Sunday 29 January 2012

Following Tom Thumb

I was asked to play at Tattershall Castle in Lincolnshire yesterday. Whilst I sat freezing in the great hall playing the harp Dave and Jack were left to explore the village. They started with the Church and found Tom Thumb's grave. It never occurred to me that he really existed. He died in 1620 aged 101 and was 47 cm high apparantly. There is a lovely photo of 'his house' on Tattershall village website - it is perched high on the roof of another house so small you can hardly notice it from the ground!

The castle itself was impressive but the moat was dry. It is normally fed from the river but they have had to close the sluice gates because of lack of rain ... (YES!) no such luck here!!! I am fed up of squelching everywhere in wellies and getting stuck. Anyway I might go back - the knights (booked to fight outside) and the National Trust were very impressed and took cards.

We are catching up slowly after a horrendous year. The harp 'Mystical' which did its first gig in May last year continues to amaze me - it sounds absolutely beautiful and multi-strung harps are like wine - they improve with age. I will never hear it at its best which I reckon to be about 100-200 years from now.

You have to look after harps though - a warning - I have collected 2 harps with central heating damage this week. The wood dries out and every joint comes apart and the harp is damaged permanently. If you have musical instruments in a heated house leave them well away from heat - they like CONSTANT TEMPERATURE. Leave WATER in a dish somewhere near for moisture.

Thursday 19 January 2012

The lost Bell

I have lost a bell ... and ... yes ... I do think that Father Christmas borrowed it and forgot to give it back! Bells are extremely difficult to get hold of. A few years ago hand bells were in every Christmas catalogue but not now alas.

This particular bell was my lament bell. These bells used to be wrapped in linen to dull the sound at funerals. I shall keep looking and will have to improvise until I find it!

I am performing at The Square Chapel tomorrow (Friday 20th January) - starts at 8 pm. I have an amazing set of people who follow my music and I love the fact that music brings together people together.

Nearly the entire set has been written by my husband, Dave. (In true spirit of: 'If you can't beat 'em, join 'em'!) We start in Ethiopia, 3,000 years ago ...
Come and listen - see you there?

Monday 9 January 2012

scared of the dark

Our young lad, Jack, is scared of the dark. Has to sleep with the light on. Every night our two donkeys come into their warm and dry, cosy, stable for the night. The last two weekends the weather has been atrocious and some days we have left them inside. (Donkeys are not waterproof so they need to have decent shelter.)
They pestered us to let them out this weekend even though the rain and sleet blew in from the West. Every night Jack and I had to take the torch and squelch through the mud to bring them in. We have a long narrow field that heads down hill by the side of a deep goit. (When I was a child the word goit meant a ditch but round here it is much bigger - a ravine.) Half way down is a Roman wishing well called a Keld and quite a lot of trees. The donkeys, however, decided the most sheltered place was right at the bottom where the stream comes out of the ravine but the field takes a steep dip.

The mud is so deep in places that Jack's wellies get stuck. Of course your legs keep on walking so he ends up taking a very cold step before he realises. I don't use a torch because I like the dark and the moon but Jack takes the biggest torch he can find. This gives shadows and it has taken him two trips before he realises that its best to walk without ... and that the dark is not as scarey afterall!

When Flossy comes up the hill she wanders in zig-zags and knows exactly where it is driest. We tried to lead her but she was adamant and now she leads us. We are always followed by the kitten, Stix. His white paws show up in the dark and his bell can just be heard through the howling wind.