October 31st
I came into possession of this photograph today – it was posted on Twitter by the nursery I did my “Wiggle, Ping, Pop” workshop with a couple of weeks ago, with the pleasing accompaniment, “Everyone had a fabulous time!”. The music is the basses’ learning track for Handel’s “Behold, The Lamb Of God” which we tackled from scratch tonight at The Bridge Singers – and got to the end of, and sang with much power and emotion. Oh my, it was wonderful. Also today, I have made four mini-quiches, 12 sausage rolls, nine coconut and blackberry tartlets and a chocolate cake. And my very lovely brother Michael has arrived for a day and a bit of merriment.

October 30th
Frolicking in Paternoster Square with Elisabeth Frink’s Sunday sheep these chimey chimes blurted out their frantic, summoning call from nearby fog-shrouded St. Paul’s Cathedral, but we were in no position to dally nor go in their direction, as we had a train to catch – a first class train that is, from King’s Cross to Morpeth (change at Peterborough) and thence home. What a brilliant trip to London it’s been though, with all stated aims achieved – opera, art and phone boxes – with merriment and laughter.

October 29th
We went to Hampton Court Palace for most of today and discovered stuff about the lives of Henry VIII and William III. I found William III the most interesting, but I think I’m in a minority there as they were all geared up for Henry VIII lovers with people dressed like him and his courtiers roaming free in character and being loud in a Tudor sort of way. I had “Pastime With Good Company” running through my head at all times in the Henry bits, but when our minds were turned to William III my head switched to extracts from Purcell’s “Come Ye Sons Of Art”, which was much more intellectually and emotionally stimulating. We also did a lot, lot, lot of walking today, so the cherry liqueurs from M&S that saw me through the evening were completely justified and well-earned. I do like “Pastime With Good Company”, by the way. Top song. Here we are at midday in the decorative herb garden.

October 28th
It’s the merry-go-round outside the Natural History Museum in London, and that man in the suit is the Dad who does all the “woah”-ing. Top Dad. But this is not what really what the day’s been about. Crazy old Picasso’s exquisite and varied portraits, Paul Nash’s extensive and emotional career and art (including a preoccupation with a stand of three trees, I noted with glee) numerous red telephone boxes, and a fruity, chocolatey, sandwichy, high tea – these are the thrilling things that today’s been about.

October 27th
The orchestral winds and percussion practise, the audience gathers, the lights are dimmed, the audience fidgets on its creaky seats, the curtain rises to reveal the barber sharpening his knife ready to give Kovalov his shave. It’s Shostakovich’s The Nose, which I went on to be delighted by throughout. Particular highlights were the tap-dancing massed noses, and the hocketing hacks. When we left, my attention was diverted by a line-up of five K2 telephone boxes, the middle three of which were illuminated warmly.

October 26th
Happy day with chatting to Michael and Mum, finishing off the cakes, very encouraging feedback on several of my pieces, actually completing a list of jobs-to-do for once, music, marketing, anticipating and research. This is one of the happiest pieces of music I know by Purcell, sung here by Bailiffgate Singers a year and a half ago and a clue as to what I’m looking forward to.

October 25th
I don’t know the farmer who owns the field with the sycamores at the edge of it. In all the visits I’ve made up there, I’ve never seen anyone working in that field. However, I do often see what he’s been doing as he goes about his farming business : sowing, harvesting, ploughing, muck-spreading, chopping off branches that are in the way of the above. Look at the blue sky behind too – lots of happy cyclists in the village while I made Bach and Handel learning tracks, orange cupcakes and merry chat with choristers and other village friends. This is the middle verse of March Of the Heavy Ginghams performed in 2005 by OK Chorale of Palmerston North.

October 24th
Hitsuji – Japanese for sheep, I have learned today. I’ve been arranging a song about a lonely Japanese sheep for The Bridge Singers suggested by our wonderful soprano Miki. This is part of the soprano 1 learning track as played by my computer with some autumn leaves I spotted last week. It was choir tonight in fact and we energetically tackled Nymphs and Shepherds by Henry Purcell amongst other things. Top composer, Purcell. I also had some cheering feedback from people with whom I am not acquainted about the Felton Sycamores documentary. These are the sorts of things that make me smile with glee.

October 23rd
I’ve tinkered with sheep music today, watched my first ever episodes of DCI Banks (he doesn’t smile much, does he?)and done lots of sleeping. One item of sheep tinkering has involved this arrangement of Northumberland folksong, Bonny At Morn, the first words of which are “The sheep’s in the meadow…” performed here by Bailiffgate Singers a couple of years ago. Here also, is a diseased sycamore leaf – tar spot, caused by the fungus rhytisma acerinum, apparently.

