All Dressed in Yellow

I had such an amazing time at the Fiddlers˚ Bid concert last night! I had seen three of the band members play in separate groups that week, as well as having had Andrew as an instructor, and had high expectations of what it would be like to see them all play together. Dangerous, especially when you haul a new friend with you to go see them. They did NOT disappoint! Wow! All that energy! I love it when you can feel the music go all the way through you. From vibrations up through the soles of your feet, through your chest, and through your soul. They were obviously having a blast playing together. Touring must get expensive going through all that horse hair though.

I was so pumped leaving there that I couldn't sleep most of the night. THAT's what I want to experience when I play.

Hearing the music I experienced on the Shetland Islands brought back many fond memories of my trip up there this summer. It was also a treat briefly running into a couple people that I had met at Fiddle Frenzy. Some people had traveled quite a distance to get to Birmingham that night. It was held in a smaller community's parish hall. Even THAT brought back memories of the evenings we spent out of town, listening to a concert, clearing away the chairs, and dancing the night away. I had SUCH a hard time staying in my seat last night. I could have listened to the stories and the music all night long. Three hours were NOT enough!

It's hard to describe this link I now feel with the Shetlands. It's almost as if I'm experiencing homesickness for a place that is not my home. The people were so friendly and welcoming, and the landscape unforgettable. Everything about it was unique, and yet homey in a way that melds with your heart.

Heeland coos

I just learned something fascinating! Do you know why highland cows are red? Apparently there used to be a mix of black cows and red cows. Queen Victoria visited Scotland, and being the influential lady that she was, made a passing comment while looking out on a field of mixed cows about the black cows looking a bit sinister. So they bred for red cows. The things you learn on a coach.

Busy, busy, busy

I must be doing something right, because suddenly I'm in high demand! I still feel a bit like I'm on stage, pretending to be someone that I'm not... I feel like I'm waiting for "them" (kids? headteachers?) to see through me. However, my initial impression of the British school system has been much tempered. Teachers here care just as much about their students as back home, and the general goals are still the same. I suppose that  sending me into the lions den to experience the worst has helped me appreciate the rest. It's still no walk in the park, but it's now a challenge I'm willing and ready to rise to.

Being placed in a classroom for a whole week has been a nice transition. It gave me a chance to not only get to know the students and the curriculum, but it takes away the harried feel of trying to figure out the school schedules and routines, and more importantly, it allowed me to connect with staff members (an INVALUABLE resource.)

Last week I covered a Year 1 class. Which still makes me laugh. I swore back in Canada that I would NEVER... EVER teach Kindergarten (Year 1 here... which is actually their third year of schooling). I had a whole list of reasons as to why I couldn't. All I can say is that it's an excellent thing that I've met God, and that He's already been stretching me and teaching me that all things are possible. The school seems to like me, because yesterday they called TimePlan and requested me for all next week.

This week I was covering a Year 5 class. I really enjoyed getting a glimpse into their curriculum. I learned all sorts of new things about the lives of Victorian children, and the roots of the Bernard foundation. I also learned to check that all uniform shirts were tucked in every time we lined up for class. The school has a new headteacher, who always seems to be going full-steam ahead, and is on top of everything. I admire him, and wonder what makes him tick, but boy does he intimidate me. However, they seem to like me there as well, because before I left today, they booked me for the whole week after we get back from half-term break.

Which means, I know exactly what I'm doing for the next three weeks! No uncertainty, no getting up at 6am so that I can make the 7am phone call into the TimePlan office, no new school discipline systems/schedules/routines to learn. Life is good!

I can admit when I'm wrong... really I can...

