Tonight the 22nd of October 2015 is the launch of Kissing The She Bear by the amazing poet Anna Saunders - Anna's poems are dark and deep and whimsical and pull you into the other whilst wrapping the very real world and experiences around you. This time she has teamed up with the excellent Will Humphreys as the books photographer - Will's images are always emotion stirring and thought driving, he is one of my favourite composers within this art form. I am very excited about the combination of these two artists and will also be getting the chance to perform some of my own mythos based poetry at the event in Cheltenham - it is free entry at Copa.
We went to Dismaland thanks to my friend Becca who nabbed us the tickets - it was interesting and not as disturbing as I was expecting though Alaric reminded me not to look in the Cruel Bus - there are photos but you wont see them yet - possibly not before the end of September as I kind of think if you can you should go and if not then you can wait to see my pics 🙂 Also I've written a poem - part of my Found Poems of the Concrete which will accompany the images.
What you do get to see is the rest of our day at Weston which includes a strangely yellow sky!
It was not sunset - the sun is up in the white bobbly clouds!
Suggestions have so far been pollution and sand storm - I think the sand storm is most likely it was quiet a windy day and this part of the country actually has proper sand on it's beaches and that is more land over there in the distance!
We also found Yoda!
And a tea room with only cow milk and no gluten free stuff who basically ignored us and doted on the old people who were spending £40 a pop. I was not impressed and they are not going on list of recommends especially as they do not have a sign saying high teas need to be booked in advance and informed us it's all frozen and needs defrosting. I think this may make me now an officially old person.
On a brighter note we also found some epic sand sculptures which are part of an annual festival. 🙂
We got to watch this guy working on a space invaders section of what appeared to be a giant gamers birthday cake!
This underwater seascape was my favourite!
For a start it's underwater, then it is archeology and it was EPIC!
Then there were these 3D portraits from around the world which were stunning!
These were really beautiful.
There was an oooooook written on the walls of Dismaland and a walk around the sculptures down the road revealed the culprit 😉
He was sitting by a big book of jungle creatures.
It appeared to be coming to life!
I posted it in one of the Discworld groups I'm in and several people pointed out that the Liberian does not have cheek pouches - I pointed out it was actually just the remnants of Horace's hair 😉
I also took some amazing 3D pictures which I need to work out how to get printed as I still can't afford the 3D screen idea I had when I first got the camera!
With all the photo taken, everybody else wondered off but it was ok because they found a tea party for Alaric to join in with 😉
Though he did seem a bit confused!
Anyway - here is a butt load more pics 🙂
I think Alaric liked this Virtual Reality guy.
He seemed to be trying to strike up a convo!
Games, and fairy tales and fiction seemed to be the theme. And the angle on this chess board is amazing.
And last but certainly not least - the Sand Dragon! On a horde of sand gold!
And this morning in the stubbon house of stubbon - I was well pleased with myself as I told the girls to get their PE stuff together last night and it was all easily findable in the wardrobe. Jean announces I never said such a thing and only half her kit is in the wardrobe... obviously she's gotten distracted last night but wont admit this, can't find the bag or her t-shirt (so they are together in the void of lost things). I shout at her over how much clothing costs, she tells me she hates me, Mary tells me I am naughty, I tell Mary if she gets down from her breakfast ONE. MORE. TIME. it's going to the chickens, Mary bursts into tears, Jean hugs Mary whilst glaring at me. I go up and get the too large for Mary spare Mary PE t-shirt and make Jean put it on - it fits but isn't baggy Jean has melt down apparently she is not doing PE, I tell her she is telling the teachers that and why. Whilst dressing and tooth brushing the Mary I get kicked as she flails to get away, I sneeze and head butt her fortunately not hard, fortunetely she saw the funny side of it - convo about how every body hates everybody in the mornings because in truth we all hate the mornings except Alaric who is just in despair as his family is all shouty at each other, Jean's friend mean while is making sarky comments from the sofa where he is playing minecraft. I think I am Dragon Mummy in the mornings, I don't know why Al thinks it helps having me around I feel I just snark at everybody including him (salsa he made for dinner left out on the side).
There is nothing quiet as grumpy as a pre-hot beverage me in the morning especially when morning is grey.
Worse still - my stubbon kids are both being me in the morning so it really is like running up to little bundles of chaotic fury who just want to be asleep and know the world is unfair. I try not to be hypocritical - I think I failed this morning but we were all hugging goodbye in the end and forms for school all filled in and Mary was desperate to come back at lunch time to have our living room picnic.
She really hates this school marlarky and the three days she has done so far she is whirly dervish when she comes home - she's had to sit still and quiet so now she is going to not sit still or be quiet AT ALL. Round and around and around. Though yesterday she liked school as they went outside and there was a squirrel - I was informed in micro-detail about the antics of said squirrel though the bit about the laser cannon beheading it I think was made up 🙂 Not so sure about the cat and dog and goat in a tree bit though - this is the West Country after all!
