Blog & Photo Journal Archive

I’ve been back a month, and sure enough I’m starting to get itchy feet… but I am determined to try and stay put this time. (finances also play a large part…)

My new home (which I LOVE) is coming together slowly – trying hard to keep the clutter to a minimum (figuring out where and how the shelves will go is testing my carpenter’s patience) – and I am continuing to slowly prep both the Monteverdi and the Brecht/Eisler pieces. Spent the day with Karin last week doing Strangers And Other Angels – what a great and diverse group of people, all willing to freeze their asses off for the sake of really telling a story… Had a fabulous Mr. Wau-Wa gig at Barbes, one of our best – I so love that repertoire, and those musicians (Doug, Kenny, Marcus, Rinde), who do it better than anyone, anywhere… and it was a vintage Thanksgiving up in Nyack, with only 17 at table, the core group plus a few new (lovely) girlfriends – so happy to be back in the fold…

Sis Diana is struggling valiantly with a solo menorcan winter. We both have a large dose of the “grass is greener” syndrome and “what have I done?” doubts but also, hopefully, some wisdom, after this much time on the planet…. We are both determined to see this phase of things through, where we each are, and see where it gets us… I’m going to throw my solstice party for whoever is still in town, and thank my lucky stars for being one of the fortunate few…

It’s been two years since I started this, and I think I’ll sign off for now… be well, make music, perform random acts of kindness, and live in hope…

Back to winter… snow flurries in the city as I flew back yesterday, quite the contrast… luckily I spent the weekend in london where it was rather chill and dreary so I had a little warning…

Menorca remained beautiful until after I left… such a gift… great walks – some known, some unknown – swimming in the limpid water off Cavalleria, even Galdana (no tourists), hiking the Cami Reial to S’Algendar – the occasional evening fire to warm and dry the house, and much great work on the finca. The greatest of all was the final clearing of Mateo’s shanty town out back, including the remains of the old plastic greenhouse, emptying the pigsty, and removing all the old well pipes – 4 great truck loads of porqueria went to the dump – hallelujah… the four of us – Diana and I, Sebastian and Miguel (and Miguel’s truck) wrought miracles in my last two days. I thought “if I stayed another month I could really clean up the finca” but then it was only because I was leaving that we got it done… meanwhile the house is warm and snug, the fire laid, the carpets down, and I hope diana hunkers down for the winter… god speed…

happy birthday mum…

Little did I know when I named this blog the Transcontinental Shuffle how apposite the title would turn out to be – these past 2 months have turned me into a spinning top… 2 weeks in new york, 2 weeks upstate, 3 weeks in new york, 2 weeks in cotherstone, and so far 2 weeks in menorca – it’s enough to make anybody’s head spin… it wasn’t meant to be like this, honest…

We did Gertrude proud up at The Mill – a fierce and original piece of work, performed outside, inside, up, down, in rain and hot sun, in all its glory… mazaltov, Karin, and many thanks to david gersten and the wonderful crew up there, and to the cooks for the wonderful feasts… here’s hoping the piece has a future…

I came back to the city and signed papers, played a wonderful “welcome home” gig at Barbes with all (or most) of my favourite musicians, packed up and moved to Westbeth – and then my uncle died. As he was the pater familias (dad’s elder brother) and cousin David had been so good being my back-up, I felt the least I could do was go back for the funeral and be there for him in turn… so 3 days after moving I left town again. Back to Cotherstone – not exactly a hardship, other than the funeral itself, which is never fun – but we had a good family reunion, including a splendid session that night at the Rose & Crown , from which we got thrown out for singing (!) and moved en masse across the road to the Kirk where we finished the night in fine style – thank you Paul for your hospitality… I think Bill (and Freddie) would have been proud.

