A piper at the gates of the year I went about my various chores, and then sloped down to Lorraine's house for some lemony herby pasta thing, which was slimming and delicious. Chatted to Mark and Beth who have found a person to play the corpse in Wrong in March. Despite feeling sluggish and achy , I decided to head out and damn the torpedoes. Out with Sam and Lorraine to the restaurant Wayne manages. A lovely space inside and is where we are going to stage This concert will fall in love with you again in February. Wayne zooming about hospitably, but Matt ill this evening. We sat for a while with Wayne's family, but it was a little awkward and hard to talk over the music. Then Wayne flagged a taxi and we three repaired to the Basketmakers , where people were singing, dancing and full of cheer. We happened to be on a table next to a kilted Scotsman who soon unleashed his bagpipes to enormous acclaim. I love the wild sound of bagpipes but this being England, one or two weren'
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Beach huts The queasey bug continues, so apart from a walk by the sea, I spent the day reading, dozing and watching Frasiers. A happy but almost entirely uneventful day. Reading Kenneth Rexroth's idiosyncratic translations from the Chinese, and Odysseas Elytis. And, strangely, fantasising about having an office. Below an overcast and comparatively mild day by the sea. Rows of beach huts.
Nice and Queasy L and I have a queasy bug. This is a fantastic way to reduce calories, however, as we only ate dry toast and a bowl of rice. Spent the day nauseously dozing and watching TV, and counting my lucky stars that I had nothing horrid to do. Otherwise I received a surprise package from Joan containing a copy of How Marketing ate Culture for me, and some pink fluffy fingerless gloves for Lorraine, which Calliope attacked immediately with a special viciousness. An item on the news about the 70th anniversary of what was called The second great fire of London, where the East End went up in flames after the attentions of the Luftwaffe. Miraculously St Paul's Cathedral remained standing as an icon of the indomitable spirit of the British Empire etc. etc. As the flames raged my grandmother was enduring a long and painful labour. And my mother, whose birthday it is tomorrow, was born with jaundice and had to be swung through the legs of the doctor to encourage her first breath wh
Gecko in a handbag Up doing a few chores this morning before working on Skelton Yawgrave. Called Ben, who is cat-sitting Mum and Mason's cat Salty, who is apparently in rude health and bringing rodent friends into the house like a feline Fred West. Heard from Joan and Mum in Costa Rica. The intrepid adventurers have now reached the Pacific coast. Joan told me that my mother was "enjoying all the wildlife she can get her hands on. If she comes back with a gecko in her bag don't be surprised." Later heard from Mum that she had been snorkelling. All this a far cry from her hospitalisation just a couple of months ago. Maureen and Pat who came to my house for a cup of tea before leaving for Kent. A quiet afternoon, with Lorraine doing an embroidery and me wasting time trying to fix a computer problem caused by my iTunes. In the evening off to Wayne and Matt's new flat, where we met John and Matt's folks Dave and Anne. Anne displaying her knee, which has recently be
A Spartan horizon Discussing various schemes with Lorraine. Trying to use this holiday hiatus to plot the year ahead. On a non work related note I have set myself a target of losing 20kg in 2011, and I will start this on January 4th with the onset of a completely teetotal month. Feel quite keen to revert to a vegetarian diet too. January is the Monday of the year so I think it's best to cram it full of Spartan stuff. Then off to buy food for Calliope. Sainsbury's a ghost town, and the staff looking bleak. It's so lucky not to be working at something horrid between Christmas and New Year. Instead I worked on poetry for a while before shooting off to meet First Matie and her old pal Nick Moran in a Brighton pub. I last saw Nick in January as he was leaving Brighton for Bristol. Nick, whose birthday it was today, seems to be taking to Bristol like a duck to water and already has got a band together, and a viola playing member of this called Rupert met us briefly in the pub. Ka
One for his knob Home to feed Calliope who, after greeting me with relief for five minutes, exploded into a flurry of bad behavior including her signature shredding the toilet roll, forbidden ferreting inside the airing cupboard and sitting at my desk to bite into my sleeves and shake her head in the vicious way reserved for the slaughter of small rodents. It is hard not to see this as anything other than simple recrimination at my absence. Otherwise as my computer is behaving sluggishly, I spent hours running diagnostics, virus checks, checkdisk , defragging , freeing memory, backing things up up etc. all to no avail. Then I filed bills etc. and noticed how almost everything utility is going up next year. Then I took some some time to brood on the futility of life as an unknown writer. Much improved by returning to Lorraine's house at tea time, eating cold turkey with pickles (including Pat's favourite, pickled walnuts) and bubble and squeak. Cleared the table to play several
