what I’m missing, but you can’t dance at every wedding, as they say… or funeral… oops, bad taste… the apartment sorting has been a bit of a heartbreak as well, taking apart my world, but cathartic as well, in some awful way… I feel I will be better prepared for what’s coming down the pike – whatever it is… and lightening the load is always good…

Back in the frozen north – it’s the middle of May and temperatures are still in the single digits – good lord… but hey, my hike this afternoon took me to Faggergill along Arkle Beck in Arkengarthdale – how bad can it be?

Well, you never know, do you? If you just let go and trust, sometimes it works out… By sheer good luck, I was still there when Christian (whom I’d visited in Marseille in March) showed up in a lovely little 9 meter sailing boat, the Tikouk, along with its owner/captain Madji, having sailed up from Béjaia in Algeria, and with them I realised the dream of a lifetime and sailed around the island. There wasn’t really time before my scheduled departure, but mum said if I came back without having done it she’d never forgive me… god bless her… so for 3 long days and 4 lovely nights I did a total disconnect from the rest of the world and had the time of my life. Hardly a summer’s idyll – barely even spring, it was COLD – we had every conceivable wind and sea: (in no particular order) no wind, too much wind, perfect wind, hot sun, cold, blue sky and clouds, grey overcast, thunder and lightning, lashings of rain, huge seas, and a final night sail by full moon… oh, and dolphins!

The three of us made “une très bonne équipe” – Madji the dashing captain, Christian the first rate first mate and me, willing crew and honoured guest – even in the worst of the storm off the north coast, I had total confidence in both them and Tikouk – she’s a lovely seaworthy vessel, with no frills but extremely well appointed. Aside from the great sailing, I slept the sleep of the just every night in my little berth & we wined and dined really well – they had caught a large fish en route, a sargo or white seabream (which christian had immediately cleaned and filleted and stowed in the very efficient little fridge on board) and it fed us the entire journey, along with algerian potatoes, tomatoes, peppers, calabasin, etc. Even with the boat careening along at 5 or 6 knots at a 45 degree angle in big swells, christian cooked and served dinner – and did the dishes – what a mariner… the one disappointment was not being able to anchor the last night in one of the idyllic south coast coves, as the southerly wind and big sea made it impossible (not to mention that we didn’t have a detailed nautical chart of the island!), but the compensation was a fabulous night sail, ending with hours of gliding by the light of the full moon with only the genoa, to take us back to port in Maó. I thank my lucky stars (and Christian and Madji) for such a chance.

Trying to seize the carp while all hell breaks loose… it feels seismic, nothing is firm underfoot, sometimes I feel crushed by the weight of the world, my world, my burdens, but I know it’s all so ephemeral – here today, gone tomorrow… trying to figure out a longer-term sublet of my apartment when lo and behold, after 17 years on the waiting list, I’m offered a studio in westbeth. but I’m here, it’s there, and someone ahead of me on the list takes it before I can figure it out long-distance – so it goes… back to the sublet conundrum…

meanwhile, a brief sojourn on my island retreat, to open up after the winter and take a week’s break – muy variable – sun, wind, grey, rain, wind, clouds, sun – the heavy freeze that killed christian’s garden in marseille did much the same here, but walks are full of wild flowers.
Tylar. a friend from Oregon days (30 years ago) and a truly great felter (check it out: www.ecosleepsolutions.com/tylar_merrill.html) joins me for the beginning, and is great company as well as great help in all chores inside and out… the new wood stove makes a world of difference in heating and drying out the house… more tree pruning tomorrow, so next year’s wood supply should be in… sometimes the place feels like one giant headache, now that I’m the responsible party, but it is still magic, when I can lift my eyes and spirits from the depths… how will we fare in the future I cannot say… mum has had yet another op, bless her, more slicing and dicing – she seems to have come through pretty well. diana has been with her since I left, but she goes back to scotland tomorrow… I’m coming, I’m coming… I was hoping to get some serious writing time while here, but alas, it seems not to be… too much going on…
Talking of writing, the music for Septimus and Clarissa has been nominated for a Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Score – nice to get some good news for a change…

“Hooray hooray the first of may
Outdoor f—ing used to start today”

Less than a week off from Brecht and Eisler, we had a freak snowstorm last Tuesday (my birthday!) which dumped 6 inches of wet, heavy snow on all the darling buds of march… I was up in scotland visiting my sister faire, where it had been 24 degrees only days before – go figure…

