Ross coming home

If the strike by customs officers hasn’t caused too much disruption, Ross will hopefully be stepping on a plane in Lanzarote to head for home. A friend asked me last night if he'll have done much in the way of running while he was on holiday. I explained that Club La Santa’s a specialised resort that’s geared around sport so, yes, Ross will have been doing a bit of running while he was there.

That’s actually a slight understatement. Ross’s activities during the first week of his fortnight’s holiday (Coach, look away now!) consisted of:

Day one:  Wee 5 mile off-road run in the morning. Tennis. Badminton. 9 mile run up in the hills in the evening. 

Day two: 7.5 mile morning run. Squash. Competed in 5km road race in the evening.

Day three: Morning 10 mile training run round the track. Track session (4 x 300m, 8 x 150m, 4 x 200m) before dinner.

Day four: Competed in Duathlon in the morning (2.5km run, 14.8km on the bike, 2.5km run) then competed in Aquathlon in the afternoon (200m swim then 3km run).

Day five: Competed in half marathon race before breakfast. Track session (12 x 200m) in the afternoon.

Day six: Competed in Mini-triathlon in the morning (400m swim, 15.2km bike, 4.4km run), 7.5 mile off-road run in the evening.

He’ll also have squeezed in some sunbathing, swimming, clubbing, lots of eating and plenty of carbo-loading (Coach, look away now) with beer - and week two will have been filled with much of the same.

I’m delighted that Ross has had a great time on holiday with his pals – but I’ve missed him being around and I can’t wait to have him back home. And, I'm especially looking forward to hearing all about that little bit of running he managed to do while he was away...

Being with my soul mate

Alex and I got married when we were 23 years old – 23 years ago today! We had to settle for a Tuesday as weekend wedding slots at Glasgow University were booked ahead for 5 years solid so, since we couldn’t wait that long for the party, Tuesday the 28^th of June 1988 it would have to be!

It was a lovely sunny day. Anyone who remembers the Glasgow Garden Festival will remember how glorious the weather was for most of that summer. Neither of us were, or are, religious in any way, shape or form, but we (fairly hypocritically, I admit) kept the parents smiling by introducing a wee bit of Church of Scotland in to the proceedings: it wasn’t much of a hardship to get married in the stunning University Chapel and my mum’s minister was totally OK with my request for as little religion in the ceremony as possible! I think we had a wee prayer at one point, but that was about it - even our vows were pretty personal and didn’t really have any kind of higher being intruding upon them!

We had a brilliant time. I’ve got such happy memories of the whole day and night, but my favourite moment was the one when just me and Alex were escorted out to the majestic Quad in the heart of the Uni for some photos of just the two of us. While the photographer was sorting out his gear, it was the only time throughout the whole day and evening that Alex and I were completely on our own. The look, the hug, the kiss and the ‘I love you SO much’ were the same then as they’d been the first time back when we were 15 - and they haven’t changed much in the 23 years since (apart from looking at a fair few more wrinkles round the eyes...!). He’s my soul mate, my best mate and the only serious boyfriend I’ve ever had and ever want to have.

Happy Anniversary Alex – I love you SO much!

(this is instead of a card by the way...!)

Take That!

A friend recently said that if Take That were playing in her front garden she would draw the blinds and turn up the telly! I would’ve agreed with her up until a few years ago when I – along with thousands of others - became a Take That convert.

When the group reformed in 2005, I was amongst the cynics who thought this bunch of old dogs would regurgitate their old tricks and, therefore, not appeal to the likes of me. I didn’t like them first time around and couldn’t understand the mass hysteria that followed the departure of Robbie Williams and subsequent break-up of this manufactured boy band. However, many moons later and here I am, knackered but happy, after jumping up and down in amongst a crowd of 50,000 other folk at the Take That concert in Hampden last night.

It didn’t quite match the stage show of their last tour back in 2009, but it was still a brilliant night’s entertainment. And, I felt quite with it when I did the phone thing. You know the thing I mean? You raise your phone in the air either to take photos or videos of the heads of the folk in front of you, or you raise your phone in the air after having phoned someone to let them hear what they’re missing (which is usually all the folk standing beside you that are singing loudly and out of key), or you raise your phone in the air for no other reason than because everyone else is doing it.

First, I phoned Ross when ‘Hold Up A Light For Me’ came on as it’s one of ‘our’ songs. When we were at the last Take That concert (as a family), Ross and I jumped the whole way through that track – so, it was nice to think he was there with me while I was jumping through it this time around. Next, I phoned Gemma during ‘Shine’. Gemma had bought me the tickets for the concert as a special Christmas gift. We were supposed to be going together, but her job down south for the summer put paid to that. I took my pal Elaine instead and we had a fantastic time together. We made a couple of days of it by staying away overnight and we blethered non-stop (except during the songs of course) from the minute we left home till the minute we returned. Elaine and I usually catch up over lunch, but lunches are so inadequate time-wise when you’ve got so much to talk about, so a two-day blether-athon was ideal! There were obviously a few poignant moments as I would’ve loved Gemma to have been there with me too. She’s always reaching for the stars, so having her join me during ‘Shine’ seemed the most apt choice. Then, I phoned Gordon.  ‘Angels’ is one of our choir songs and we both love belting it out so I thought it would be great to have him there to harmonise with Robbie and me! However, disaster struck: ‘Call failed’ flashed up on my phone screen. I tried a few times then had to give up and make do with singing along with the rest of the 50,000 word-perfect crowd. Unfortunately, my lower harmony part was somewhat lost on them.  Lastly, I phoned home during ‘The Flood’. The song doesn’t have any significance; I just didn’t want Alex to feel left out of the phoning thingy.

So, I had a brilliant time: I’m a Take That fan and proud of it – and here’s a couple of fuzzy pictures of some phones and some heads to prove it...!




'Hold up a phone for me..'



Elaine and me, taken, of course, by phone.



 



Remembering my favourite rendition of Morning Has Broken

Me and the M9 have been seeing a lot of each other over past few months. It’s the road that I take to college in Edinburgh, to Falkirk for the voluntary work I do and to Denny (albeit only for a short distance) on the days I’m helping out at the hospice. Most of the time I get on well with the M9 -  especially when I’m not sharing it with too many other drivers - but, on days like today when it’s bucketing down and busy, it’s not such a pleasant place to be.

