Day 417: Soulful Singsong

The lady not at the edge showed us the way from the bus!

Aaaaahhhhhh, singing. Aaaaahhhh, Brighton. Haven't you done well. 

Thanks to Karen McMillan, Kate and I went into Brighton to sing this morning - African/Buddhist was how it was billed. It was AMAZING. Around 40 people, if my crowd perception is anywhere close (could have been 30, could have been 60). We stood in big old room at Brighton Dome and sang just three songs in two hours, but how rich and pleasing every second was. 

Brighter Star - that was the first one. There could be another brighter star, but in my heart, your light is all I see. Something along those lines. Five parts. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Lots of different rhythms going on too. So good. Then Alunde (which he had to spell, because most of us were singing about some bloke called Alan Day). It's an African worship song. We did the first bit before the break and that in itself was satisfying. When we came back, we added a whole nother bit. Brilliant. Better still. 

Mahashuka

And finally, the words 'maybe I was born to hold you in my arms' sung in five parts, plus a male and a female voice riffing over the top and a lady (the lady who randomly had guided off the bus and into the singing) dancing. I kept having to stop because I was so moved, I was crying. It was fabulous. AND I got to sing the bass part. Not hugely bassy, but it was a lovely melody.

Kate's whole visit was just right. Lots of lovely things to talk about. I'm always inspired by Kate, one of the most determinedly creative people I've ever met. We talked a lot, ate well and healthily (oh hello, vegetable risotto, hello, salad) and she very graciously went and worked on her Easter Sunday sermon while I squeezed in a quick Skype with Nicolò before dinner. It was a very nice Skype. I'm really quite excited about the plans that are taking shape. Desperate to use a smiley, but this blog has never seen one, and I'm determined it never will. Just imagine my face.

I normally pretend there's not telly in anywhere I live, so that's what I've been doing here. Today, I had an education. We watched Come Dine With Me (oh dear - crap and moreish like cheap tortilla chips). Next up, Britain: My New Home, which was well-made, moving, almost heartbreaking it moments: the boy who's holding out to go home to Pakistan to visit the grandmother who brought him up, but she died unexpectedly a week before the trip. What was most moving was his determination to stick steadfastly to his religion to explain it, at times blaming his own non-pious acts as a child for the fate of his beloved mother in kind; then the Zimbabwean boy who, when asked what would disappoint his mother, spouted forth with a revealing flow about how being gay would disappoint her, and that he didn't want to be gay, he wanted to be a real man... And the girl - a study in adaptability and mimicry - from no English at all to a full on North Yorkshire accent in about a year. She fits in like nobody's business and yearns to go home. 

Then, just to round off the night with a different flavour, we watched Made in Chelsea. Fuck! Shhiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Any other expletive you can think of. What the fuck was THAT? It is, according to Wikipedia, a 'scripted documentary', where real people play scripted versions of themselves living their 'real' lives. It was like the worst of soaps, except are these people real or not, or what? What? The main theme seemed to be people being pretty nasty to other people. Thing is, it was fascinating, like surgical procedures are (if you're me). You can only just look. We talked all the way through it, of course, and did quite a lot of research. Unlike the real documentary, I won't be seeking it out again, but I'm glad I saw it once, and in such good company. 

In the morning, I had the pleasure of doing a guided meditation I'd written for Kate. I was a bit scared that it wouldn't be good, but I really enjoyed writing it and more still delivering and recording it, with lots of little ad-libs at the same time. Very good indeed. A very pleasing thing to do. Thank you, Kate, for this opportunity, and for lending me your ninja recording creature so I can do another one for the yoga teens I'm teaching tomorrow.

Singing harmonies, though. Have to do more of that. Really really.