And from thence to Menorca, by means of an insanely cheap ticket (£24 from Newcastle direct to Mahon), to help sis winterize the house for her all-season habitation… I would have been very happy staying in new york and settling back in, but it was important to go to the funeral, and it was important to come out here with Diana and start this new chapter together. I will return to NY early November, and in the meantime am relishing what I think is probably the best month of the year here. The weather is variable, but for the most part so far has been idyllic – hot sunny days, cool nights, still warm sea (relatively, if you’re a polar bear) and no tourists – heaven… there have been a few cold, grey, wet days, but we have taken delivery of a massive load of good firewood – seasoned, dry ullastre – so we are prepared. I have moved into mum’s room, which altho’ beautifully proportioned, turns out to be rather dark and damp (it is lower than the rest of the house and on the north-east corner, with only one window) so we bought a de-humidifier, at which point it turned really hot and we have been swimming… go figure… meanwhile I have set up the piano and play scales and work on Monteverdi to stop me turning into a pumpkin. It’s hard to carve out time for the music, there is so much to be done around the finca, but then that is why I’m here…

The world is round is round is round is round…. progress report…

One week in, one week to go… as always, I am wondering why the hell (theater hell) I agreed to do this … but I know, really I do… trying to make something out of nothing but potential… there are many down sides, as always, but plenty of ups… and if not this, then what? navel gazing? existential angst? mourning? there’s enough of that even when busy, so shut the f**k up and get on with it… enjoy your good fortune… and the company – what a lovely bunch…

the mill is a construction site, not yet fit for audience – the only entrance to the upstairs, which is the most beautiful big open performance space, is a very rickety fire escape – so we rehearse and eat upstairs, but will perform outside in front – in the thick of the construction. John Conklin is slowly turning it blue, with the aid of garbage bags, tarps, tape and paint (shoestring budget); Oana’s costumes for the girls and I are wild, and a symphony of blues; Brian is working with floodlights, flashlights, strip lights, all things portable and weatherproof (the rain and storms are starting – oh my…). I am upstairs in the windows with all the instruments (most of them toy size) plus looping pedal, school bell, a bucket of water, an old beaten-up piano in the far corner, and “The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas” – the inside of Gertrude’s head…

there is a lake nearby for swimming, and every day we gather for a wonderful communal meal in the middle of the work day – we have feasted wonderously well… we even had a fire pit at the end of the first day of tech, before our day off, at which I consumed large quantities of bourbon and eventually broke out the bari uke, only for rain to stop play…

meanwhile, I’ve gone ahead and let go of my home of the past 18 years, and taken the studio in westbeth…at least I agreed to it, on the last day before leaving for upstate – too late to do any of the paperwork, that will have to wait until I get back… I may live to regret it, but I feel it’s important to make the changes count… trust your instincts, girl… there’s a dance in the old dame yet – toujours gai, kid…

pesha is out of cairo and back in the UK – sighs of relief all ’round…

Tomorrow it’s back to New York. Really? …

The week on the Isle of Skye was sheer delight: perfect weather, great hikes, great company, outdoor dining and wining, music making of all sorts, sleeping in front of a giant picture window looking north out to sea, the beach only feet away… heaven… My favourite? Probably my solo hike to Rubha Hunish, the northern point of Skye, where you literally walk to the end of the world (after climbing down a 300′ cliff, just to make sure you merit it…) Skinning dipping in the Fairy Pools in Glen Brittle was a close 2nd – the best creek dipping I’ve ever had, I think… And feasting outside every evening at the great stone table on the edge of the beach – with sun and no midges – scotland in july?? is it possible?? yes, once in a blue moon…

It was, of course, merely postponing the inevitable, but for a whole week I barely thought of life’s complications – De Queen of Denial, that’s me, now that mum’s gone… and of course I’ve paid for it this past week in cotherstone, dealing with overdue bills, back taxes, lawyers etc etc… Sam has reappeared, which is wonderful, but a truly mixed blessing – I’m sooo happy to see him (and vice versa) but since I can’t take him back just yet, I was kinda hoping he’d found another home… what to do, what to do? let’s see where we’re at mid-september – I’ll come back and get him if necessary…

sweet aunt liz has been in hospital for the past 5 weeks – not doing so good… but she’s finally back in Barnard Castle at least, so she won’t be so far away – she’s been in Durham all this time – mum’s old haunt… who knows if she’ll ever come home… time, the grim reaper…

and what’s waiting for me back in nyc? again, who knows? one foot in front of the other, take it as it comes, cherish the joy, make light of the sorrow… I wrote a new tune at the Boathouse in Skye… big city, here I come – well, briefly, before heading upstate to work on Gertrude Stein with Colombari…