It’s not the road itself that’s the problem, it's the bloody numpties that are driving on it! What is it with folk that don’t put their lights on when they’re aqua-gliding along the motorway in torrential rain? When they go to overtake and look in their wing mirror, do they not think, ‘Jesus, I nearly didn’t see that car there. I nearly hit it when I pulled out. What an idiot he is driving up behind me in this weather with no lights on. Oh, wait a minute. I haven’t got my lights on either. Better put them on. Hm, I did wonder why most folk in front of me, behind me and coming in the other direction had their lights on...’. I just don’t get it. Why are some folk reluctant to put their lights on? Do they think it’s annoying to other drivers? Do they think, ‘I can see so I don’t need my lights on’ – don’t they get it that lights are also there so that they can BE seen.

Then, there are those ridiculous big signs across the road with their stupid messages: ‘Be a considerate driver’ ‘Soft tyres waste fuel’ ‘Save money by car sharing’ – how about ‘SAVE LIVES BY NOT BEING AN EEJIT. YOU COULD START BY SWITCHING YOUR LIGHTS ON!’ As you’ve probably gathered, it wasn’t the most pleasant of drives through to college this morning.

All that said, I obviously did make it there and back in one piece. I can’t imagine how awful it must be for the families of those people who aren’t so lucky on our roads. I have a really vivid memory of getting ready for my weekend job one morning when I was about 17 and being interrupted by my mum coming in to tell me the shocking news that a friend had been killed in a car accident. Eleanor was a beautiful girl, slightly older than me, and had the most amazing smile along with the most incredible singing voice. Her sister, Louise, was in my year at school, and, although we were sometimes part of the same social group, we weren’t all that close. I’d known the Roddicks for years as they lived fairly nearby – but not near enough for them to be ‘from ma bit’! You know how you had that at school; folk that you knew in your year and you got on well with, but you didn’t really see that much of out of school? That was kind of what it was like with me and Louise. It’s been nice recently to make a connection again through Facebook – we, along with some other old school friends, have been having a laugh - and sometimes a cry - over some old photos that we’ve all been digging out and posting for everyone to share. Louise was keen to find any old photographs of her big sister, and I was more than happy to oblige with the few that I had.

My fondest memory of Eleanor is her gorgeous rendition of ‘Morning Has Broken’ and I always think of her when I hear it. She sang it in a show that was written specially for our drama group called ‘Alphapop’. Basically, we started at ‘A’ and sang our way through the alphabet, finishing with ‘Zipidee Doo Dah’! I remember me and my pal Caroline being chuffed to bits as we opened the show by acting out the letter ‘A’ in ‘The Alphabet Love Song’ – you know the one; ‘A you’re adorable, B you’re so beautiful. C you’re a cutie full of chaaaarms’ etc. Anyway, I’m digressing, Eleanor sang Morning Has Broken for the letter ‘M’ and she just sang it so beautifully. She sang a fair few other solos in other shows, and I remember she played the lead female role in ‘The Music Man’. In fact, that part underlined just how promising a young actress Eleanor was; she had to kiss a leading man who had, unfortunately, not been too far up the queue when the good looks and normal lips were being divvied out. Eleanor successfully managed, every night of the run, to fool  the audience into thinking she really was in love with the guy. We all felt her pain!

I’ve checked with Louise that it’s OK to write about her sister (as I often do when touching on more personal issues). She assured me that the family love to hear of other people’s memories and stories as they help to, in Louise’s words, ‘bring Eleanor back for a wee bit’.  I remember feeling awkward as a teenager, not really knowing what to say to Louise after Eleanor had died. So, to my shame, I think I said nothing. It’s nice to be able now, with the experience and knowledge that adulthood brings, to reach out with my memories and hopefully bring a little bit of her lovely sister back - even if it is just for a wee, way too short, moment or two.

Being at the Scribblers Picnic

Nowadays, the words ‘Music Festival’ are most synonymous with the likes of

T in the Park, Reading and Rock Ness.  Gatherings of tens of thousands of folk - in big, muddy fields – who’ve enjoyed a fair few cans of beer, to watch, and sing along to, some of the biggest names in music. Gemma and Ross both assure me that camping in said big muddy fields is brilliant fun and that the discomfort and mankiness of it all is a small price to pay for the fantastic atmosphere, brilliant music and camaraderie of the festival. I love live music – but I also like my home comforts, so I’ve never fancied any of these big festivals. Unless Freddie Mercury rose from the grave to play at Glastonbury, I don’t imagine I ever will!

Music festivals, originally, were small events held to showcase talent in the local community, and some were organised to raise funds for local community projects or people in need. Yesterday, in my home town of Stirling, I had the absolute pleasure of performing with the choir at a festival that does exactly that. The Scribblers Picnic is a relatively new event; the first one was organised ten years ago in memory of local journalist (‘the Scribbler’), teacher and talented musician Graham Whitelaw who died of cancer in 2001. The event’s profile has grown during the past decade, but it has never lost sight of its original purpose; to remember a popular local musician by celebrating the diversity of local musical talent, providing the whole family with some fun, and raising a whole load of dosh for local charities in the process.

At yesterday's event, the choir performed on the main stage before a whole host of other local acts. The crowds weren’t massive and the stage wasn’t huge – but, boy, did it feel good to be standing shoulder to shoulder with my choir buddies singing in my first home town gig - especially when it was to support a load of worthwhile local causes! To make it even more special for me, Alex was there to support us. It’s the first time he’s heard the choir and I’d swear the big softie had a wee tear in his eye! It totally made my day that he’d enjoyed it so much and it was great to introduce him to some of the friends that I’ve been spending the past umpteen Monday evenings with. It’s always been the case (and always will be the case) that things - even things that I thoroughly enjoy as they are - are made even better if Alex’s a part of them.

It was an ideal day to be busy. I was a wee bit sad that, for the third year in a row, Gemma was away from home for her birthday (virtual birthday hugs just aren’t the same!) and I was a wee bit sad as it was Father’s Day. However, it was lovely to soak up the atmosphere with a few beers (or a fair few in Alex’s case!) while watching some of the other acts and having a donner around the stalls before leaving for home.

Nope, the Picnic wasn’t quite Glastonbury - there were no famous headline acts, no inflated ticket prices and no drunk people peeing in bottles - but it was a music festival in every other way. And it was definitely my favourite kind!

A well-deserved surprise

There’s something really special about arranging a surprise. Keeping the secret, doing the organising then seeing the reaction of the person you’ve organised the surprise for can be such a rewarding and enriching experience. Tonight I was privileged, along with a fantastic group of friends, to learn of an amazing surprise that has been arranged for a very special person by a very special person. I’m champing at the bit to shout about it, as it’s something just a tad out of the ordinary, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to share any details here. Not at the moment anyway.