October 22nd
Lacking the inclination to “soldier on”, I have lolled about in front of the BBCiplayer for much of today and am now fully up with the strange people on The Apprentice, how the first Severn Bridge was constructed, the trials and traumas of a man updating a house in Retford he bought at an auction, several radio arts programmes, the test match in Bangladesh, the Saturday football results and ramifications. The cheering highlight of the day was the arrival through the letter box of this delightful sheepy gift from my very lovely choir friend Claire. Thank you. It is displayed here against my furry clothing and accompanied by an appropriately sheepy song from my days in Dunedin. I wrote it for my friend Glenda and her school choir.

October 21st
The last two lilies in the bathroom opened, the fuscias in the garden are vibrant in the sun outside. This is the melody I composed for the song Manukau (words by Robyn Trinick) when I worked in Mangere Bridge in 1993. It was one of the first songs I wrote for children and it was with this one that I learned that children can sing anything in any combination of time signatures if it is demonstrated and presented to them with enthusiasm and integrity.

October 20th
Heading downhill sort-of day but with an excellent start – five K6 telephone boxes (2 in Holmfirth, 1 on the outskirts, 1 in at a tricky intersection in an unknown pocket of Yorkshire, 1 at Denby Dale) and two Victorian pillar boxes (1 in Holmfirth, 1 in Denby Dale) spotted within 30 minutes of leaving our B&B. Wowsers, eh!? Our plan to leave the car at Garforth while Jamie went a-meeting in Leeds and I went to York was scuppered by Garforth being a place lacking in car-parking spaces in which you can stay for longer than 2 hours, so I car-park hopped for three hours with my book and paracetamol, feeling achier and achier of limb and thicker and thicker of throat, until Jamie returned post-meeting and we headed north. I slept until we reached County Durham, we stopped for candles and car fuel in Gateshead, and landed home in Northumberland by which stage I was a drooping mess and needed more sleep. So no barbershop for me and off to an early bed with optimism for a better tomorrow. This photo – K6 No.1 snapped through rainy windows whilst we stopped briefly at traffic lights in Homfirth (I noticed the intriguing retail opportunity on the left, and reference to hot banana music, once I got the camera home). This music – verse 2 of the song which has resulted in everyone from The Bridge Singers (including me it seems) sending photos of these boxes when they go on their holidays and excursions.

October 19th
Helping the Horbury Bridge 3 year olds to appreciate the art through music and language, and posing with Jamie in the car park in Holmfirth. It’s been a Yorkshire day.

October 18th
Sleepy day. Orange weed. Lullaby.

October 17th
After stuffing all the available nooks and crannies of the car (not already filled with musical detritus from Sunday’s workshops at the Hepworth) with bags of wood off-cuts for our burner (the result of Mum and Dad’s continued clearing up of garage, shed and attic – oh, and now the garage has very nearly completed its transformation to laundry/bathroom/bike shed) I drove home, minorly inconvenienced by a tractor of sugar beet and also a low-loader with a house of great width on its back, but generally incident-fee. Following a period of rest and recuperation during which I noticed with delight that in my short absence, not only had the overflowing rubbish bin my office had been emptied by a tidier-than-me Jamie, but also that my YouTube channel seapieparcel had sailed past the 20,000 views mark, (including 57 views in Peru and one in St. Vincent and the Gerenadines, of this song which compares “our” school to famous buildings around the world – very good for assemblies, by the way), I went to the pub to conduct the choir and they were in fine form indeed with a big, rhythmic, tuneful, well-blended, moodily nuanced effort on Phyllis who has now been well and truly found and kissed. She was a shepherdess, I believe, and therefore makes it into our upcoming recitals. This is the night view from the office window of the dramatic arrangement of steps, bridge, railings and road in the fiery rainlight.

October 16th
Inspired by Anthea Hamilton’s Table Volcano at The Hepworth Wakefield, composing families create their pyroclastic rhapsodies with the help of a certain composer you know. This is the 12.15 ensemble who have been imagining the table without its red glass volcano, and are now starting to ooze, before eventually exploding gongly……and then silence. You can see the toes of our gradually assembling massive audience, whom you then hear clapping humungously and smilingly while someone in the group offers much whooping enthusiasm.