Hard to believe my 2 months in menorca are over – got back here late last night, and leave early tomorrow morning for Scotland – the grand reunion on the Isle of Skye – from one gorgeous island to another – how can I complain? the bad news is that Sam has taken off – I was afraid this might happen, but he’s a fully integrated outdoor cat now, and who am I to try and take him back to the US and stick him in the confines of an apartment again? god speed, que vaya bien, gatito…

I left menorca with great regret, but in good hands… the party was a great success, altho’ highly emotional and quite exhausting in some ways… all the old folks from the early days, menorquins, catalans, english, french – a wonderfully mixed group, and all there to raise a glass to the Non-Pareils of Biniparrell… we did a wee concert out by the pool towards the end for the die-hards, which was a fitting tribute – all M&P’s favourite songs, and then some… it reminded me of that lovely scene in Talk To Her, the Almadovar film, when Caetano sings for folks after dinner… and in fact the next day Sebastian said “estaba el cine…”

We’ve had real summer for weeks – glorious…. except for my encounter with the large medusa – damn those things are nasty… but so beautiful…

Westbeth has offered me another apartment, naturally, which I can’t see – I seem fated… and I arrived back here to find a stack of mail that all demands my attention but I’m afraid it will have to wait for another week, until I get back from skye… it’s waited this long…. I can only do so much and I will NOT get stressed out by it all… a whole bunch of stuff didn’t sell at Tennants’ auction… and the saga continues… but I’m going over the sea to skye….

only a few days left, and then it’s on to the next chapter… but for now alles gut… sis has arrived – in a million pieces, but miraculously recovered within a few days, to be able to go to a dinner with old friends/neighbours, and sing until 2 a.m. yes…

as I said to her, just get here….and she did. Today we did Business – bank, lawyer etc… and we have cleared the coach house, with two midnight runs to the dump, highly illegal but necessary… I had a nasty encounter with one of the big purple medusas a week ago, truly horrible, but things are better now, altho’ I am gun shy of the water, which is a real bore…

Italy was a Good Thing… slightly strange, but really lovely people, and a gorgeous old palazzo to live and work in – what’s not to like? The production is slated for this time next year… meanwhile, while I was in Italy Karen and Olive were here in menorca, having a fabulous week without me (I postponed my departure a couple of days so I could overlap for 24 hours and give them the whirlwind tour). doug showed up before they left, and was waiting or me upon my return. they drained the cisterna accidentally, huge drama which sebastian duly rectified, only for doug to find himself without water completely the day they left and before I returned… s. eventually drained the cisterna on purpose, removing giant beards of tree roots, and replaced the “press control”of the cisterna pump – we have yet to see the bill… but doug and I had a lovely couple of days before sis arrived, and his being here for her arrival was all to the good… now he’s back in the u.s.of a. and she and I are sorting through the layers of “stuff to be done together” – unpacking the rest of the boxes from saltoun, bank, lawyers etc etc…

we have decided to go ahead with giving a party for mum (and dad) before I go… kind of insane, given the time constraint, but next year just won’t do… so wednesday it is… federico and maria arrive tomorrow, mirabile dictu, as do Mark and Katy, and Jean, so it will be last minute and très informal…

Summer is here, at last… for how long, who knows, things seem muy variable this year, but for now the sun is hot, the sky is deep blue, there is a faint breeze – perfect. This morning I had my inaugural early morning swim in the Big Blue Bathtub – com’ un espejo, and narry a medusa in sight… heaven (after the initial shock – the water is still very cold), and entirely to myself… yes…

I have been gathering cactus and succulent cuttings from friends far and wide, intent on turning this into a less water-dependent finca. Looking good – the only problem is the tortugas – they LOVE them and have been feasting on pretty much everything I’ve planted – it’s going to be war soon… they are great to have around the place but NOT when they eat my garden! Talking of diminishing plants, Sebastian hired a truck with a grua and we pruned the pine by the road one morning (with Madji’s help – he’s here fixing his boat) – a bit like a haircut, first one side was too short, then the other, so now there is LOTS of early morning sun coming in – the bougainvillea against the garage wall is already showing its appreciation, and I have planted a few colourful things along the path of the early morning sun… of course the tortugas like them too…