Christmas Christmas day. Slightly fitful sleep at Lorraine's house, with squares of bright moonlight falling onto the walls through the velux windows. Up to a slice of toast or two with Lorraine and Pat and Maureen. Still felt incredibly full after last night's meal at Anton and Anna's house. Lorraine made a hasty mackerel pate, and got the turkey in the oven. Then, via a slightly forlorn Calliope, folded Sam into the car and drove off to see Beth at Mark's family. The Gandey family kind and welcoming as usual. Slightly embarrassingly, however, we had forgotten the presents we'd bought for them. Nevertheless Richard plied me with nice cold Guinness for second breakfast. Good to see Mark looking less peaky than when I last saw him suffering from food poisoning. Then back to Lorraine's house, general running about getting things ready. Pausing to open presents. I got a boxed set of Frasier DVDs, a smart fleece, wine glasses from Lorraine, a fascinating new Encyclo
Christmas Eve Legging about this morning, and a bit of final wrapping this afternoon which I enjoyed, despite the best attentions of Calliope who kept rushing at the wrapping paper. Off to St. Nicholas Church a Crib Service, which is a shortened service primarily designed for children. Oskar has one of the many gyps doing the rounds and stayed at home with Brian. Went to Church with Anna, Anton and Klaudia . Anne, Anton's mum was there too, and at the Church we met Lorraine and Maureen and Pat. A nice enough service, with a game of pass the parcel incorporated into a telling of the Christmas Story, with layers of wrapping paper being torn off to reveal different aspects of Jesus. Klaudia caught the ball at one point and went to the front to tear off another layer. She also carried one of the wooden figures and placed it in the Nativity scene, plus carried a candle to the front looking as cute as anything. I absolutely love the symbolism of the Nativity story, and St Nicholas seem
Intrepid Started the day with a bacon and egg sandwich, then was collected by Lorraine and Beth for big shop in Sainsbury's as there were boozes, snacks and Christmas grub to be bought. Later we found ourselves up on the garden centre near the racecourse, this is high above town, and you could see the fields and downs still covered in snow. From there you can see how much Brighton is sheltered by the Downs, especially today when bitter north wind was blowing. A small party run by Lorraine and Dawn was great fun. Lorraine's folks Pat and Maureen arrived today for Christmas. I like tormenting Maureen, who still refuses to believe I had spell at Wormwood Scrubbs before coming to Brighton. Matt and Wayne came with John. Matt absurdly describing me as an attention seeker, and then proceeding to talk the hind legs all available donkeys. Nice to see Wayne who I'd not seen in a while. Jan and Helen and Gareth, and a nice man who used to live opposite Lorraine whose name I'm afr
A box of delights Once Lorraine had returned from the hairdresser with new hairs, and I had done some scraps of work, we had a cup of miso soup to allay heavy colds before plunging into the shopping melee of Brighton. A cold not unpleasantly wraps you up in a kind of cotton wool and we floated about town's heaving masses adriotly dodging a pelt of seagull guano and the persistence of sales folk. Managed to identify a Lorraine present which is a relief. Lorraine out tonight to see Handel's Messiah. And I delighted in a quiet evening on the gold sofa with Calliope snoozing a few inches away, while reading A Box of Delights by John Masefield in between snuffling and hacking. This is my favourite Christmas book of all - as it is very mysterious and you can sense Masefield loving the freedom of writing for children. Later Lorraine just called to say she had been congratulated by Dawn on her ability to sneeze quietly during the concert. Having typed these meagre thoughts I shall dri
Burning of the Clocks The longest night, and so it was The Burning of the Clocks. A very pagan-seeming ritual, but only begun in 1993. A big parade of the clocks and bands of samba drummers, people wearing spooky faces, and on stilts etc. through town culminating in music and pyrotechnics and stunning fireworks on the beach below Madeira Drive. Thousands of people come to watch it, and it is yet another reason I love Brighton so much. Lorraine and I went with Dawn and Cath to watch the parade, and then the fireworks while we sipped hot mulled wine opportunely scored from a stall on the street. When it was all over we repaired to warm ourselves in the Basketmakers where I consumed an enjoyable few beers, and basked in the attentions of three ladies. Otherwise a rich and bubbling cold, which I share with half the people in the UK. Taking care of business this morning, invoicing and some last bits of admin before I shut up shop for the year. Long conversation with Alexandra on the phone d