So, why am I mentioning it at all? Well, it was just one of those really emotional and pretty unique moments that come along once in a while to remind us how brilliant life can be at times – even in the face of adversity. The people involved tonight have had some pretty harrowing stuff to cope with, but, they pull together, manage to get on with it - and enhance the lives of a whole load of people round about them while they’re at it. It was just fantastic to see them so happy, and so justly rewarded for the positive contribution they make to the lives of many other folk.

It was all a brilliant reminder of the fact that when life gives you a hundred reasons to cry, you should show life that you have a thousand reasons to smile. And that - amongst many other things - is what made me feel really good today.

See some folk

The flight I was on this morning from Gatwick to Edinburgh cost £30 and it took just over an hour to fly from one city to the other. Yesterday, it took just over 7 hours to get from Stirling to London and it cost roughly £70 in petrol. OK, so there were two of us in the car, which means that cost-wise it was eachy-peachy but, I had so much more fun sitting in the car with my daughter than I did sitting on a plane beside a wifey who’d never heard of arm-rest etiquette!! And, what is it with these folk that go and stand in the queue at the gate before the staff have even announced boarding? I can understand it when it’s a family or a group of friends that want to stick together, but nearly every person standing like a numpty in the queue this morning was on their own. And they literally pushed past people to get to the line - then stood looking down on all of us sitting on the seats around them, ‘Ha ha, look at me, I’m going to get the window seat!’ you could almost hear them saying. However, what they didn’t realise was that a couple of big buses were coming to take us all to the plane and that when the buses arrived at the plane they were going to open all their doors at once and that everyone was going to pile out together. Those of us that had sat for the longest in the terminal were last on to the bus, and therefore first off.  I’ve never felt so good about sitting down on a seat next to the window in a plane! Sometimes it’s the silliest little unexpected gems in a day that can make us feel great. Having said that, my pleasure was short-lived when it was spoiled by a wee wifey on a big mission to break all the rules regarding aeroplane arm-rests...! See some folk...!

Going on a road trip

I’m off on a road trip today with Gemma. It's been great having her home for the last few weeks since Uni finished, but she’s been accepted for a twelve week summer internship down south and has decided to take her car, so I’m travelling down with her - mainly to keep her company during the long drive down, but also to pay a wee visit to one of my relatives tonight - then I’m flying cheesyjet back home tomorrow. I’ve just waved Gordon off to school, as usual, but I also had to say my goodbyes to Ross as he’s heading off on holiday early tomorrow morning to Club La Santa for a couple of weeks with some of his friends. This next couple of weeks will be a wee taster of what it'll be like in September when Gemma heads back to Uni and Ross moves out to start his course at Strathclyde.

I’m always really pleased to see my kids off doing new and good stuff, but I can’t help missing them, and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having to say goodbyes when they're leaving for longer than a reasonable amount of time! I always, always do it with a big smile and a big hug and sometimes with a drippy tear too – but the kids know that, as much as I’ll miss them, I’m also happy and proud to see them off making the most of their adult lives.

So, I'm really looking forward to our road trip today: the car’s jam packed with Gemma’s gumph, my overnight bag’s slotted in at the side, the playlist’s sorted – and the tissues are stuffed in my pocket ready for the next goodbye that I’ll have to make later on today...!

A trip to Achilles Heel

Gemma and I had a trip through to Glasgow to the Achilles Heel running shop today. It was brilliant to have a wee catch up with my friend Katie, who owns the shop.

One of the best things about being involved with the City of Stirling 10k Road Race for a few years was the opportunity to work with some really fantastic people. The event was established in 2001 to raise much-needed funds for Central Athletic Club’s coffers and a great deal of work and organisation was put in by some of the club’s greatest stalwarts to get it off the ground.

I first got caught up in it in 2004 because the club was looking for someone to help out with the entries database, but I soon became quite heavily involved with other aspects of the organisation of the event. Cameron, the Big Daddy of the Stirling 10k, enjoyed the ‘nuts and bolts’ side of things – like setting out the course and helping on the day – but the ‘public face’ part along with the admin were becoming a bit of a bind, especially as the event was becoming bigger and the club were keen to raise its profile further. So, I was privileged to take over the role of Race Director and relished the challenge of things like introducing chip timing, helping to establish a new route, finding new sponsors and meeting the standards required for the Scottish Athletics Road Race Grand Prix and to host the Scottish 10k Championships. I loved being involved with the event and I’m proud of what we achieved while I was at the helm.

One of the best aspects of being involved was the relationship that developed between me and one of the event’s main sponsors. In previous years, various different companies had sponsored the race, but I was keen to attract a good running shop to help raise the profile of the event. Although her shop is through in Glasgow, it made sense to approach Katie Alexander, the owner of Achilles Heel, as our family had been using her shop for our running gear ever since she first opened it back in the year 2000. I can’t remember how that came about – I think Alex stumbled across the first wee shop in a lane off Byres Road one day when he was working through there. He was bowled over by the expert care and attention that Katie had delivered and the shop became a firm favourite for his running shoes from then on. In fact, I don't think Alex has bought a pair of trainers or spikes from anywhere else since then.

Without hesitation, Katie agreed to provide sponsorship and offered all sorts of extra help on top of the much-appreciated necessary financial support. Achilles Heel was the main sponsor of the Stirling 10k (and the concurrent Fun Run till it was, sadly, disbanded) for five years and they played a huge and crucial role in its growing success. I loved it when Katie and her vans rolled up early on the morning of the race each September. Amidst the chaos - loads of volunteers running around setting up barriers, gazebos, loud-speakers, port-a-loos, signs and water stations; marshals being organised; sorting out the trophies; dealing with the police; setting up the band; welcoming the other sponsors; smiling for the Provost; dealing with all sorts of unexpected queries; and lots more – Katie, her extremely knowledgeable partner Paul, her extremely lovely daughter Sam, her extremely handsome shop manager Stefan  and her extremely qualified team of assistants and physiotherapists would calmly set up their stands and gazebos, and bring a totally different, professional and attractive, dimension to the whole event. Plus, the best hugs of the day.

Neither me nor Katie are involved with the race any more, but I still see her and her team regularly as our family still use Achilles Heel for all its running stuff. Even though the shop’s through in Glasgow, we simply won’t go anywhere else. Gemma and I were there today as Gemma’s just getting back in to running after a long spell off and is having various problems with recurring injuries. We were in the shop for ages while Katie and Paul deliberated over the best options for Gemma and her foot pronation problems. All around us, the other members of staff were giving the same care and attention to the customers they were dealing with, taking time to explore any issues and making sure that their trainers were the best fit possible. Katie’s just brilliant. She’s enthusiastic, helpful, knowledgeable and genuinely interested in how your running’s going - whether you’re a serious club runner, jogger or walker - and her staff are just the same.