Very disappointing news from Bonhams – neither painting sold. So now we owe THEM money – not at all what I had in mind… And the price of Saltoun got lowered by a chunk as a result of the 60 page surveyor’s report… so much for thinking I’d got it all sorted…. best laid plans… plus Diana is not at all well and may not make it out here next week… and if she does, she will be a basket case. hey ho… I am still headed for Italy at the end of the month, for a week’s rehearsal on Orfeo, in spite of missing musicians and unfinished charts… soldiering on… I’m going for another swim…

Days of heavy rain, with intermittent intense sunshine and warmth… many hours of glorious sleep, with Ratonera to keep me company (she showed up the night I arrived, as always) – I feel her weight on the bed and think of Sam, hoping he’s enjoying his liberty in the garden and the studio, with angela to feed him… he finally figured out the cat flap, so now he can come and go as he pleases, with the studio as his sanctuary, and the garden and the rest of cotherstone as his playground – how bad can it be? The ‘phone here is still blissfully on the blink, I do the odd bit of gardening between bouts of slumber, making war on the plumbago roots that have taken over everywhere…

Sunday the sun finally came out, blazing in a clear blue sky, so I hung everything out to dry, bedding, clothes, shoes, the works, and went off to have sunday lunch of grilled rabbit at La Rueda – on the Moby, no less, which is running like a champ, Begonia must have fixed it along with the car, bless her – only to find when I returned that it had rained heavily and everything was soaked – and I mean everything… oh well… managed to get the bedding dry enough to sleep in – thank heavens for the long hours of daylight, and thank you Julia for the loan of an electric blanket – and the rest can wait… sleep is all I care for… but so saying, aside from the occasional gardening I have taken a couple of lovely walks, one by the sea, one through the fields around and about… by god, I love this island…

It is pouring rain and the telephone isn’t working, so I can neither do business nor drag all the drawers outside and air out the house – I guess the universe is saying that it’s okay to just eat and sleep for a few days – I am bone tired…

Saltoun is sold, I think (subject to contract, and the surveyor’s report)… it was on the market for less than two weeks before we got an offer that seemed almost perfect – actually two, but we accepted the one from the folks that I really liked, and whom I thought would be both good for the house and good new blood for the village… plus their own house was practically sold, and as everyone kept saying “a bird in the hand…” I accepted the offer on april 30th, and by may 15th, yesterday, when I left, the house was empty. That has to be the hardest thing I have ever done in my life… Some of the contents went into the studio, which we are keeping (plus the potting shed underneath, which is a wonderful storage room), some is coming on a truck to menorca, and a large quantity was taken away by Bradleys to be auctioned off at Tennants, that most salubrious and reputable auction house in Leyburn. Rodney Tennant has become quite a friend, as has Greg Bradley, their carrier, who is personally driving out the stuff that’s coming here – I have indeed been well looked after… also, two different old friends (ex boyfriends both) came to help me through the process and both turned up trumps in their own way. I am a lucky girl – mustn’t forget, as my heart breaks over the passing of an era…

It was the books that did me in… Tennants took all the hardbacks, many, many of them, including all the Churchilliana – his memoirs inscribed by him to my father, etc. – but there were still several hundred paperbacks, and I thought I would leave them for the buyers, who said they were happy to inherit whatever… but that final morning the charity shop van driver, who has become a fixture over the past few weeks, came for his last load and said he’d love to take the books, and the next thing I know he and Wallace were stripping the shelves in Pa’s study, loading all the books into plastic carrier bags, and I just lost it… books are the soul of a house, it seems to me, and it felt like rape and pillage… I shut myself in the (empty) sitting room and bawled my eyes out for fifteen minutes – first really good cry I’ve had since this all started, I guess it was a good thing in the end… someone else came from the village jumble and took a whole load of books and trinkets – and so the cycle continues… es la vida… but I felt like such a betrayer there for a moment, letting the looters in… however, the luristan bronzes and islamic pottery will hopefully go to a museum with mum’s name on the collection, and I have boxes of both of their letters and journals and photos up in the attic of the studio… I have done my best, my very best… and now I need some rest… I need some gina time for a while… Sayonara, Saltoun…

Well, I have finally booked myself a ticket for Menorca, in a month’s time. I’ve been waiting to see my way clear here but I now realise that that day may never come, so I just have to call it quits at some point, at least for the time being. As time goes by, it just seems to get harder… to quote the Other Immortal Bard, “it doesn’t get easier, it just gets later.”

