Princess culture is everywhere. There's this strange notion, and I'm not quite sure where it came from, that every little girl and every grown up lady has a princess inside of her, just waiting to emerge. Been to a Disney Shop lately? (Disney, I love you and you are my childhood but seriously, do you have any female characters over the age of 5 who are not, or do not become, princesses by the end of the story?).
That's what we all want, right ladies? To be told we are beautiful and to be treated like a princess. Adverts tells us this, film tells us this, I've even seen 'self-help' books and books about being a Christian woman built around the idea that every woman just wants to be a princess (please note, I have never opened this book and after reading the blurb I'm not going to). Now admittedly this is partially true - we are all fearfully and wonderfully made, and if God is King then as His daughters we are all princesses by definition - but in western culture the word princess comes with a pretty specific job description.
It's the job description I have a problem with.
Now maybe it's just my tomboyish childhood (oldest of four kids, co-opted for helping Dad with the DIY, tree-climbing, archery lessons, hours spent reading books which statistically have a higher proportion of male protagonists - the very fact that they are protagonists makes them more likely to be male) but the idea of a being a princess never really appealed to me.
This is first image that appeared when I googled 'Princess'. It makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a spork.
My housemate tells me that this blog makes it sound like I live in a magical fairyland. Of course this isn't true... except sometimes it kind of is. I'm getting adept at finding it now. Magic doesn't come to you if you sit indoors and hope wistfully, you have to go hunt it down. Be prepared to look more closely at ordinary things than perhaps you normally would. Take this weekend for example, when I went back to Norfolk for the day. It's not often I get to go back to my home county (although my parents aren't originally from the area I consider myself a Norfolk girl by adoption). I went home for a birthday party, but that wasn't until the evening so I spent the rest of the day at Weird and Wonderful Wood, a small festival in Haughley, Suffolk, that celebrates all things wood, and the folk that make them.
Mike Booty taught me clarinet while I was in high school. He was the peripatetic music teacher, which meant that once a week I got to skip whatever class I was in and go play music with him instead. Usually it was on a Friday. My main memories of his lessons were of constant good-natured bickering, where he would demand whisky from me on his birthdays (refused because I was a minor) and me demanding to play Disney music on mine (refused because it was rubbish). He would call me a woman and a bad driver, and I would retort that at at least I still had hair. Mike was, and still is, the consummate grumpy old man, and I say that with a great deal of fondness. The kind of person you could have a proper fight with, yet both come out of it grinning.
I did my grades with him as well, all two of them. Mike's theory is that if music should be fun above all things so there was no point my paying to do extra grades just for the sake of having the full set. Growing up in a musical family and dabbling in a few instruments when I was younger meant that I could already read sheet music by the time I got to high school, and understood intuitively the basic principles of music that most beginners have to be taught from scratch, so grades 1 and 2 were somewhat redundant. I did my Grade 3 Practical and then, a year or two later, Grade 5, but then couldn't do any more because we both suddenly remembered that you need a Grade 5 Theory before you can do the higher Practicals and I didn't formally know any. I still don't. I'm currently an untested Grade 7/8 clarinetist with an untested Grade 3 in Theory. I share Mike's opinion of music - that it should be fun first and foremost, so I've never felt the need to go any further, and I get along very well as I am
As well as teaching the private lessons, Mike ran and conducted the Old Buckenhan High School Band and the South Norfolk Youth Symphonic Band (SNYSB), which he formed originally as a marching band of "half a dozen crap brass players". That was in 1974. He also spent some time as a Marine, so while his band rehearsals always adhered to the 'Music is Fun' principle, they also contained an amount of good old-fashioned military discipline. This was much better in practise than it sounds. I actually don't think we knew it was happening when he did it, but even in my current band, six years after moving away, I still do things the way we were taught in SNYSB. Things like 'Concert Etiquette', which is how you behave on stage - the way I hold my instrument at rest, when I raise it, how I take applause, keeping quiet between songs (as Mike used to grouch at us "I see no speaking parts in this! We'll take it from letter O. O for 'Orrible!"), and my attitude towards the conductor. In a band that could have an hundred kids playing in it at once, he demanded professionalism from us.
Once a year we'd have a weekend away where, thanks to his old contacts, we had the privilege of playing with the band of the Royal Marines. You'd learn more in that one weekend by just sitting next to one of them than you would in three months playing by yourself. And because Mike took us so seriously, we did the same to him. Mike is one of those teachers that manages to balance his job as a teacher with his character as a person, and his sense of fun with a real professionalism. Our reputation as a band was built on his dedication. Our progress as individuals was due to his curmudgeonly kindness and the genuine investment he gave to each of us.
I continued to take lessons with Mike through sixth form, but when I moved away to university there wasn't a band I could join that fitted in with my lectures, and I stopped playing for three years. However, when I graduated and was looking for ways to fill my unemployed time, a local band was the first thing I looked for. I ended up finding the Loughborough Concert Band and now I play as a 1st clarinet with them, just for the pleasure of it. Because what Mike said is true. Music is still fun. There's something about the dynamics of playing alongside others that you just can't get practising by yourself. I learned that from Mike.
This year he has turned 70 years old.
On Saturday gone I made the trek down the A14 from Loughborough and wound my way through the tiny country lanes of rural Norfolk to the village hall where Mike Booty's surprise party was being held. (He was indeed surprised!) I owe him a lot, so it was wonderful to be there to show my thanks and support, congratulate him on everything he's achieved, and celebrate his birthday with him. We spent the evening talking and laughing, remembering and being remembered by the other old friends that came to do the same.