Through the snowy squares A bad night's sleep, and the alarm going off far too early. Rows of cancellations and delays on the Station's information board. Eventually a train to Victoria arrived and I was able to travel in without being incredibly late. Every person in the train coughing and sneezing, but nice looking out at the white world from the train, and then later walking through the chiaroscuro of snowy London squares. However I was too late and cold to take any photos. A victim of my own speed, I managed to crack the concept I'd been brought in to work on (with a nice Swede called Sven) almost instantly. I am happy to trade a day's pay for not having to commute to London through the snow just before Christmas. After work walked down to Covent Garden, to meet the French clients for a glass of champagne in their small office, as Katharina who I have been dealing with over the last few months is returning to Germany. Alexandra good value as ever, discussing busine
Sunday stuff Invited up to London to do a couple of days work, which I have perhaps foolishly accepted. Later in the day also contacted by my French clients about some work soon too. Strange when the business stuff happens on Sunday after a quiet week. Lorraine and I to her place this afternoon where I briefly rolled up my sleeves for manwork. I fixed her toilet cistern after tampering with ball cocks and employing a shaved cork to exemplary effect. Also surveyed the baby guppies. Then read Kenneth Rexroth's translations of Tu Fu (aka Du Fu) which I am finding wonderful. Out with Anton this evening. Called around at his house where he had been cleaning records and played me a couple of tracks by the The 5th Dimension . An enjoyable evening with Anton sliding out over the ice for a couple of beers and pausing to eat some ribs. A nice night. Anton talking about wanting an immense valve amplifier among other things.
Dickensian day I felt very Christmassy and happy all day. Lorraine and I woke up to snow, then hailstones snicking the windows before remaining in unmelted icy piles. This followed by rain and a clear freezing day and perfect for mooching about in the North Laine area. Seemed Brighton was the only place in the UK not under snowed under. Mum and Mase were so lucky their flight left the day it did. Lorraine, Beth and I wandered about buying a few more bits of presents, and stopping for a hobbit's second breakfast in Capers Cafe, where Beth had done recent show. Soon found ourselves sitting next to Brighton's first Green Party MP, Caroline Lucas and her family. An enjoyable bout of shopping and hanging out, before I broke away to drop into the maelstrom of Sainsbury's for some food shopping. In the evening off to see The Rainbow Chorus perform their Christmas show, as well as an entertaining production they'd devised called A Dickens of a Christmas, loosely based on A Chr
The uselessness of letters Some snow this morning. Struggling with words today. With both a long poem Atlantis and on my substantial edit of Skelton Yawngrave intermittently through the day, both at a stage where careful thought is needed and in the case of Skelton Yawngrave this is slightly nerve-racking. The text is coming out the other end of this process is far cleaner and the plot is much faster. Calliope is bored by bad weather and is indoors more and constantly bringing her catnip mouse and rubber ball into my study and thundering about with them, or jumping up at my keyboard to rub her chops on my face at critical moments. The only respite was a violent screeching fight with another cat. Amazing to see her rocket to the top of a wall and beat the intruder like a ginger stepchild. She smugly returned from her battle completely unharmed. I've never seen a scratch on her. Otherwise I finished listening to Dark Matter by Michelle Paver (which I would heartily recommend), wh
Restraint Amazing how many beer bottles seven music loving gents can gargle through of an evening. Staring at them reinforced the urgent request from the liver and kidney dept. to focus on tea and mineral water. Self-restraint is a beautiful thing. Actually I felt as if I were on holiday today. I finalised bookings for Guernsey Literary Festival, and otherwise left the outside world to its own devices, which were mainly of the steady rain turning to snow variety. Chatted to Anton as there is a tense meeting between Manchester United and Chelsea this weekend which we will watch together. And to Mum and Mas who tomorrow set off on the first leg of their journey to Costa Rica. There in the sunshine they are going to meet up Joan and Dick, and Toby and Romy. Have almost finished listening to the audiobook of the creepy Dark Matter by Michelle Paver, which is something of a tour de force as a good old-fashioned ghost story. I have been listening to it alone, which as the creepy stuff happ