The house goes on the market this week. In spite of taking the pills religiously, I still lie awake at night wondering if I’m doing the right thing, dismantling the family legacy. I know we can’t afford to keep this place. I know the overheads are beyond us. I know Diana can’t live here and it’s too big for me alone even if I wanted to stay and make my life here, which I’m not sure I would want to do anyway – have to check back in with new york first… I know we need to sell this in order to hang on to menorca. I know it’s not my life, here, but my parents’. But still I wonder if I couldn’t find a way to preserve it… it seems so awful to dismantle such an amazing legacy… especially as at this point in time, its monetary value has dropped through the floor… Progress (in terms of the dismantling) is so heartbreakingly slow… partly outside circumstances – lawyers, agents, it all takes time, especially trying to find the right homes for all their collections – but partly also because my sister can only do about one thing a day and then her brain packs up, and if I try and move faster without her, things invariably go belly up. This would be hard enough without the emotional roller-coaster rides… but that’s where we’re at, and it’s no good wishing things were different. It’s what is. We are putting the house on the market, but for the moment hanging on to the two adjoining bits – the annexe/my studio, and the rented cottage. Partly, mostly, because a total break with the place seems impossible right now; to keep the cottage means a tiny bit of income (and we don’t want to disrupt the tenants’ lives if we can help it); and the studio means a place to put the stuff we want to hang on to for now… perhaps it would be simpler to just cut loose and let go of it all – if we could find a buyer – one of the agents advised against it, as it would make the package pretty pricey and might scare off potential house buyers… but maybe it would be easier to find someone who wanted all of it together, and just divest… who knows? my head is reeling, I’m drowning in a sea of possibilities… in a sea of stuff… so much stuff… so many attachments… so many decisions…

Hard to believe it’s only a little over 2 weeks since I was in Egypt. What an amazing trip… the diem was righteously carped: not only did I see Cairo from an insider’s point of view – 30 million people and no traffic lights, think about it (altho’ I must be the only person to go to cairo and NOT see the pyramids and the cairo museum – actually I did see them, but from the other side of town, from the top of the Citadel on that first morning when the sky was so clear, before the sandstorm blew in) – I also realised 2 dreams of a lifetime: glorious Alexandria for 2 days (the book market by night, the new library, the perfect museum, the mediterranean) – I had said I wanted to sip a beer on a terrace overlooking the sea and hey presto, lunch at the Greek Club, out by the old Fort, as the tail of the sandstorm whipped up the sea (no sand left in the wind, thankfully) so it looked like the Moray Firth on a summer’s day); and best of all, 2 days in the desert – the Black Desert, the White Desert, the Crystal Mountain – sleeping under the stars in the white desert, just me and pesha and Kookah our guide – who needs drugs when you have that hallucinagenic landscape? I covered way more miles than any sane person should in the course of a week, but we had such a good time, it was worth every one of them. I just want to go back, and go deeper in… As a final bonus, after a felucca ride on the Nile my last afternoon back in Cairo, I had an over-night in Istanbul on the way back which afforded me a few early morning hours in the grand Bazaar, where I loaded up on bling to bring back to sis as baksheesh… and then straight down to Devon for Easter weekend with good friends – how can I complain??