I had a bit of a panic last night over the logistics of kids clubs as infants aren't allowed to do them which means that not only is it having to be co-ordinated with school run share, it is also going to result in two school pick ups on some days for the whole year - I think we've sorted it now but it was a bit of a headache esp as this stuff is not my strong point to begin with let alone at the tail end of concussion!
But other parents are amazing and the school is thinking of organising after school play which you have to pay for but receptions and the like would be allowed into.
This is not a critism of the school but rather of our school and work systems - economically everything is geared for both parents to be working full time, education wise it assumes there is flexibility to a level that gets tricky for stay at home parents as soon as there is more than one kid. It's kind of doing my nut in and yes it would be easier if I could drive but I can't I was working on it and will be working on it again but right now it isn't do able (still walking into walls here!).
It's that thing of the stuff that gives your kids oppurtunities are a logistical nightmare :/
I'm relearning stuff at the moment due to the old whack on the head - so this mainly means I am colouring in but the girls want to learn the recorder and I have a hang up about the recorder...
Anyway to cut a long story short there is a Frozen recorder book on it's way to us and we have received a rather disappointing Elsa/Frozen "recorder" which is a crap plastic all in one moulded toy that is pretty useless but Mary loves it and it was stupid cheap so hey you get what you pay for (I was still narked if it says recorder - I expect an actual recorder!).
With panic I realised the book would probably be all music notation even though it says easy on it. I can't read music, I have a stab at learning it every few years but nope doesn't work. I normally just work things out by sound etc... this is actually what got me chucked out of my recorder class in school.
Apparently according to the then music teacher you can't be a musician without reading music. You can't play music. This crushed me. What had happened was that she hadn't noticed I couldn't read music, I was watching her and the other kids and working it out by ear and progressing nicely. Even when they started setting homeworks it wasn't too bad as it was nursery rhymes and I just worked them out but then... then they wanted us to do "proper music" story pieces as backing for singers or as part of the orchester. I did not know these songs, my parents were not into classical music - BAM a glass ceiling.
They were complex with different sized recorders - everyone else would turn up knowing the piece, after three weeks of this I knew that something had to happen for me to continue with recorder. So I asked my mum if I could have extra music lessons, she said yes and wrote a letter explaining the situation and that I could not actually read the music - could I have extra lessons (paid for) or did they know who to ask etc... to sort this out.
The letter was the death nell - in front of the enter wind section I was castigated - told that if I hadn't picked up reading music by now then there was no hope - I simply could not be a musician.
I left angry, and confused and crying, a hot mist of shame clouding my vision. I clutched my two recorders, one of which was basically shiny knew and the classic dark brown and cream, my nan had bought it for me as I'd moved up a group.
Being me I became kind of resigned and militant about this. I didn't really want to be playing the recorder anyway - I wanted to play the flute. Being a glutton for punishment I went along to the flute try outs. From my prospective it seemed to be going quiet well, I could get a sound out of the damn thing unlike the others in the room. But then the teacher took the flutist aside and hard the mutterings about not being able to read music, or writing for that matter and so on - I would like to add that I was also not the only child in the room at this point but I think the teacher had forgotten I could now hear properly as it was just after the second lot of grommets had been put in.
I doubt my pitch was perfect (I'm pretty sure it wasn't), I don't do sound as just a hearing thing anyway, I like to feel it, if I can't feel it I can't know if it will fit properly.
Anyway they came over to me and I looked up, "I'm afraid your arms are too short for the flute," he said.
"What about the picalo?" I asked - I was desperate to play the flute - this was because a blue telepathic animated character out of a cartoon series called Ulysses 31 played an epic flute made of gold and lights that she vanquished monsters with. Also I had curly hair - somehow I felt that meant I was destined for the flute.
He hesitated, "you have to learn the flute first before the picalo." He said gravely and I left the music room once more with the angry confused mist of shame and tears and snot.
My mother was furious but we could not afford flute stuff outside of the special schools programme.
Then because you know I never know when to quit I went for the choir in the final year of juniors with the same woman. But I was sick on the day the auditions were supposed to happen. When I got back there were four people out of the entire year who were too bad to go in the choir - they were the people I had extra reading lessons with in the special room.
I am a shy person. I was still determined, I was made to stand in the school hall in front of the entire year and given a piece of sheet music that the teacher knew I could not read. I didn't even know what the song was going to be. I was petrified, everyone knew I wanted to be an opera singer (it was down as part of my three fold dream which involved being a spaceman and archeologist so I could look at rocks - I thought as an opera singing I would get to design the costumes, write the stories and build the sets as well as doing singing, dancing and acting).
I recognised the song, I tried to sing, my voice stuck but then it unstuck and I started to sing.
