Many apologies for the lack of posts, work and life seem to have crowded in upon me !
We had the most wonderful two weeks of Skye Song School, the first being tinged with sadness due to the fact one of our Inner Sound members, and staunch Song School supporters, Annabel, finally lost her valiant battle against cancer and peacefully passed away on the last day.
We had been expecting the news from earlier in the week, and so the thoughts of many singers were with her, and in some way made for some even more remarkable performances. Morag G sang the most hauntingly beautiful rendition of The New Ghost by Vaughan Williams, and we all, and indeed she felt it was inspired. It ended our morning on Wednesday and left us all with nothing more to say. The hush in the hall was tangible and real.
Don't think it was not a fun week because it was. Possibly more so with our heartfelt gratitude that Annabel was pain free and cancer free, and she would have been the first to say, sing on, have fun and sing as if each day was the best yet to come ! We had the most hysterical duet from J and P. I SO wish we could have videod The Last Rose of Summer sung by a delightfully youthful P looking and sounding like the Bonnie young lass from Ayrshire, being wooed by a makeshift and rather scruffy William Wallace in the shape of a bewhiskered J, singing in the most frightful imitation of a Lowland Scottish accent, complete with whiskey and other sundries, and bedecked with a kilt, quietly put together from a tartan horse blanket........maybe pictures to follow if I get sent some. Utterly fantastic, and quite how P did not corpse during the performance remains a mystery - what a straight man she is !
There were some truly glorious moments, and it was a very happy group who were so bonded by the end of Friday that many a leaving tear was shed.
It was a very special week which we will all remember with joy and sadness mixed to perfection.
And he cast it down, down, on the green grass,
Over the young crocuses, where the dew was.
He cast the garment of his flesh that was full of death,
And like a sword his spirit showed out of the cold sheath.
He went a pace or two, he went to meet his Lord
And, as I said, his spirit looked like a clean sword,
And seeing him the naked trees began shivering
And all the birds cried out aloud as it were late spring.
And the Lord came on,
He came down, and saw That a soul was waiting there for Him,
one without flaw,
And they embraced in the churchyard where the robins play,
And the daffodils hang down their heads, as they burn away.
The Lord held his head fast, and you could see
That He kissed the unsheathed ghost that was gone free
As a hot sun, on a March day, kisses the cold ground;
And the spirit answered, for he knew well that his peace was found.
The spirit trembled, and sprang up at the Lord's word,
As on a wild April day, springs a small bird,
So the ghost's feet lifting him up, he kissed the Lord's cheek,
And for the greatness of their love neither of them could speak.
But the Lord went then, to show him the way,
Over the young crocuses, under the green may
That was not quite in flower yet, to a far distant land:
And the ghost followed like a naked cloud holding the sun's hand.
Our dear friend Annabel singing 'Silver' by Armstrong Gibbs during our February concert.