Music and MRI Hungover (which I blame on Bob). In the afternoon off to get an MRI scan of my knee. Twenty minutes with my knee in a clamp looking up at the word SEIMENS while having soft rock played through the ear defenders. Afterwards the radiologist showed me his images. Odd to see your own bone, cartilage, muscle, blood vessels and so on. We are meat machines. Home and tidied up the place in preparation for Music Club. The first rule of Music Club is you do not talk about Music Club. But this time I'll make an exception. A well-attended inaugural night, with Anton, Fingers, Richard, Steve, Dipak and Matt who arrived late and in his cups after a meeting. Some wonderful eclectic choices from people passionate about their music - all kinds of extraordinary sounds amid enthusiastic drinking of speciality beers. Richard also sang two more of his excellent Shakespeare sonnets. The evening generally considered a success and will be repeated at someone-else's place. Calliope, who
In the Cittie Another night full of vivid dreams, and then up craving for a damn fine cup of Joe, once this and toast needs sated burned the Armenian flute music on Mum's laptop to take home, and Mum and I travelled into town on separate missions, saying goodbye at Baker Street. I went off to Tavistock Square and had a lunchtime beer with Pat and Karam. A good gossip and lots of laughs. Pat going into a school next year too, to talk about advertising to 16 year olds. Then a pleasant couple of hours wandering about in London free as a bird, pausing for a bite to eat and a browse in Foyles bookshop before making my way to meet Mick Ginty in Ye Old Mitre pub dating back to 1546. Satisfying to sit there in a busy, wood panelled room near and a portrait of Henry VIII and a real fire. One of those timeless London moments. Mick talking about the arrival of The Gintini , his and Lucy's baby due in about six weeks. Bob arrived and after an overlap, Mick left. Bob and I then proceeded o
London calling After a much-needed haircut, up on the train to the smoke today leaving Calliope scowling unhappily at a battery-powered automatic feeder. First task was to drink a festive beer or two with Keith, from the Glamoursmith agency I sometimes work with. Really nice chat in The Distiller's pub. He was telling me about his twin girls who, at three, are already giving him unsolicited advice on clothes, including referring to his smart new beanie as "the funny hat". Also learned that a concept we'd worked on together had been the foundation for a successful campaign. Then on to Edgware to hang with Mum and Mase, who are girding their loins to fly off to Costa Rica to meet Toby, Romy, Joan and Dick. They are stopping off in Houston first and meeting an old pal of Mason's who is driving 1000 miles to be there. In the evening to the local Harvester where I ate a satisfying combo platter of ribs and chicken parts. Mas and Mum talking about bizarre people they ha
Over the farm gate Unbelievable passage of dreams all night long. I can't remember the last time I woke up with what seemed like six full length dream movies in my head. Some of them involved being in Australia and New Zealand (places I have never been), others involved flying in biplanes and hot air balloons, in another I was walking on the edge of a tropical sea. Once awake, and finding myself in Brighton, planned Christmas dinner this morning with Lorraine and Beth discussing various things that can be baked. We three off for a drive in the country stopping off at a farm not far from Chanctonbury Ring to order a free range Bronze turkey. Then to a vintners to buy some wines and beers for forthcoming parties and Christmas itself. Then to shops to buy decorations for Lorraine's house. An afternoon pottering about, watching TV and offering a quantity of helpful advice to Lorraine as she put things up, and hung the tree with Beth. Then home quietly to sort myself out for the wee
Shopping Shopping today and into a few toy stores to look for presents for Oskar and Klaudia. Luckily I had Lorraine with me who was able to step in before I re-enacted The Shining in the aisles of a toyshop after walking around the shop 12 times seeking a Jolly Octopus . There are some shops at this time of year I find almost impossible, I am always in the way of the sparrowy folk who can actually flit about in them. I did manage to aquire a nice reading lamp in Habitat , but shops full of women's trinkets and baubels such as Accessorize simply do not enough space for a men to enter them without barging into carousels of cheap earrings and silk effect scarves. A couple of hours of this, and home for a cup of tea and to discuss, at some length, with Lorraine the best way of assembling floor standing angle-poised reading lights. She will persist in reading the instructions. Then off to our usual curry house, which we'd not been to for a while. Sat next to a couple rowing sotto