Here's to the next decade, Mike. I wish you all the best.
God bless the British and their pig-headed insistance on clinging to holidays they aren't really entitled to! It's been a funny spring really; a very warm March, a very cold and rainy April, but with May (fingers crossed) the weather appears to be sorting itself out. Hopefully just in time for my birthday, which is in a few weeks.
This Bank Holiday weekend has been a very full one for me; despite being ill for the best part of the week and not up to planning much for myself, several little adventures have just fallen into my lap so I've been riding piggy-back on those until I'm back to firing on all cylinders. So in no particular order...
Jubilee Wood
Gouache, 15 mins
The bluebells are out! I've been keeping an eye open and this week I saw a few so I decided to chance the wet weather and go check out my old walks. Just as I got here the skies cleared for an hour or so, and returned just as I was ready to leave.
It was my friend Hannah's birthday this week, so when her brother won some free tickets to Bristol Folk Festival she very kindly asked me and our friend Jamie to go with them! HOORAY!!! The first thing that was needed was a birthday card. I really like making cards that are relevant to the person or what they'e doing to celebrate. Providing I keep having the time to do these things I don't think I'll be able to go back to buying cards from shops. These are just so much more interesting.
On the inside I wrote her a Scavenger Hunt, full of all the things (based on my limitied experience!) I thought we might see. She loved the card, and really took the hunt seriously! It turns out the whole festival is held in one building in the city centre (a very sensible idea considering the weather we've been having lately) so things like wellies and a waxed mac weren't around but she got almost everything else, including three successively more fantastic beards and a couple of extra items we added to the back.
It was a great day, with loads of interesting things to see and do, and some great acts to hear. One of our highlights of the day, and a new discovery for me was Luke Jackson, a 17-year old singer/songwriter with a wonderfully controlled singing voice that would trick you into thinking he's older. Hannah very badly wanted to see him perform but we got held up on the way to the hall and just caught the last two songs. However we serendipitously bumped into him in the corridor later on and Hannah, being the sociable girl she is, immediately struck up a conversation.
Hannah meets Luke
Later on, when one of the acts filled out their hall, he agreed to do a second performance for the stragglers, which we happened to arrive for just at the perfect time! We wandered into a near-empty hall and made a beeline for the very front seats. His set was great, including a really slick version of Wayfaring Stranger, a selection of his own songs, and the haunting traditional tune Oakham Poachers. I think I'm now a fan!
Our other highlight was ahab, a three-part band (normally four but one was off having his appendix taken out, which seems a reasonable excuse. Not that the other lads agreed - they kept fondly mocking him for slacking off) with an American folk feel to their music and some fantastic close harmonies. They came on after a slightly depressing act and really changed the mood by having great laugh on stage. Favourite songs were 'Wagon Wheel', 'Run Me Down', and 'Lightning Bug' and ... well actually the whole set was awesome.
Who needs a PA system? Not us; we have manly man voices and a bobble hat!
In between all that there was Morris Dancing to watch, stalls to investigate, and dulcimer playing to learn. This was my call - I saw the word Dulcimer on a sign and abandoned the others to toddle off and explore. A dulcimer is a member of the zither family (stringed instruments where the strings are no longer than the sounding box) and they had both types there for us to see and try: the 'mountain' or 'lap' dulcimer and the considerably more complicated 'hammer' dulcimer. Within seconds of introducing myself I was sat on a chair with an instrument across my knees. The mountain dulcimer I was shown had two pairs of 'drone' strings that provide the chord, and then one top pair that provides the tune which you play as you would the fretboard on a guitar. You strum all three together as though they were one string, and the result is a deliciously tangy, buzzy sound which is very distinctive. Most of the ones on display were made by dedicated hobbyists and each had it's own personality reflecting that of it's maker.
There was also, as you would expect, a ceilidh to take take part in. It wasn't even a question as to whether or not we would go. Both Hannah and I love ceildh dancing, and with at least fifty people doing every dance there was a great sense of energy in the room. The great thing about ceilidhs is that you don't need any experience to get started because there is a caller yelling out the moves to you, but as you get a bit more advanced you can start adding in your own quirks and tricks. One couple next to us; a small energetic young woman and a tall man in a kilt (who Hannah immediately decided she wanted to dance with!) had clearly done this many times before, but a lot of enthusiasm and a willingness to look a bit silly from the rest of us goes a long way. We did well at some dances and failed dramatically and hilariously at others, I taught Jamie to polka, and Hannah's brother Dave does an excellent do-si-do.
We were sitting down to catch our breath before the last song when the man in a kilt came over to our table and asked me if I'd have the next dance with him. This has never happened to me in my life before:
1) Asked to dance
2) By a man in full Scottish regalia. I believe a lot of Jane Austen books begin that way :)
Obviously I said yes, not sparing a though for the birthday girl. The dance was Strip the Willow, which can be a bit... perilous so it was good to have a partner who knew what they were doing. He even thanked me for the dance afterwards, even though I briefly forgot my left from my right at the beginning. Possibly I was a bit flustered by the kilt-i-ness!
We spontaneously decided to stay late for Karine Polwart and Show of Hands, who were headlining, and Hannah's brother generously put us up for the night. It was such a great day, and lovely to spend so much time with Hannah. My life is very busy, and hers is even moreso, so to have a whole 24 hours just hanging out with her was a real treat. She's one of the coolest, most caring people I know. Although I'll remember all the acts we saw and the big events of the day, some of the best moments were the little inbetween bits. The throwaway comments, the jokes, the discussing, the telling of stories, tiny things we'll probably never recall exactly but which make spending time with the people you like best really worth it.