So - as a small way of saying a big thank you to Katie and her fantastic team for all those years of support, advice and hugs - I’m giving her a wee plug on my wee blog. If you’re looking for a pair of trainers, spikes, ‘fit’ leisure footwear (I swear by the ‘fit-flops’!) or any other type of running gear, and you’d like to be served by someone who’s friendly, patient and knows exactly what they’re talking about, I’d strongly recommend a trip through to Glasgow to Achilles Heel on Great Western Road. After eleven years of going there for many, many pairs of shoes, socks, shorts etc – none of the Milnes have ever been disappointed – I can’t recommend the place highly enough! It was always a pleasure to do that in an official capacity when I was in charge of the 10k – now it’s just lovely to do it as a friend and totally satisfied customer!

A lesson from Jane

The other day I had the absolute pleasure of a visit from Jane, from the choir, for a vocal coaching lesson! I’d been telling her that I always end up with a sore throat the day after rehearsal and she’d suggested that a wee bit of vocal coaching might just solve the problem.

I don’t think I’ve been singing properly for years. I remember one school show (a long, long time ago!), which ran for four or five nights. By the end of the week, my mum was making up all sorts of concoctions with glycerol and honey to help make my voice last till the end of the run. One of the solos I had to sing required a kind of sultry, low voice, which wasn’t helping (‘Turn Back Ol’ Man’ in ‘Godspell’) and the fact that I had to sing the song as loudly as possible while strutting about the audience, trailing a feather boa and sitting on random male audience members’ knees also wasn’t helping! (I remember making sure that the likes of my Dad, Alex, my brother, and various male friends sat on the designated seats so that I didn’t have to sit on some random dirty old teacher’s knee!) My voice only just made it to the end of the week - thanks to Mum and her potions!

Anyway, back to my lesson. I’d had a really lovely long lunch with my pal Elaine, so my vocal cords were well warmed up in time for Jane coming along! I’ve never had any form of singing lesson in my life, so I had absolutely no idea what to expect and - if truth be told - I was a wee bit nervous! There was absolutely no need to be, however, as Jane was just brilliant at putting me totally at ease. And, even better, within the first fifteen minutes she’d more or less pin-pointed the things that I should try doing differently to help prevent my voice disappearing after belting out a few songs. It all comes down to the way that I breathe or, more accurately, don’t breathe while I sing. The rest of the lesson was taken up with Jane, who has the patience of a saint, showing me how to put her ideas into practice. It’ll take a while to break old habits, but with Jane’s expert help I’m confident that I’ll learn how to look after my poor old throat a wee bit better, and hopefully be able to keep on singing without having to fall back on those bloody horrible ‘vocalzone’ throat lozenges!

It wasn’t just the help with my breathing that I enjoyed about Jane’s visit; she sat down at my dad’s piano and played it beautifully. Dad couldn’t read music, but he played brilliantly by ear. His piano was his absolute pride and joy and, when Gemma was little, he used to sit her on his knee and let her plonk away at the keys. It’s such a shame that he’s not around to see that Gemma inherited his love of music and, just like him, has a gift for playing by ear. Gemma inherited the piano when Dad died, so it has pride of place in our lounge until she has a place of her own big enough to house it. For the moment, because she’s away at Uni most of the time, the piano doesn’t get played as often as it used to, so it’s always an absolute joy when someone who can play really well comes in to our house and brings the piano to life – and Jane certainly did that! She’s got a beautiful voice too, and it was a privilege to be standing there singing a wee duet with her as she played.

I was so touched when Jane berated me for saying that I didn’t think I had that great a voice compared to most of the other members of the choir. She compared the choir to an orchestra, explaining how it's made up of all different sounds, tones and textures and that there's a place, in our very special epitome of a community choir, for all kinds of different voices. It was a lovely image to leave me with and that, along with a heap of good advice and a great wee blether, made me feel really good.

Looking out the window

I’ve probably mentioned on some other blog post that I never tire of the view from our living room window. We live in a pretty ordinary house with a pretty extraordinary view, and I absolutely love it. I dread the day that the farmer sells the field out the back of our house to some property developer or another. Until then, I’ll never take for granted how lucky I am to be able to sit here trying to decide what to write about while being distracted by the gorgeous sky in front of me.

The view’s awesome most nights, especially through the summer months, and we’re always saying things to each other like, “Aw, come and look out the window, the sky’s awesome tonight!”, as if it’s the first time it’s ever been so awesome! And tonight it really is awesome once again. Think I’ll give the blog a miss tonight and just enjoy watching the sky instead...





Tonight's viewing...



Singing a wonderful song

When the kids were a bit younger, one of our favourite CDs was the ‘Happy Songs’ compilation, and one of our favourite tracks was ‘What a Wonderful World’ by Louis Armstrong. We always had a laugh trying to impersonate his distinct, and fantastically low, croaky voice and we all loved belting out the “Oooohhh Yeaaaahhhh” at the end. So, it was just brilliant to be learning and singing this truly wonderful and happy song at choir tonight.

It’s always a really nice moment when Annie announces who’s getting to do the solo parts, especially when it’s a member who’s never sung solo before. Everyone’s really supportive and, as soon as the soloists have done their bit for the first time, everyone gives them a resounding clap and a cheer. Every one of the soloists that I’ve heard has been great, highlighting yet another of Annie and Jane’s talents; to perfectly match the song to the voice. Tonight was no different.  The hairs on the back of my neck literally stood on end as the chosen two did their thing. And, I felt tingly all over when the rest of us managed to nail Annie’s carefully arranged harmonies pretty quickly then sing along to produce a pretty special sound all together. What a Wonderful way to spend a Monday evening!

So, singing along to Louis at home will never be the same again; Alex, Ross and Gemma can take the melody while Gordon and I can do our thing with the harmony....must go dig out that ‘Happy Songs’ CD............

Balmoral and a birthday

I’m absolutely knackered tonight; I’ve had a busy weekend and I feel that kind of fuzzy way that you get when you’ve just come home from your holidays - even though I’ve only been away from home for two nights. Having said that, I’ve driven a fair few miles, the two nights were spent at opposite ends of the country and both nights I was last out of the hotel bar so it’s not too surprising that I’m knackered!