The teacher loomed in putting her ear right in front of my mouth making comments. But I wanted to be in the choir so much I kept going.
She stopped the music, and announced I was in tune but too quiet and there was no place in the choir for people who couldn't pull their weight. Everyone knew how much I wanted to be in the choir. I don't know if I imagined it but at this point I was sure they were all laughing at me. My form tutor came and rescued me and sat on the stairs with me whilst I cried.
"Hey we can't all be good at everything, what if I told you you hadn't gotten onto the football team? You wouldn't be crying then would you?" we both knew I would never have gone for it as I was still learning to run without falling over at this point.
"I would." I said and she looked at me sitting there in her sports outfit she never took off - she knew me and sports, "if I'd tried out for the football team it would be because I wanted to play football so of course I'd be upset if I didn't get it especially if I was then told I was rubbish and would never be able to do it, in front of EVERYBODY."
She smiled and laughed, "Sarah you are amazing, you'll find away, it will be your own way, now come and see the stuff I've got planned for you lot, you're going to be so glad you aren't in the choir."
And I was - we made things and explored things, including creating our own papier mache puppets and sets. I am also still friends with two of the people who were in that group with me.
Of course I also then went and joined lots of choirs, and learnt the guitar and have sundry instruments in my house. Now I know I am not brilliant at music and I know I panic when ever technical stuff is mentioned but I love music.
These events did mar music for me though and looking at it now from where I am as an adult I feel that, that music teacher was most definately in the wrong. She was also my second year class teacher so I would have been 8? She was my least favourite of the junior school. I did revisit the school once before my work experience (which was in the infant school anyway), I made a special trip to her classroom to tell her how I'd been excepted into the choral society as well as having performed in a local performance of Joseph and his Dream Coat and so on - what I didn't mention was that I still wasn't having any school music or drama classes as I was still having to go to a special room to learn to read and write properly - I did however mention that I had been given a solo without being able to read music. I am glad I didn't know the term passive aggression as I would not have done this and I feel that in all honesty it needed to be done.
So back to the here and now as I am sure I've blogged about this story a couple of times before!
I have a recorder that I play merrily we row along to get children to sit down at readings and workshops. It turns out to be the only song I can remember since hitting my head though Jean says I could play lots of hymns (makes sense they are songs I would have known well enough from church to work out by ear).
Anyway she doesn't get recorder lessons at the school - she's had a bit of uke but they are not a big school and the teacher who could play, left... so I taught her merrily we row along. It took her about half an hour to master and remember and now she is playing it CONTINOUSLY!
Then I was struck by the panic - she was asking for other tunes and I can't remember any and I don't think I was particularly good anyway. That and the realisation that the book though saying EASY recorder would no doubt expect music reading skills... I turned to youtube.
I found this vid of Happy Birthday.
My dad was coming down the next day - it was his birthday - it took me 15 mins to get it down pat and I then remembered it in the morning for the kids to sing along to.
I was so proud of myself.
Jean is keen to learn and Mary has always loved the recorder 🙂
(She is now 4 and not the little thing in this video!)
The first thing that happened was my mum mentioned the teacher and we both had the same thought, if I can teach myself using youtube videos whilst suffering with the tail end of a head injury then how the hell did a qualified teacher stuff it up?
I realise I was a "special needs" kid but still... also there were like over 60 kids in my year - that is a 60 strong choir that was not a super duper choir so would 5 "bad voices" have made that much of a difference espcially if they were far away from the mics? And was it coincidence that we were all the "special needs" kids? I'd never thought on that connection before but it is there.
Anyway - I think I need to rest and then learn another song... well actually I am also setting up a section on here of educational stuff so Jean can find it when she wants to learn without me. It should also be useful to others and I may include links to good education workshop leaders etc... not really decided yet.
One last thing - it turns out I know random stuff about the recorder and sizes and stuff and got very defensive when Alaric suggested that only kids play them and that you never see adults playing them!
Ok. My days are usually pretty stressful. I'm supposed to work from 9am to 5:30pm with an hour's lunch break, but most days, I can't; with the school run I rarely get into work before 9am, and with picking Mary up from nursery (Mon+Fri), or getting Jean to Cubs (Wed), or getting Jean to Ju Jutsu (Tue), I tend to have to leave at 5pm at the latest. So I eat at my desk and work through the "lunch hour" to fit my working day into 9:30am to 5:00pm. Except on Tuesdays, I need to leave at 4pm to get Jean to Ju Jutsu for 4:30pm, so I make up for that by also skipping lunch on Thursday, despite staying until 5:30pm then (I manage to get in for 9am on Thursdays, as I can drop off at school slightly earlier on that day, and Tuesdays too). So it all balances out and I fit my contracted hours in each week, but with zero leeway and no lunch breaks.
Events and Outings, Poems, Sarah | sarah | 
Thu 22nd Oct 2015 9:19 am | 
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