Shake a tailfeather Pressing on with Skelton Yawngrave today with all the energy of a limp rag. I have, however, a good feeling about the changes I am making. Island Ink arrived from Guernsey, which had my short interview, the text of which can be found in my daywork blog . After work off to meet Matt for a quick catch up in the Basketmakers. Plenty to discuss as usual. He is pressing on with the doppelganger music, and we are definitely staging This concert will fall in love with you again around Valentine's day. We'd be mad not to. Then I was collected by Lorraine and we went to Capers Cafe where Beth and Mark, plus their pals Kayleigh and Amy were putting on a show of Motown songs. The audience was family and friends - Mark's family, Richard and Glenda, and Mark's brother David were of course the first to be up dancing. Cath and Dawn were also there, and we had a snack and some wine and the whole thing turned out to be a very good laugh. They all sang well, but Bet
Unrest Some French work first thing, then struggling with major decisions on Skelton Yawngrave, deciding that the story must be told in the third person, rather than by Skelton. Converting it from first to doesn't seem to be too tricky, and I worked steadily through two chapters and it seems to be working. This decision throws one or two babies out with the bathwater, but also allows new ones to bob up. The new version seems darker and more dramatic. A noisy student protest starting at the station. I saw a small group of students, all looking rather small and young. Oppressive atmosphere crackling with tension, ramped up by the disproportionate police presence. The students are protesting about having University fees trebled, among other things, and have got a good case. At the weekend some were supergluing themselves to the windows of TopShop and Vodaphone - allegedly owned by tax-avoiding plutocrats. Meanwhile up in London interesting to observe the speed with which this new gove
Shakespeare by stealth Very happy to hear Mum's recent tests are all clear again. Chatted to her and Mason. Pleased to say that I am getting over my man cold, and got on with stuff, including phoning David at the Marlborough Theatre to discuss Wrong. In the evening, by coincidence, off to the bard downstairs at the Marlborough to see Richard Gibson and his pal Dipak play four of the Shakespeare's sonnets he has put to music. Richard has a policy of not mentioning that his lyricist is the Bard for reasons best known to himself. But they were well played and rather good. However in the pub environment they were essentially just background music, which was a shame. As soon as he was done Richard wanted to leave, so we abandoned Dipak and popped into the Evening Star after walking across town for a chat about it all. Interesting. Below Richard (left) and Dipak at their stealthy business.
Plan B Plan A was going to go up to London to schmooze and see pals, but I biffed this as I was feeling ropey. Instead, once I'd cleared the regurgitated cat biscuits from my study chair, worked on restructuring Skelton Yawngrave. The child character Grace is now the conduit through which you encounter all the others. It is the obvious way to do it, of course, and I was resisting it for this reason. But I find the story feels far more rooted this way. Co-incidentally I got a note from Catriona about the three sessions I will be running for children in the Guernsey Literary festival on Friday 13th May, which is focusing my mind somewhat. Also a note from Matt getting the ball rolling on a new performance of This Concert will fall in love with you , on the day before Valentine's Day. Otherwise listening to Dark Matter by Michelle Paver. This is a truly gripping story, subtly disconcerting, and a properly constructed ghost story set in the Arctic. Lovely stuff.
Knee business X-rayed this morning. Had to roll up one trouser leg like a mason and stand in front of a metal plate. The x-ray machine made three musical notes while it was at its business. Then to another room to have my knee examined by a doctor and a trainee doctor. This lead to expert knee waggling interspersed with inexpert knee waggling, and a good deal of poking and flexing. Next step is an MRI scan, and perhaps an arthroscopy. Was told it is likely I will need a knee replacement when I am older. I have seen the future and the future is Borg. Walked home by the sea, the street still frosty but the day bright blue. Home and working a little on the Skelton Yawngrave stuff. Coughing and washed out this afternoon. Watched the last episode of The Trip. I find it hard to say why I liked this so much. I like comedy when it is mixed with sadness, and stuff like the below just has to be largely improvised. Below a scene from The Trip .