Gordon was away on an expedition for his Duke of Edinburgh award from Friday till Saturday and Alex was helping out at - then taking part in - the Gargunnock Hill Race on Saturday so Gemma, Ross and I headed off on a wee road trip! Ross had entered a half marathon that was being staged in the grounds of the Balmoral Estate on Saturday, so we decided to make a bit of a night and day away of it.

We headed up north on Friday evening and the scenery was simply stunning. It was a glorious sunny night and the three of us ‘oooohed’ and ‘aaahed’ the whole way to the Spittal of Glenshee (though you couldn’t really hear us over the beats belting out from the car stereo!).  Once we’d passed Perth, we practically had the whole road to ourselves; it was such a lovely journey.

The Spittal of Glenshee Hotel’s like a big cosy log cabin nestling in the hills and, although it’s a bit shabby, we enjoyed our stay. After a nice dinner, our sensible athlete headed off for an early night while the remaining two not-so-sensible supporters stayed up in to the wee small hours. A good blether and a fair few ciders later (Gemma had received some of her exam results earlier, so we had a good excuse for celebrating over a wee drinkie or two!), we also headed off to bed.

Saturday was another of those days that I wish I could wrap up and hold on to for just a wee bit longer. It started off with a good old buffet breakfast and another scenic drive up to Balmoral. The race was organised by the St James’s Place Foundation to raise funds for several local charities and, as Ross has been working this past nine months for St James’s Place before he heads off to University, he was keen to support the event. As soon as we drove across the wee bridge over the River Dee in to the grounds of Balmoral, we knew the day was going to be special. Like the Chariots beach race a few weeks ago, this wasn’t a big, fancy event, but the beautiful surroundings, the cheery organisers and the enthusiastic spectators all contributed to making it pretty unique. Just to add to the fun, Gemma and I were roped in to doing a bit of marshalling – which I would have been involved in down at the Gargunnock Hill Race had I stayed at home. It was nice to phone Alex and hear that all was going well with our wee village event, while donning a yellow tabard and cradling a walkie-talkie at a completely different event. I’m guessing that sounds a bit naff – but it made me feel good and not guilty about not being there to support my friends at our local event. Gemma and I managed to steer the runners in the right direction and enjoyed cheering them on at the same time. There was a 5k fun run that set off alongside the half marathon and poor Gemma was mortified at me continually getting it wrong with the runners in fancy dress; “Go the Smurf!”, I shouted at Marge Simpson and “Go Woody!”, I shouted at Jessie but, hey ho, I’m sure they appreciated the support all the same! Our marshalling duties finished in plenty of time to see Ross sprinting in to win the race. The organisers made a bit of a fuss of him at prize-giving since he’s so young, then made even more of a fuss when they discovered that he worked for St James’s Place. Ross doesn’t really do fuss all that well, but I think he quite enjoyed the attention all the same. Me and his big sister were certainly very proud!

We set off from Balmoral mid-afternoon, arrived back in Stirling at about five o’clock, had a very quick shower and changed in to our glad-rags, then drove down to the beautiful Peirsland House Hotel in Troon to meet up with the rest of the family for my nephews’ 21^st Birthday dinner. It seems like no time at all since I was breathing a big sigh of relief that my brother and his wife were having twins; there are loads of sets of twins in our family so, when Andrew and Craig came along, it vastly reduced the chances of me having a set! Phew! It was great to catch-up with the family (Gordon's feet had survived the expedition and Alex had enjoyed the hill run and peace of a quiet house!) and I always love to see my nephews. It was also nice for Mum to have her brood all around her, which she loves, but it doesn’t happen all that often.

After a second night of being the last to leave a hotel bar, then another big buffet breakfast (mmmmm) we headed up the road for home.

I’ve sat around for most of tonight, knackered, but content to be doing nothing much other than reflect on a lovely weekend that’s definitely made me feel really good.

Marshals extraordinaire!

Mum and her brood!

The winner!

Being at the Callander Crags

Standing out in the rain and getting eaten alive by midges was a small price to pay last night for the pleasure of being at the Callander Crags Hill Race. It’s a small, local event that’s organised by the Johnstones - a lovely family we became friends with during our first trip to Club La Santa in Lanzarote - and we always try to support it.

Now, I know the name ‘Club La Santa’ sounds kind of naff, but its name belies the brilliance of the place! We love it and have been back many times since our first holiday there in 2006. It’s more of a training camp than a holiday resort, and caters for folk who are keen on sports of all disciplines and all levels. There are timed, competitive events - such as a triathlon, duathlon, aquathlon and road races – and there are things like tennis, badminton, squash, kayak racing, biking, all kinds of fitness classes, a big gym, an Olympic size pool and a full size running track. It was originally built as the training camp for the Danish Olympic team before it was converted to accommodate sporty holiday-makers, so the apartments are pretty basic. But, we love the whole ethos of the place, and we’ve met some really interesting and great people during our holidays there – such as the Johnstones (knew I’d get back to the hill race eventually! And, yes, we went all the way to Lanzarotte to become friends with a family from Callander...).

The Crags race, like most hill races, is a simple affair with no airs and graces or complicated rules and regulations. The runners register in the back of the family’s wee camper van, set off with a bunch of other mad hill runners, run as fast as they can up to the top of the Crags and back down again (about 3 miles in total), enjoy the usual post-race banter at the bottom, head to the local sports centre for a cuppa, prize-giving and more banter before heading for home.

So, as I said, getting eaten alive by midges while standing in the rain was a small price to pay for a good catch-up with our friends. Cheering for Ross then Alex as they made it safely to the finish, enjoying the post-race chit-chat and watching Ross collect his second-place prize were all added bonuses that made being there a definite good choice for a wet Wednesday evening.

Though, I must admit, coming home to a cosy house and coorying up in front of the telly with everyone to watch ‘The Apprentice’ while supping a few beers (to help take my mind off the itchy midge bites..!) was a perfect way to end such a lovely night. Being outside and active is great, but sometimes you just can't beat a bit of slouch!

Dad

A load of things over the past few days have resulted in me thinking a lot about my Dad. A lovely long chat with my friend Linda on Friday, catching up with old school friends on Facebook, an emotional evening with my Mum – for all different reasons these things, amongst others, have contributed to me having one of my ‘just wish Dad was here’ kind of moments.