October 15th
Off to Acklington for The Bridge Singers’ guest spot at the Art Club’s fundraiser. As you see, I was blocking off access to the cakes during this particular half hour. You see us singing Alison’s K6 Telephone Box, but you don’t hear that in our selection here because I can’t stop myself singing along and as the recording machine is right beside me, that sort of ruins it for you. However, here are a few snippets that I managed to shut up for, and I can report that no sooner had the clapping stopped than I was whisked away so that the cakes could be got at again. We learned during this experience that we can sing things with no warm-up in a pretty accomplished and very entertaining manner, but they don’t like being on a stage when they can’t see the conductor on the ground, and I don’t like it either.

October 14th
The list of things to do today has been too long, but what I have managed is to finish off my radio-style documentary for The Felton Sycamores (as I write it’s uploading to YouTube, so you’ll be able to hear it shortly), by, amongst other things, heading up to them and recording one last bit of commentary and also took this autumnal picture of the spinning jenny clumps, practised the music for and attended my first Rock Festival Choir rehearsal for the Advent concert (this is us singing That First Christmas Night at a previous one – we’re also singing it at this year’s), collated and sent biographical information, scores and recordings to a choral director in New Zealand. Also my old phone has been returned today, and I’ve discovered that my new phone has a torch, which I’ve been shining merrily at things in the dark. Jamie wondered out loud when the novelty of this might wear off.

October 13th
Thursday night is Lionheart Harmony night and as it’s the 2nd Thursday of the month we’re performing at Nether Grange in Alnmouth for the guests’ final night. We agree that they were one of the best audiences ever with much laughter, clapping (along and at the ends of songs) and enjoyment on their faces. You catch us here just before we head into the bar/cafe for our set in the helpful acoustics of the warm-up room. As you see and hear, Sid is already on the move, Gary has taken up his green weapon for his debut on the hilarious slapstick later, Jamie provides exquisite descants as well as two extra legs and a double chin for Simon. Gwyn checks his lyrics and Mick decides it’s time to go by declaring so mid-song and staring Gary and his weapon out. Simon and I are on the “ba-dahs” and then the oohs at which point I walk over to the machines, grab a photo and switch them off. Showtime!

October 12th
Wednesday is all about the leaves: gathering together stuff about the sycamores, going up to the sycamores in the rain, noticing the autumn colours and shrivelledness of the leaves before they drop, walking back without a photo, peering over the bridge and spotting this cute and obliging grey wagtail tailwagging and preening in the drizzle, and noticing the river’s surface carries newly fallen leaves before they sink to the bed which has an autumnal coat of them. I guess they’ll rest there until we have a deluge and the river rises and whisks them off to Norway or Australia.

October 11th
“We’ll leave home at quarter to 5!” said not me, but Jamie, as he had to catch the 5.25am train from Newcastle Central to London to get to a meeting at 9.30 in time. So here we are (you can see the top of the car and tiny Jamie and the station clock with the evidence). I can report that negotiating the early morning streets of Newcastle when it’s dark and raining so you can’t see the lane lines and there are no cars to follow the tail lights of, is not my favourite task, but there you have it. I needed the car to later go for a meeting with Jane and Sandra about our upcoming Lambton Worm project. Here’s one of my earlier Lambton Worm projects – it’s the choir singing and Year 1 acting loudly in the foreground, Grangetown Primary School Winter Wear project, December 2005.

October 10th
The Bridge Singers has a mini-gig on Saturday. We are not yet ready to perform much of our new sheepy repertoire, so we’re going mostly for last term’s favourites. We spent about 35 minutes singing through our 30 minute programme – no practising of gnarly corners, minimal pfaffing with scores missing or in the wrong order, excellence in all the nuances, correct notes and spirit of each song as we have sung them before. This choir is exhilaratingly wonderful.
Earlier I wandered up past the sycamores where I espied conkers horsing around in the undergrowth.

October 9th
I may have mentioned before that I completely love my newish role as Musical Director of The Bridge Singers. A bonus and delightful consequence of this is that we now know lots of wonderful people who live in the village which we had previously remained hidden from. This evening was spent in the delightful company of some of them, and one of the many and cheery topics of conversation amongst all the extraordinarily delicious food we consumed, was this morning’s astonishing rainbow which was vivid, complete and double. I snapped it through the window and was reminded of my rainbow song from my projects in Nottingham and Grassington.