Various and sundry splendid expeditions were made while up north of north: to the beach on the Moray Firth; to Cromarty and the Black Isle; to Ullapool, across the highlands on the west coast, where you catch the ferry to the Hebrides, and home of the reputedly best ceilidh in Scotland – altho’ it hadn’t yet started up for the season, needless to say – neither had the Cromarty ferry, which is why we ended up on the west coast to start with – who knew it was so close? only 55 miles from Inverness – also home of the best fish and chips I’ve ever had (helped by eating it while sitting on the waterfront watching the most amazing evening light); to Randolph’s Leap and the Findhorn river, land of green and gold; to the Benromach Distillery in sis’s home town of Forres, where they make the world’s only organic single malt (and mighty fine it is, too); and to the Automata Museum in Kinloss, owned and operated by one Michael Start, who designed the wonderful automata in Hugo (and repaired Scorsese’s watch) among many others… who knew what treasures lurked in these scottish backwaters? check it out: http://automatomania.co.uk

Sad to say, on my return I found that one of my mum’s wonderful old dogs is no more – dear sweet Patsy, one of a pair of ancient long-haired dachshunds, had a heart attack and had to be put down earlier that day… the other, her brother, dear old deaf and blind Tom, had also fallen into the fish pond a couple of nights previously (Mum had a busy time while I was away, god bless her) – he is bewildered to be on his own, and we are all bereft… I have just cleaned up the kitchen after Easter Sunday lunch – cousin David has taken Aunt Liz home, mum has taken Tom upstairs for an afternoon nap, and all is sort of all right with the world… happy easter…

I fear we may have had our summer already…. it’s been simply glorious the past 5 days or so…. strong sun and real warmth, nay, heat (20 degrees celsius!), blue, blue skies – the river looks like august, it’s so low… the ground is actually dry… gotta love it, gotta fear it… my librettist (and long-time friend) came up for the weekend to kick-start my writing process. Long walks, too much wine, but a whole lot of writing… I am actually writing again, it feels great… god knows if any of it is worth keeping, but I’m writing – hallelujah… but now I must hie me to scotland to see my sister fair… ’tis time for our birth day celebrations… the darling buds of march?

palindrome day… Happy vernal equinox everybody, and happy birthday Johann Sebastian. So glad you are/were around…

A moment of panic when it seems part of the ceiling in my apartment in NY is falling in and my wonderful tenant (who is also looking after my cat) threatens to leave immediately… but thank the lord for good friends… within 24 hours of my flurry of panicked emails, the thing is fixed and all is once again calm and bright. So I don’t need to abandon my mum, to get on a ‘plane to go fix a ceiling – just as well, as she (my mum) is due for more slicing and dicing shortly – though I have to confess to a small, sneaking extra beat of the heart, thinking of a few days back in nyc with my cat and my friends… but the ticket would have been exorbitant, the timing excruciating, and that pleasure will come, that will come, in good time… looking at maybe the end of may, for a week or so, if all is well? kamikaze, wau-wa, anyone? I have regretfully decided that spending the entire month of May at Montalvo is out of the question – too far for too long, things are way too uncertain… the folks at Montalvo have been wonderfully understanding, saying that I have an open invitation to complete my 3rd month of residency when the time is right – I am deeply appreciative, both for their generosity and for the light at the end of the tunnel that it provides…

meanwhile, back in teesdale, spring is springing… the daffs are out in force, and the birds are deafening.

my, what a difference the sight of sunshine and blue sky (not to mention warmth) can make in a girl’s life… a long weekend in Marseille with good friends (L’Estaque, actually… I can vouch for why Cézanne and all those painters chose to live there – the light, that exact shade of blue in the sky, is unlike anywhere else)… markets & music, hikes in the hills, ferry to Frioul, cous-cous in the quartier…. a brief but ecstatic dose of mediterranean living that was exactly what the doctor ordered – I could feel myself opening like a flower….