It’s over seventeen years since he died, but I feel the pain of losing him as sharply now as I did back in October 1993. The feeling doesn’t last the way it used to, but it’s still horrible. The day before Dad died, we’d been over for a lovely family Sunday dinner. Ross was only five weeks old and Gemma was just two.  My brother, his wife and their three year old twins were there, along with my aunt (my Dad’s twin sister) and uncle. Dad was his usual lively and cheery self; cooing over the new addition to his brood of grandchildren, down on his knees playing with the kids, joking around with us, keeping the wine flowing, helping Mum out in the kitchen, dishing out the meal and just loving having his precious family all around him. Dad was a big lover of life, an eternal optimist and everyone’s friend. He hadn’t been ill and there was absolutely no reason for any of us to suspect that within 24 hours he’d be gone. He’d often joked that his time would come when he was 57, as that’s what age his own Dad was when he died.

Twenty five days after his 57^th birthday, the day after our lovely family dinner, a massive heart attack stole Dad away from us. He was here, living and laughing one minute, dead and gone the next. Just like that. All the plans for a long and happy retirement with Mum were wiped out in one big shitty moment. A future of watching, and nurturing, five grandchildren as they grew up was snatched away. My mum was left to carry on without her soul mate and best friend. We all felt as if something sharp had pierced our hearts and taken a big chunk of it away – only, unlike Dad’s, our hearts were strong enough to survive the pain. It was so unfair.

I was the apple of my Dad’s eye (at least I was until Gemma came along!); he made me feel special, he filled me with confidence; he never held back in telling anyone who would listen how proud he was of me - no matter how small the achievement - he made me feel safe and secure and I loved him very much. We’d always been close as Dad and daughter (apart from some hairy moments during my teenage years) and, as I grew up, we became even closer as friends.

Moments like this today – just wanting Dad to be here, wishing he was here for mum, wishing he was here to see his family all growing up, thinking about the massive impact he would have had on our kids' lives and, really, just longing for one of Dad’s big proud smiles and wrap-around hugs – make me feel as sad now as they did all those, nearly 18, years ago when he died. Obviously it’s a different kind of sadness and the pain, although still as sharp, doesn’t have the same long-lasting effect that it used to have. But I know I’ll never be able to completely shake off that horrible feeling of it just being so unfair along with the longing to have my Dad back.

It’s the same for everyone who’s lost someone they love... Actually, no, it’s not the same; I don’t think anyone can ever fully understand the depth of another person’s emotions when they lose someone they love. And I don’t think we should even try. We can empathise, listen, hug and just be there – but I don’t think we should say that we understand. Everyone’s loss is different because we’re all different. Every relationship is different. Every circumstance is different. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain that Linda lives with every day since tragically losing her little boy. And I can’t begin to contemplate how hard it must be for a friend who lost her sister when she was at school and her son when she was an adult. I could go on, listing many other friends and family members who’ve suffered the loss of someone they love – as we all could. Death is a sad, shitty fact of life, and something that we all have to cope with on all different levels. It’s not the same for everyone, but a bit of empathy, a quiet ear and a broad shoulder can go a long way to helping make the pain a little bit easier to carry.

So, where’s my good, positive note to end on. Well, I attended a wee rehearsal tonight in preparation for my first ‘gig’ with the choir tomorrow. I’ll be singing my wee heart out (possibly in the pouring rain) and thoroughly enjoying doing something that I’ve loved doing ever since I was a wee girl. My big brother used to shout at me to shut up, but my Dad always told me to sing out loud and proud.  He loved to sing and could turn his hand to most musical instruments. Tomorrow we’re singing at a ‘Legends’ football match in Airdrie (you’ve got to start somewhere you know..!) and one of the team captains is Derek Johnstone, the ex (and now very big!) Ranger’s player. My dad was a Rangers fan (I haven’t inherited that from him as I don’t give a hoot about football) and I know he would’ve been chuffed to bits to see me in the choir at this event. So, I’ll be thinking about Dad and singing with a big smile on my face tomorrow. You see, although he's not here to see it, Dad's had - and continues to have - a huge positive influence on me, giving me a determination to make the very most of this little life of mine  - a life that I love and treasure so very much.

Happy, smiley Dad at my 21st!

Something worth getting up early on a Sunday for

Getting out of bed at 5am on a Sunday morning wasn’t easy, but it had to be done if I wanted to go with Ross to the Edinburgh Half Marathon. This was the first time that he was going to be running with the name ‘Milne’ on his chest, instead of a number – a gesture often made by race organisers to highlight some of the elite runners - so the 5am start was a small price to pay for being there to support him.

There’s always a fantastic buzz about a city when there’s a big running event going on, and Edinburgh was no different on Sunday. The half marathon started at 8am, then the full marathon set off at 10am. All in all, around 15000 runners descended on the capital – and then there were all the friends and families who’d come along to provide support. It was pretty special, watching Ross in the pen at the front of the field along with the handful of other runners who’d been allocated a name rather than a number. Bryan Burnett (the Scottish DJ and broadcaster who’s also a keen – and pretty good – runner) was commentating and I was literally grinning from ear to ear when he announced Ross’s name along with the other older, much more experienced, athletes at the head of the pack of half marathon participants.

Now, once the excitement of the race start was over, I had to make my way from the top of Regent Road to the top of Market Street to catch a supporter’s bus; the race route took the runners way out of the city centre to finish in Musselburgh, so buses had been laid on to ferry both spectators – and runners when they’d finished – there and back. For those of you who don’t know Edinburgh, the walk from Regent Road to Market Street only takes about 10 minutes and it was a great atmosphere heading back past all the hundreds of runners in the crowds still making their way down to the start line. There was the usual mix of serious club runners, joggers and guys dressed up in big hairy dog costumes; they all had electronic chips on, so it didn’t matter that it was taking them a while to make it to the start as their ‘chip time’ would be taken from when they actually crossed the line.

The excitement and spring in my step soon dissipated when I turned the corner from Princes St towards Waverley Station and saw the massive queue waiting to get on the buses. Shit! I started to panic that I wouldn’t make it to the finish in time to see Ross cross the line. For a fleeting moment I considered jumping in a taxi – the car was parked too far away and I didn’t have a clue how to get to the finish by car anyway – but, the bus pass had been provided free with Ross’s ‘elite runner’ gumph, so I was bloody well going to use it! Ross’s PB for a half marathon was 80 minutes, so I figured there was plenty of time – and I presumed that the organisers had taken the vast numbers into account, so, I joined the queue and moved slowly towards the waiting buses. Forty minutes after Ross had set off, the bus left.