But none of which got me off the hook for this part… Absolutely nothing got done while I was gone, not even the mail opened. It was all waiting for me when I got back, ever more present and unaccounted for… Sam survived very well, however, living in the studio and being fed by sweet Angela next door… talking of which, I need to find him a home for 2 months while I’m in menorca. yes I bought the ticket but have not figured out how it’s going to work. But I know I need to go and deal with the aftermath out there – hopefully I will also get some real down time as well, alone time, and writing time… god knows I need it… Orfeo has been put on hold, altho’ I may go over just for a week (I’d still have to do all the work, for a fraction of the fee – hmm…) I must just trust… ’tain’t what you do, it’s the way how you do it…

Talking of which, I did my solo gig in Reeth – I was going to have special guests join me for the 2nd half, to wit, sis, but she got sick of course so it was truly solo and actually I had a great time. The hall was packed, I converted the stage to my living room (they provided a perfectly decent roland piano and a floor lamp, I supplied the rest), and Phil, musician friend from Newbiggin, was sound man, roadie and driver – the latter very important, as it meant I could drink not only during but after the gig and not have to drive that insanely tortuous road home through Arkengarthdale. The set list was a mixed bag – my songs, brecht, music hall, you name it, I don’t suppose they’d ever seen or heard anything like it, but I made the choir a pot of money – could have done with some of it myself, but hey ho, what else is new? Count your blessings, girl…

I thought looking after mum was hard, but compared to this it was a walk in the park…. 6 weeks later, the dust still hasn’t settled, but I am wading through the mounds of paperwork, and the endless phone calls, and the contents of the house, while being asked daily to make decisions that seem way beyond me…. I guess this is what it is to be in the front line… I know that some day this will all be behind me and the next chapter will be here, whatever that is… I ask only to be able to weather this with good grace, to accept the good fortune and to tread lightly through the rest… I get to sing in the St. Matthew Passion this weekend in Durham Cathedral, and the following day in the Faure Requiem in a tiny church in Swaledale, and then I go to Cairo for a week to see Pesha (if I can get my shots in time), so things will be on hold for a while. Look on the bright side…

Meanwhile, although spring showed its face briefly last week, we now have another 3 or 4 inches of snow – it’s been alternating all day between total white-out and siberian blizzards followed by brief patches of sunshine, in very rapid succession… good that yesterday I made two major dump runs, plus 15 giant bags to the local charity shop… and the friends who came to lunch today turn out to own an incinerator, so they left with two giant boxes of old paper… progress is being made. I even paid the outstanding £1000 heating bill. Plus I get to meet with lawyers and realtors later this week. Huzzah… as a friend said, “you should be so lucky, to have such problems!”

And now she’s really gone – we had the thanksgiving service last weekend, and the cremation yesterday…

The service was wonderful… a gloriously cold, crisp, sunny day, the little cotherstone church was packed to the rafters, the sun shone through the stained glass windows onto the flowers, the tributes were wonderful and everyone sang lustily – particularly the Battle Hymn of the Republic, which mum had requested to see her out (we kept only the first verse, sis writing a second one that was more appropriate to the occasion) – who knew that the wonderful village organist could give so rousing a rendition? and then the house bursting at the seams with villagers and friends from all points for tea and sandwiches and stronger libations, dwindling down to the core group and way too much whisky late into the night. It was a fitting send-off – I think she would have thoroughly enjoyed it… the cremation was much harder, but just family, so keeping it together wasn’t so important. and so it is done.

We’ve had family and friends around all week, which has been hugely helpful… next week, when they’re all gone and it’s just me and sis trying to figure out what to do with all this – and the future – then the really hard part begins…. but step by step… I’m probably going to sign off from this for now… I’ll be in touch…

Well, she’s gone.

As was to be expected of her, she made a quick and brilliant exit when the time came that she was getting zero pleasure out of life. Wednesday night she was in the sitting room in front of the fire with a whisky and soda (albeit weak and in a wheelchair), thursday morning she sat in on her customary literature class via skype from her bed (happened to be on Herrick this week, her favourite 17th century poet) and she was gone by 8pm that night – last night… it is the end of an era…

We are in deep mid-winter here in Cotherstone, with a foot and a half of snow and counting. Last night was extraordinarily beautiful – bitter cold and crystal clear, with a big bright shiny moon and lots of stars – perfect for travel to the stars… and this morning it started to snow again…. Sister is stuck up in northern Scotland, snowbound, so I am on my own – hard, but perhaps a blessing in disguise.

My mother was an amazing lady – and an elegant one, who kept her sense of humour ’til the end, in spite of it all. It was a privilege to have spent the past year and some months with her, and I have done what I came to do. I will be here for some time yet, sorting out the aftermath. What comes next I have no idea – but then, when have I ever?

