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6 months away, I come back and it’s like putting on a pair of comfortable old slippers – it’s like I’ve never been gone… the weather is filthy, it’s cold and wet, the predominant colours are grey and green – but no sooner have I landed in the village than I run into old friends and neighbors … village life… the cottage is none the worse for wear, a bit cold and damp but no leaks, and sweet sam is looking fighting fit and so happy to see me…

but not all is fun and games… dear sweet Liz is on the way out, barely in the land of the living… the first days back we have good visits, relatively, with good conversation – her body has totally crapped out on her, she is bed-ridden, but her eyes and spirit are still totally there… but by today, her 90th birthday, she has to make a supreme effort to stay with us long enough for us to give her the gifts, cut the cake, and sing a couple of songs, before she has drifted off to the land of nod… I find myself wishing she would drift off to sleep while sis and I are singing and never come back…

the past few days been a ghastly whirlwind of going through her house and dividing up the spoils between the cousins – the house is all but sold – her decision, no blame attached – but what I need like a hole in my head is more stuff, and somehow it all seems premature, altho’ I know it’s not…. however, I – we all – want to honour her life and her memory by taking on the things of her life, giving them a home with us, a continuation of some sort – plus it’s all so redolent of family, of the grandparents and generations before… but the cottage is already crammed to the gills with things from saltoun…. what will I do with it all??

we went to the morritt arms anyway, the 4 of us, david, nepole, diana and I, where we would have taken Liz, had she been up for it, and had lunch in her honour, watching the rain pour down in torrents outside… and tonight we all went to have supper with moppet and johnny (cook-hurle), which was a whole load of fun, coming home under the light of a beautiful half moon and a sky full of stars – typical of this part of the world – dreary days and clear, crisp nights…

as I said, sam is sooo happy – he is a cotherstone cat, I cannot move him; angela is happy to continue feeding him with the hope that he will move in with her by next winter… so be it… if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it…

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…