Now, you’d think that the organisers would allocate drivers for duty that day who knew how to get from Market Street to Musselburgh. 60 minutes after Ross set off, I was sitting somewhere outside Musselburgh in a convoy of buses that had taken a wrong turn and were trying to figure out which way to go next. Eventually the drivers sussed it out and we arrived at Wallyford Bus Depot (apt name me thinks), around 69 minutes after the race had started. There was no one there and no directions to tell us which way to go. The depot seemed out in the middle of nowhere. I quickly legged it – well, as quickly as someone who’s not supposed to run and who’s laden down with her son’s jumpers, water and food for after the race can leg it - in the direction that I thought seemed most obvious and, approximately 74 minutes after Ross set off, I spotted a big crowd of spectators standing on a street corner. Forgetting that I’m not supposed to run, I ran towards the crowd, politely pushed my way through, turned my head and could have wept when I saw, running towards me, the distinctive yellow and blue Central vest and the even more distinctive running style of my son! What luck – out of 5000 runners, Ross was the one that was about to run around that corner just as I’d arrived at it. I crossed over to the middle of the road: a) to get a better view of Ross and b) to ask the race marshal how far I was from the finish.

“Haw you! You’ll need tae move fae there. Get back across the street!”, a big burly guy in a yellow jacket, who looked more like a security guard than a race steward, shouted.

“Are you kidding? That’s my son coming, I’m going nowhere pal!”

It was a relief, and just felt brilliant, to be able to give Ross a cheer on at last! After he’d passed, I asked my new friend what was the quickest way for spectators to get to the finish line. I knew I wouldn’t see Ross cross it, but I wanted to be there to meet him at the end.

“You’re not allowed to go to the finish.”

“Pardon?!”

“No spectators are allowed past this point.  You have to go the reunion site and watch the finish on the big screen.”

“Where’s the reunion site?”

“About a 15 minute walk up this road. It's miles from the finish.”

I won’t repeat my response.

Taking in my surroundings, I noticed that there were big barriers with black out screens preventing spectators any access to the final stretch of the race. I’ve never seen anything like it. I made my way towards the reunion site, cursing the organisers of the event for the shambolic system in place for spectators and hoping that the experience had been different for Ross and all the other runners. At the end of the day, the athletes are the most important people in a race, but the spectators also have an important role to play and I felt let down by the organisers of this event.

To top it off, the big screens were showing videos of last year’s T in the Park! I'm not quite sure whether there was a technical hitch, or whether someone had just forgotten to change the channel to the race coverage, but it was a farce whatever the reason. I eventually met up with Ross at the top of the cordoned off street that the runners had been directed towards after they'd finished, received their medals and goody bags and, eventually, been given their water. The top of this street was also barriered and screened off, and the stewards – who, again, looked more like bouncers (maybe the T in the Park package came with free security staff..?!) – were most efficient in stopping proud family members walking down the street to greet the runners they’d come to support.  

Absolutely none of this mattered to Ross; he'd had a great run, finished in the top 20 and wiped four minutes off his PB. And, within seconds of meeting him and exchanging sweaty hugs, it was all totally irrelevant to me too. Ross had come to Edinburgh with two main aims; to achieve a new PB and to enjoy his run. And, at the end of the day, that was all that really mattered. So, we headed off for the shuttle bus back to the city centre, full of chat and both agreeing that it had been a great morning. Yup, definitely one that was worth getting up early for.

A curry night with a difference..

When my pal Julie asked if I’d like to go to the theatre to see Hardeep Singh Kohli as a treat for my birthday, I had to Google the name to find out who he was. As soon as I saw his photo I recognised him; you know the guy? He’s a Glaswegian broadcaster, big bloke, wears a turban, was the runner up on Celebrity Masterchef - though he’s much more familiar to me as ‘Naveed’ (from Still Game)’s brother and as a regular panellist on Question Time. Anyway, the show was excellent. Basically, it involved him chatting to the audience, and a couple of surprise special guests, while he cooked a curry on the stage. It felt a wee bit like sitting round a pal’s kitchen table, blethering while they rustled up the dinner. The guests turned out to be Nick Nairn and, best of all, Sanjeev Kohli – better known as Naveed!

It was unfortunate that the MacRobert (Stirling’s theatre) was half empty; though that’s not unusual and it certainly didn’t spoil the show. I don’t know whether hardly anyone from Stirling likes going to the theatre, or whether they just choose to go to Glasgow and Edinburgh when they do. I’m pretty sure it’s the latter; and, most of the ‘big’ productions don’t come to the MacRobert – so, maybe folk don’t realise the high quality of the shows that it sometimes does host? I mean, if you go along to see one of the local theatre groups, or school shows or gang show etc in Stirling, it’ll be packed out every night with families and friends. Maybe that’s it, maybe folk think of it as just a wee theatre for local, amateur productions? Anyway, I think their marketing department should be doing a better job!

After the show, I bought one of Hardeep’s books and stood in the queue with my friends to get it signed. I don’t usually go in for that kind of thing, but I’d really enjoyed the show and wanted a wee keep-sake from the night. While I was waiting my turn, I commented on the fact that my nose was still running after sampling the delicious, but very hot, curry he’d made on the stage. (Some members of the audience got to sample his cooking, and I was one of the lucky ones - even better, it was dished out to me by Nick Nairn!) Hardeep heard me, so signed my book, ‘To Jane and her streaming nose’, which I thought was a nice wee personal touch! Then, while I was waiting on my friends, I spotted Sanjeev Kohli standing over in the corner of the foyer. The couple of glasses of wine before the show and at the interval worked their wonder and I sauntered over to ask him to sign the back of my book (which, on reflection, was a bit rotten for Hardeep as it was his baw). Anyway, I said hello and asked if he would sign the book and make it out to Jane. My friend Pamela chipped in from behind me, telling him it was my birthday the next day. Without any hesitation, he jumped from speaking to me in his broad Glaswegian accent to being Naveed in saying, “Aw, Happy Birthday Jane, ya big boot!”, which he also wrote on my copy of Hardeep’s paperback!  We stood and blethered for a good ten minutes or so, as you would with someone you’ve just met down the pub, before it was time for the girls and I to head for home.

It was altogether a lovely night; spending time with some of my friends, getting entertained and cooked for by Hardeep Singh Kohli, getting served by Nick Nairn and getting called a boot by Naveed. Definitely one to remember!

A perfect few days

Sometimes when I’ve had a really great day (such as Sunday in St Andrews) a few, sort of anti-climax days tend to follow. Fortunately, that’s not been the case so far this week.