to combat the hedonism, sunday was the anniversary of the Japan ‘quake & Fukushima disaster, so we drove to Avignon to take part in the 235 km Chaine Humaine from Avignon to Lyon (the area of most of france’s nuclear plants) – my friend Christian, whom I went to visit, and whom I’ve known since we were 14, always reminds me what it is to be a socially responsible human being, in the nicest possible way… a grand day out with kids and grannies, students and shopkeepers hand in hand, all 60,000 of us inching along to join the dots… (it’s missing from the photo journal – couldn’t take pictures because my hands were otherwise occupied) – we also went to a wonderful benefit concert/party the night before at Rouge, a restaurant run by friends – a food drive combined with all kinds of music – african percussion, classical piano trio, lyric chansons, R&B and swing – again, kids and grannies and all in between, a real clubhouse for the community…

en route to marseille I stopped in london for some other “culture” (staying with a friend whom I’ve known since I was seven- we’re talking real roots here). Tate Modern (Kusama and Boetti), Tate Britain (Picasso & the Brits), and Rossini at the Hackney Empire (Barber of Seville), a fabulously restored old vaudeville palace, worthy of the florid lines of the barber’s arias… Kusama’s Infinity Room will stay with me for a very long time… good meals with good friends, one day being breakfast in Cotherstone, lunch in Putney, dinner in Balham, nightcap in Tufnell Park… thank god for London Transport. In spite of all the travel, I feel fully restored.

I’ve been reading Morton Feldman’s collected writings, “Give my regards to eighth street” – what a revelation he is. He had somehow passed me by all these years, until I heard Neither at City Opera last year, as part of the Monodramas evening (with Zorn and Schoenberg), great night, particularly the Feldman, which knocked my socks off. And now this (I found it at the South London Gallery last time I was down) – I find myself constantly saying “Yes!” – particularly when he talks about not being able to work until he has found the perfect chair… and his connection with the visual arts…

Spring is ever closer – in fact a couple of days ago some blue sky appeared overhead on my afternoon walk, the birds were in full throat (well, almost), the views across the dale were distinctly softer, and I had me a new spring song by the time I got home…

I’ve been checking out the local music scene – singing with two different community choruses (the choir thing is very strong in this part of the world) and playing/singing at a couple of different folk music venues. The choruses rehearse in schools – both in Barnard Castle, the local market town (Barney, as it’s known), one in the state school, the other in the private one, or “public” as they’re called here, very confusing – and the music is made in pubs – one at the Old Well in Barney, a monthly gathering of the B.C.Folk Club, and the other in the tiny hamlet of Butterknowle, a half-hour drive along tortuous back roads to the back of beyond, but a thriving community and happening gathering. A wide range of talent from beginner to pretty great, they’ve all been very welcoming to a stranger from across the pond playing ‘foreign’ music – tho’ I do know some traditional tunes, and am spending time with the mandolin learning more – I’ve been taken under the wing of a whistle player who lives in the village, so I have some local cred… And the choir singing is really good for the wind, after years of singing on a microphone… all grist to the mill…

It’s strange… it’s still winter, but you can feel the burgeoning of the coming spring… the birdsong has shifted, and not only are the snowdrops out in force (not in themselves a signal, they stick their heads up happily through the snow) but I caught the first sight of a crocus bud yesterday, and even, down in the lowlands of Richmond this afternoon, where I’d gone for an Alexander technique lesson, the first daffodils – hallelujah. However, I always want to shout “go back, go back!”, as we are sure to get more frost and snow before the winter is out, and things are already confused enough, with the mild january followed by a real deep freeze for the past couple weeks – poor trees don’t know if they’re coming or going…

The sudden frosts create the most fantastic ice patterns on the banks of the river – with the rapid drop in temperature, and the consequent slight drop in water level, the most amazing ice crystals form around the rocks by the water’s edge, star bursts of crystals up to 4 or 5 inches long… and one morning a skin on the surface of the river like cellophane…

After 6 weeks of family visits, it’s just me and my 91-year-old mum (and her two ancient dogs, and my ancient aunt down the road). Theoretically I should be able to get down to work, now that my studio doesn’t have californians staying in it, but it is surprisingly hard… I am not accustomed to grabbing an hour here or there in between caring for other people (unlike some people I know who have written whole books – mainly between the hours of 2 and 4 a.m. – while raising children and holding down a job)… I guess I’m spoiled rotten, having lived alone for the past ten years, and so used to being able to just disappear down the rabbit hole when the spirit (or deadline) moves me, leaving the world behind… is it too late to teach this old dog new tricks?

I caught the David Hockney exhibit at the Royal Academy in London – what a colour bath for the eyes – he is a wonder. He lives and works in Yorkshire now, not so very far from here, and I recognise his landscape – he too moved back to be near his aged mum, and reconnected with his roots after a lifetime away in the States – strange…