Happy New Year. The numbers are good – 0123… let’s hope for the best… and prepare for the worst…

We managed a pretty merry christmas, in spite of everything – I did the whole nine yards, stockings, tree, mistletoe, midnight mass, full xmas dinner for 8 with all the trimmings including home-made bread sauce with the clove-studded onion, grandma’s stuffing, the best gravy in the world (of course) and flaming pud and brandy butter – you name it… plus a really good Lafite from the cellar… always a silver lining… but by the day after Boxing Day I had a mini melt-down – sis wasn’t being much help (needing all her energies to take care of herself, and being mean to me in her spare time) and I could see no end in sight… all agreed I needed a break.

So first a night off in Swaledale, where I went for a christmas party… lovely old house made up of a row of miner’s cottages – 20-odd folk sitting around singing carols by the fire interspersed with readings, recitations (including Albert and the Lion) and songs… plus good food and drink. Lovely. And I had booked myself a room at a lovely Inn nearby, Low Rowleth – oh bliss, oh heaven… a real 24 hour holiday… I want to go back there…

And then to Belfast for the Tonk New Year’s Eve Banquet… 3 days of peace and controlled mayhem with old university friends – just what the doctor ordered… (barely made it out of the house in one piece – my sis had her meltdown that morning and it was not pretty…) The Tonk Banquet began in Belfast in 1969 (my first was 1973) and is held annually in celebration of the various and sundry exploits of Henry Tonk (brother of Ernest Tonk, maker of the Honky Tonk piano) – discovering oil, going to Hollywood, or the Psing Prawn Province, and this year the circus. Perfect. Traditionally 12 people (we were 16 this year, tho’ never more than 14 at any one time), 12 courses and 12 entertainments (each person responsible for one of each), starting at 8pm and ending at 8am in the old days – these days the attrition rate is pretty high, but a small group of us made it to 4.30… I made a merry-go-round for the hors d’oeuvres (with help) of which I was inordinately proud, and also a savoury course – someone bailed at the last minute and I cannot say no to Marcus. He said it was called “Frying Trapeze” – ?? – Isabelle came up with the brilliant notion of Trois Peas and I was away… 14 of them I made… John made a cannon that shot Henry to the balcony, along with a lot of fireworks… this year was remarkable for the number of edible courses, actually a problem… usually many are more show than blow, which makes it easier to work your way through…but it was vintage, and I had the most marvellous time… thanks, guys, for keeping it up all these years so I could be there this year…. that’s what friends are for….

Back to Cotherstone and into my studio with Sam (Brendan had arrived from CA for a week’s visit and was in the kids’ room – I’ve been doing the bouncing bedroom routine…) – lovely to be out on our own for a bit even if the family dynamic was extra complicated. Mum is really frail – can’t really leave her alone in the house unless she is in bed… but then she’s only up for about 3 hours in the morning and 3 hours in the evening…. it’s awful to see her struggling up the stairs, oh so slowly, one ghastly step at a time, but at least she can still do it (only bloody just…) We all went to Richmond to see Life of Pi – a great outing, and what a film – breathtaking… only blighted by the fact that Sam was at the vet’s under general anesthetic having a bunch of stitches in his right front leg…. I thought he’d been in a fight but the vet thinks he caught it on something – massive gash, but very clean, and luckily no tendons or ligaments ripped, only the skin… after a couple of rocky days he seems his old self pretty much – but oh my heart…. didn’t sleep much for a couple of nights…

Brendan left a couple of days ago and Diana left this morning, so now it’s just mum and me. My new year’s resolution is to recognise when I need help and ask for it. I have started this week to have a carer come in for a half hour 5 days a week – sometimes morning, sometimes lunchtime, and one evening – it’s going to take working out, but I cannot do this alone…. already I know I need more…

On a lighter note, a lovely sight one morning as I was walking down the Hagg to the river – on the crest of the hill opposite, up by Low Shipley Farm, first one horse with a red-coated rider galloped across, then 2, then the entire hunt – fabulous…

and Diana and I got a lovely day’s hike over cronkley fell…

Also I had a loaner mandola for a month – a beautiful Fylde Octavius – I want one… the perfect continuo instrument with which to conduct Orfeo…