I met up with my lovely friend Claire for a quick cuppa yesterday morning, a perfect start to the day before heading off to do some voluntary work through in Falkirk. I did a bit of work work when I got home before shooting out to choir. Anyone who fancied auditioning for a solo part had been asked to come along earlier than usual so, as he was up for it, I took Gordon along to join the others who’d decided to give it a go. I was totally in awe of them all. They walked up to the front, one by one, and sang their wee hearts out in front of Annie, Jane and the rest of us. They were all fantastic (though, I’m slightly biased of course towards the youngster who sang “Chasing Cars”, but that’s a mother’s prerogative!).  A wee part of me wanted to get up and try – but I completely bottled out. Now, anyone that knows me well will know how annoying I can be at hogging the microphone whenever there’s an opportunity to stand up and sing in a social setting! But, it’s a different matter standing up and singing on your own in front of a bunch of gifted singers! It takes a different kind of guts, and confidence in your ability to sing well, to audition like that. Think I’ll just stick to the backing vocals!

The rehearsal itself was great. Annie does this thing of ‘revealing’ the new song; she doesn’t tell us what the song is, just starts to play it on the piano and, when folk ‘get it’, they start singing along.  As more and more of the choir start to recognise the song, the sound gets louder and bigger. Clapping and cheering follow, as the song choice always meets with enthusiastic approval! Then, each section is taught their part and, what started as a bunch of folk singing along to the tune, is quickly transformed into a choir of voices singing in perfect harmony! (OK, maybe not always perfect to begin with, but it never fails to amaze me how quickly we start to pick it up!) Speaking of perfect, that was one of the new songs last night, ‘Perfect’ by Fairground Attraction. They were one of my favourite bands in the eighties and I love that particular song; it was released in 1988, the year that  Alex and I  got married. Last night, the verses were sung beautifully by three different soloists – one of them was my old friend, Sandra,  which made the choir’s version all the more special!

At the risk of this blog becoming a running commentary on the Heart of Scotland Choir, I’ll finish on a different personal high note. I thoroughly enjoyed being at the course through in Edinburgh this morning, which was a real breakthrough after three weeks of doubting my decision to change venue. Today I felt as if I was sitting in a room with a bunch of friends, rather than a bunch of students – and that really did make me feel good.

It’s been lovely tonight to do nothing (except a bit of work work which should’ve been done this afternoon when, instead, I was enjoying a leisurely late lunch with my pal Sue) and draw breath after a busy few days. All in all, it’s turning out to be a perfect Birthday week!

A special day on the beach

Today’s been one of those days that I wish I could package up and keep so that I could play it over and over and over again. I’ve explained in a previous post why Chariots of Fire is kind of special for us and I was extremely proud, a few weeks ago, when Gemma was selected to take part in the filmed re-enactment of the opening sequence. Well, today was the Chariots of Fire 5k Beach Race - another event to celebrate the 30^th anniversary of the film’s release – and Derek, our coach, had been invited to compete as he was one of the original ‘beach’ runners in the film. There was no way that the Milne crew were missing this one!

We arrived at the gorgeous West Sands of St Andrews this morning with a car packed full of stuff and goodies for a post-race barbeque with some of our friends from Central AC. Some of them had already arrived and, while we were setting up camp on the beach, Gemma and Tola came strolling along the sands too. They’ve both got exams coming up, but were taking some time out to join us. With all our family’s different things going on, it’s not that often these days that we’re all out together; consequently, I kept doing that thing of standing back and savouring the moment (and probably looked like a bit of a numpty in the process!).

After a good bit of pre-race banter, the runners all gathered at the start line. Fortunately the wind died down and the big blow-up gantry didn’t take off, but there was a hitch with the sound system which meant that,  unfortunately, the Vangelis theme tune didn’t blast out as planned when the runners set off.  However, it didn’t matter as the race itself was a fantastic spectacle with over 200 runners, all clad in white and some bare-foot, bounding off in to the distance. The runners were met at the half way point by the swirl of pipes before turning and bolting back to the finish. I was just about beside myself when I spotted Ross heading back along the beach to come in first, closely pursued (well, not that closely...) by Alex in second place.  A steady stream of runners followed, with the rest of the Central AC crew - Gordon included – all doing themselves proud. One of the really special highlights of the day was cheering Coach across the line – it must have been such a poignant (as well as knackered!) moment for him.

After the race Derek was invited, along with two of the other original runners from the film, to speak at the prize-giving. Watching Alex, then Ross, walk forward for their prizes, with Coach there beside them, brought a wee tear to my eye! It’s hard to explain; the event wasn’t a big, fancy one, it didn’t count for anything; it was really all just for a bit of fun and to raise money for charity – but I probably felt just as proud and touched by this event as I would’ve done had it been a big, national affair. More often than not, it’s the people you’re with and the surroundings you’re in that make a thing special – no matter how simple or small that thing is. Today was a perfect example of that for me.

More banter, burgers and big cakes followed at the barbeque, which rounded off a pretty perfect day. It’s another one to add to the list of great occasions we’ve had with our friends from the athletics club. You know, running’s a brilliant way to keep fit – but it’s also a brilliant wee community to be a part of. Today was a happy, special reminder of that - and one that I’ll not forget for a long time to come.



The Milne Crew





Post -race warm down: Chariots of Fire - Central AC style!



Finding my voice - kind of...

I’ve been work working most of the day. Every now and again, to break the monotony, I’ve been logging in to the choir ‘channel’ on YouTube in order to practice the songs that I’ve missed. (This highlights another advantage of working from home – no one can hear me screech!) Annie puts such a lot of time and effort in to recording each part on to the channel. It must take her ages; she plays the piano and sings along for each and every part (melody, low harmony, middle harmony etc) for all the new songs, but I’m so glad she does! It’s a brilliant way of helping us learn at home.

On Monday, while I was sulking with my sore throat, the choir members that had made it along to practice were learning ‘Angels’. It must be one of the best known pop songs – I know it word for word so trying to learn the low harmony has been a nightmare! I just keep falling into the trap of singing the song as I know it. Even with the fantastic help of Annie’s YouTube video! All those ‘Singstar’ and ‘beer-bottle-in-the-living-room’ nights are now coming back to haunt me! Hopefully I’ll have cracked it by next Monday night, or I can see the rest of the crew from the low harmony group wishing I’d never joined! Anyway, the positive for me is that I can, as last, join in again as my voice seems to be more or less back to normal – whether I’ll be managing to get the songs right is another matter. Hopefully, a bucket load of enthusiasm will make up for the odd wrong note or two!