October 8th
Sir Arthur Heselrig was the Governor of Newcastle in 1650. His letter about the Scottish prisoners from the Battle of Dunbar informed both Tony’s poem and my music for The Felton Sycamores. Here are extracts read by Richard and in the background it’s The Bridge Singers on the Civil War song “The Loyal Soldier”. It’s a bit more from the story of this song. In other news, we went to Newcastle ourselves today and saw “The Girl On The Train” at the Tyneside – a movie and a cinema to be heartily recommended to one and all.

October 7th
When I went for my walk I was diverted by the variety and shapeliness of gate fastenings on display. This was my most thought about – blacksmith-made chain, I sense. Also, spiritual Lionheart Harmony memories from Thursday to accompany. Amongst sundry composing and choir-directing tasks, I watched last weekend’s Strictly Come Dancing during my cheese scone lunch and found myself full of respect for Ed Balls and his rhythmic, kooky Charleston. Odd feeling. And even odder: feeling empathy with Yvette Cooper as she watched in delight from the whoopsome crowd.

October 6th
Lionheart Harmony lived life on the edge this evening by singing in Welsh for the Newcastle Welsh Society. They seemed happy with us, gave us delicious food and let us win several of their raffle prizes. Anne took some pictures, including this one where we seem to be all earnestly singing the same thing at the same time. I learned a thing or two about the reputation of people from Cardigan in the new president’s speech too, which was very funny indeed. Thanks to them for inviting us and being a cheery audience.

October 5th
Gill and her friend, some intricate gate fastenings, sheep, assorted trees in their autumnal state, conkers, two lost delivery van drivers, the mighty wind, the sun, two scarf-enveloped dog walkers with hoods up, an emu, spinning jennies, blackberries in the hedgerows, car-washing Mary, the obelisk, the sycamores, curly grass, an on-the-phone-and talking-throughout-my-purchases shop assistant, a flotilla of red admirals – these are the things I interacted with on my walk this morning. It’s National Poetry Day tomorrow so here’s a bit of Sheep poem with Sid, Hilda’s Whimsy for oboe and curly grass in the sun.

October 4th
Tuesday has been a sleepy one, due I guess, to driving to and from Keswick yesterday through the fog and diversions to see my gorgeous sister and then using a lot of energy at The Bridge Singers. It’s the way of Tuesdays. I did conjure enough alertness to renew my library books, but not read them … to listen to and think about what I’ve so far completed in my Felton Sycamores documentary, but not add any more … to formulate a list of songs to sing at our forthcoming Acklington gig, but not send it out to everyone. Wednesday is full of promise, last Wednesday was full of Danish flowers floating on lakes in the rain, and the Friday before was full of songs about umbrellas with Rock Festival Choir.

October 3rd
Cloud hopping, I rose through the sunrise this side of Kirkwhelpington and beheld southwards a sea of mist out of which rose the utmost tops of occasional trees and gilded roofs. An astonished moment of “Oh!” sang out from the car before descending once more onto the Cumbria road.

October 2nd
While the tone may be thin and inconsistent, and the tuning may be awry, and the resulting mess may be huge, it is possible to make and ice a cake while practising your Welsh, with adequate proficiency on both to produce an attractive and tasty cake and acquire sufficient confidence to negotiate a Lionheart Harmony practice without reprimand from the Welshman.

October 1st
Gaynor and Colin left the North-east for the final time today: we spent the morning with them and sadly waved them off. Earlier, they had only had a banana each for breakfast: we went to The Baltic and had brunch. I left my phone in Copenhagen: I now have most of a new phone. We wanted to know the differences between all the phones: the phone-selling person told us that “there was 3 then 3b then 4 then 5…..” She thought we were old, stupid and difficult: we are none of those things, although I will concede that compared to her we are quite old. We almost have a new phone: we cancelled the old phone by chatting to people in India and Yorkshire on the landline. Before we went to Copenhagen we ate the food: we had no food left. We went to the supermarket: we now have food. We have to sing in Welsh on Thursday: we practised our Welsh. While we were in Copenhagen we missed the Great British Bake-Off: we caught up and are sad to see Rav go, because Rav is happy and uncompetitive and one of us finds two other of the contestants slightly irritating and would prefer that they left the tent (the other has no opinion on this matter, but watches nevertheless). I was too busy to create anything new today: luckily I create new things for a living and have a spare from September. I searched for bananas in the fruity frescos on the walls and ceiling of Roskilde Cathedral yesterday: this banana-flower-like flower bud was the closest I came. I once did an arrangement of Ted Waite’s song “I’ve Never Seen A Straight Banana”: Rock Festival Choir sang it last week in Alnwick.