I just had a most excellent evening. Which is a bit ironic, since my plan going into it was to use the evening as the final proof for why I'm not going back after half-term break. You see, I'm spending 3 hours in transit for a 2 hour group fiddle lesson (really only 1.5 since we have a 30 min break in the middle). I would be willing to do the traveling if I were getting something out of it. The major issue is that it seems as if everyone else in the group has been playing for, oh, say 20 years? If I'm not in tip top shape going into it, I leave frustrated, short-tempered, and not wanting to pick up my violin for the next week. In fact, I left at break time last week because I could barely hold back the tears, and I recognized that a full night's sleep would do me more good than beating my head against a brick wall.

Tonight we learned Spoot o' Skeery, a tune that I heard on the Shetland Islands at least 5 times a night. I'm sure that being familiar with the tune helped a lot, but the instructor also slowed down and broke up the tune a bit more in his teaching. It was soooo encouraging to not only feel like I was actually walking away with a full tune, but also knowing that I now have one more tune in my repertoire that I can use next summer when I go back to the Shetlands. Slow session, here I come!

Speaking of jam sessions, we spent the last half hour of class doing a review/session. No one would volunteer to start off with a tune, which is completely ridiculous considering how GOOD they are, and have such great tunes to share. I'm getting a little sick of being intimidated (they're not the friendliest and most welcoming bunch), so I volunteered to start. I played a slower, haunting tune called Sigurd o' Gord. Legend has it that it was taught to a man who was whisked away by the Trows for a hundred years. When he was returned to his town, all of his loved ones having passed on, he went out and played this tune as the sun fell. As the last rays disappeared, and the last strains of the melody floated on the wind, he slowly turned to dust. I don't know what I like more, the tunes themselves, or the stories attached to them.

Obviously I stumbled over a few parts in the middle, but everyone seemed a little more willing to volunteer after that. AND I may have made a friend... she's been hiding in the back, being a beginner like me, and having the same frustrations. When I say "beginner", let me qualify that by saying that she plays several other string instruments and the piano, but has only been playing the violin since last Christmas. I'll take what I can.

Hoser the turkey

The pumpkin was a huge success. I was actually very surprised at just how much of a success it was. We had 17 people at the house for Thanksgiving dinner: 14 Canadians, 2 Irish, and 1 English (though he is very insistent that he is Cornish, not English).

It was an amazing evening of everyone pulling together and being the family that we left behind. The house was cleaned, a plethora of dishes were served, the ambiance was cozy, and the company buoyant.

I took some photos, and will post them tomorrow after the turkey coma wears off.

Jared actually went to a free range turkey farm and picked it out by the way. Then stayed up until 2am making special herbed butter that he massaged under the skin, got up at 6am, covered the bird in bacon, and baked it to juicy perfection. This is what I mean about our "landlord" going above and beyond the call of duty. For which I am very thankful.

Die Pumpkin Die

We scoured town for a pumpkin pie, but none was to be found. The worker looked at me like I was crazy, and actually SNICKERED when I asked if they had a can of pumpkin puree. However, the good news is, even if they don't celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving, England, like North America, starts advertising for other holidays long before their arrival. Found a pumpkin.

Now I stand glaring at the pumpkin, sitting innocently on the counter, wondering how I'm going to turn it into a pie. Without a food processor.

Dedicated to "Alejandro", the art teacher in the house. Who had the nerve to tell me that my masterpiece was "cute". Psha.

Yes, this is how I entertain myself on a Saturday night in London. Or close enough to London.

Off to the races

I went to watch my housemate and a friend race cars last night. From the way "Jared" (I've decided to start using code names on here, to protect the genius identities of my friends) described it, I was expecting deep throated, powerful machines. He was scaring "Graham" with instructions as to what to do in case the engine, nestled between your thighs, burst into flames after a high-impact crash. Now picture grown men in go-carts pretending that they're in the Indy 500. Uhuh.

I know... terrible shot, but I only had my iPhone with me. Squint.

But they take it seriously, and it turned out to be fun. Cold and windy, but fun. There's also this amazing, high-end Japanese restaurant next door. I think that should be a House Saturday plan someday soon... An afternoon at the track, topped off with a mouth watering meal. Winner eats free.