As I write this post, I’m sitting up at Sabine’s house “ cat sitting”. Margot is rubbing up against my iPad (presumably to make it clear that it is hers). Louis is eating his food and Juliet is contemplating life. Juliet apparently likes the piano being played so shortly I’ll be entertaining her with a piano concert (add that to the list of things I didn’t think I’d be doing - concerts for cats). Yesterday I treated her to JL Krebs’ Clavierubung II but due to a lack of positive feedback I’m thinking I’ll try some ragtime today - see if she prefers jollier stuff.
The summer weather here in Dønna has been absolutely wonderful - my arms became a healthy colour of brown and even my legs started to become less pale. I’m told it was the best summer for quite a few years (and certainly the best of the 3 I’ve been here for) and it was like that pretty much until the week my father arrived. And then there were clouds and rain. We went up Dønnesfjellet and I had to explain how fabulous the view was normally - “there are islands out there …”
We did have a lovely time - showing them the sights and sounds of the island. I did offer to take the week off but dad, being an organist as well, was quite happy to come along and see all the churches and the organs. We had the traditional visit to cafe in Sandnessjøen, Peter Dass museum etc as well as visiting various of my friends.
He and Sue also came to the last of my Wednesday lunchtime organ recitals which, modesty aside, seem to have gone reasonably well. I’m certainly happy with how I played generally and the audience always outnumbered the performers. Audiences find organ recitals, certainly mine at least!, awkward in the fact that they don’t know when to clap. The organist is hidden at the back so can’t make a gesture to make it clear that the piece has finished. Of course I’m choosing to focus on that aspect rather than the possiblity it was a fairly grim performance and they’re just sitting still in shock “dear god, what have we just heard?”
It was great having Dad there as he knew all the pieces really well so knew when to clap. Of course, he also knew all the pieces really well so knew when the mistakes happened. Swings and roundabouts. Nonetheless the concert went quite well and I didn’t feel the need to retire in shame afterwards.
Very fortunately, the organ tuner came to visit Herøy and Dønna the week before my guests arrived. I was not looking forward to letting my dad see this particular organ. I don’t think my organ playing is generally well regarded for its nuance and style, particularly when it come to registration, but in Herøy I had been reduced to literally pulling out almost all the stops, coupling them together and hoping that each note would sound at least one pipe. Of course, I was also worried that I was doing something incredibly stupid but the horror on the tuner’s face was the reassurance I needed. The original plan had been one afternoon/evening in Herøy and then up to Dønna next day to give the Dønnes organ a wee tune. Despite being the oldest instrument, and indeed quite historic, it is working well (apart from a godawful “klunk” when I switch it on) and just needs a little tune. However, the Herøy organ was in such dire need of TLC, that that plan was abandoned. It would appear that vast amounts of dust had enveloped one side of the organ so we ended up taking out hundreds of pipes, cleaning them with damp cloths, and sucking/blowing air through them with an air compressor and vacuum cleaner.
And what a difference - it’s an actual joy to play the instrument now. But of course the next 2 Sundays after the organ was tuned were out on the islands so didn’t get a chance to show it off to the congregation. I have come to the realisation though that one of the subliminal criteria I have for chosing music for these various services is whether the congregation can see me or not. On Dønnes and Herøy I’m up in the organ gallery and quite happily play more substantial pieces when I can’t see if the congregation are getting bored or fidgety. On the islands when I’m sitting at the Johannus keyboard or at the harmonium in front of everybody, the pieces tend to be a lot shorter.
A few months ago, a Ukrainian singer moved to the islands and we’ve had a few opportunities to do some things as a trio. Our first performance was at a very prestigious location - the fish factory on the island. If I’ve picked it up correctly, the company were giving the local councillors a tour of the facilities and in the middle of the tour (and before lunch) we were asked to supply some music. They did seem to appreciate it though my guess is that they weren’t particularly familiar with the music of Louis Spohr and the operas of Vivaldi. The lunch smelled and looked fabulous, but alas that wasn’t included in our fee. Frankly neither was money but hey ho…. We followed this up with another short performance at the adult school up the road where we just repeated the programme.
Following the success of our previous balcony concert Sabine did a repeat of it, but due to the wind, we decided to do it at the front of Sabine’s house. A “not too shabbyl crowd turned up but it has to be said that it’s the first time I’ve played a concert where I’ve worried about a car turning up and driving through the middle of the audience.
Solveig’s granddaughter was visiting again and joined us on our weekly Tirsdagtur. This time I did manage to keep with her the entire way and had a lovely little chat en route. Norwegian and English. And a little bit of French giving the inevitable chance to impress with “My name is Graeme and I’m 12 years old”.
Was still knackered by the time I got to the top though.
While I still appreciate my “idiot’s guide” to the services, I am able to get by better and better without it. That being said, I did mess up one of the intercessions when I actually had the guide in front of me. I think the microphone must have had a moment as I didn’t quite catch what the minister and it certainly seem to match what I had on my sheet. There was silence so I thought I’d better play but as soon as I started playing I thought to myself “I bet he’s just said “in a moment of silence…” but too late now”. And of course that is exactly what had happened. Lesson learned.
PS An update on the “Concerts for Cats”. As mentioned above, on the Saturday they were treated to some Krebs. I think a fair description of their reaction would be “apathetic”. Juliet sat on the sofa while Margot pottered around. For the Sunday concert I had a look on my iPad for some “proper” piano music and spied that I had the Moonlight Sonata. This got a much stronger reaction - Juliet appeared to hide under the sofa and Margot was seen to streak up the stairs at a speed I’ve never seen her move at. In my defence it had been a long time since I had played it all the way through and I’m not great at remembering accidentals.
Where are the pictures of the cats? 🐈 🐈⬛