Christmas commences Awake most of the night. Got up and read for a couple of hours before returning to bed. Was reading Richard's poems in A Guernsey Double again, they give me pleasure every time I do so. Received our third Amazon Purchase Order of the week this evening. Slowly but surely the book is selling beyond Guernsey. In the morning worked for an hour on my new Atlantis poem, while Lorraine snoozed the snooze of the virtuous. Then I ambled about reassembling my artificial Christmas tree with multicoloured lights and cat-enticing tinsel and baubles. Calliope squirming into boxes and leaping at the tree with wild-eyed delight. Sometimes my eyes greedily suck at a certain colour. When I worked at IBM at South Bank I craved the bright red in an abstract painting in the beige carpeted concrete stairwell. I would have to stop some days and drink in its redness, despite not liking the picture much. Now I'm hooked on the blue Christmas lights in North Street in Brighton, and t
Altogethery Snow melted away and replaced by steady rain. After a late breakfast, off to the gym and feeling rather virtuous as I lumbered about. Spent a little time working on the Atlantis poem in the afternoon, after talking to Richard and remembering I was a poet. Otherwise disinclined to do much. Then to The Basketmakers (to undo the morning's virtue) and a haven of good cheer in the rainy drear, with Matt, Lorraine, Sam, Beth and Mark. Matt has begun work on the doppelganger piece, and would have simply stormed home to continue it if it were not for the boozy comfort of the pub. He has been rethinking the instrumentation, and is now toying with a sextet - flute, clarinet, percussion, violin, viola and cello, plus the singers. Sam on good form, reading H.P. Lovecraft amid his studies. An altogethery feel, and randomly roping in strangers to talk to us. Home. Wrong-headedly devoured chocolate coins, then bed. But not before watching Chelsea play wretchedly again on Match of the
This is the video banned by YouTube.... Matt Whistler's Merry Christmas 2010 Southover Street Brighton from Convict Films on Vimeo . And this is his latest release. The man is a genius, and quite a good warts and all view of Brighton in the snow too.... Surfin' Bird Christmas No.1 2010 starring Matt Whistler from Convict Films on Vimeo .
Displacements A very enjoyable day, but not one in which much work happened. Trekked late from Lorraine's house to my own, and started work at a reprehensible 9:20. Glad I'd taken my hiking pole with a jabby end, as the streets are treacherously icy, climbing up hills coated with thick ice not a happy experience for generously proportioned gentleman with a high centre of gravity. A long and enjoyable chat on the theme of island madness with Richard this morning, then after several displacements, off at lunchtime to walk gingerly up to see Janet and Ken, to drop off some milk (as they'd sensibly avoided the icy streets) and their copy of A Guernsey Double , and Ken gave me a copy of his new translation Letters to Madame The Marchioness of P * * * * on Opera . (Attributed to the Abbe Gabriel Bonnnot de Mably 1709 - 1785). We also had a nice cup of tea, where I was shown a portrait of Rossi , their ginger cat. Then home. Mum called me just after I stepped into the door, h
Snow Snow had worked its silent ministry overnight, and was over six inches thick. Lorraine returned home and I chatted to my neighbour Alex, happily trapped at home by the closure of train routes. Gatwick airport has been for the last couple of days. The Downs, which separate Brighton from the rest of the country have protected us from the worst of the weather, with people snowed into their homes just a few miles inland. Calliope pussyfooting around in the snow as I chatted to Alex, but mostly she is reluctant to venture into the cold. Bored, she is constantly treading on my keyboard, or trying to stand on desk with her front paws on my shoulder or leaping from the windowsill onto my back and biting me in unprovoked ways, howling disconsolately when I ignore her and generally making work an uphill struggle. I am compelled to regularly take her downstairs and play football with an artificial mouse to expend some of her energy. Otherwise a disorganised morning's work and then, feeli
Songs and snowfall A little more snow this morning, and fine one flake at a time snow fell most of the day. I sealed myself indoors working again on Skelton Yawngrave and other bits and pieces. In the evening yomped across town to Kemptown to St Mary's church for the World Aids Day concert, where I met Lorraine. Vast high roofed church I'd not been in before, which was surprisingly warm inside. It featured The Brighton Gay Men's Chorus, Hullabaloo, which Lorraine used to sing with and was chatting to lots of its members, and Rainbow Chorus, which is Matt's choir. Also was a lovely soprano called Red Gray, accompanied by Fingers Capra plus Qukulele a lively singing and ukulele band. Fascinating to see the different styles of the conductors, and choirs. Kirsty has a lovely and highly expressive way of leading her choir. The young conductor of the Gay Men's Chorus very fluid in his movements and a twinkling personality, and Matt, talking to the audience in an assured