Why does anyone still use aerosol antiperspirant? I stopped when I was a teenager when, left coughing from a cloud of fumes, I finally read the label and thought "Do I really want to breath in this stuff? If it's designed to keep my armpits dry, imagine what it's doing to my lungs!".
Switching to a roll-on, I gave up on the scented varieties when a classmate asked me, "What is that perfume you're always wearing? It's really nice". It was Rexona - all I remember now about the scent is that it was the green one. Embarrassed, I sought out something non-scented.
Over the years, I've tried most brands of non-scented roll-on: Revlon (don't leave the cap off, it evaporates); Old Spice in a stick (sold for men, but it worked very well on me and there was no scent); Mitcham, etc. The most irritating fact about them is that they are marketed almost exclusively for men. Trying to find a non-scented roll-on? Look in men's toiletries. (As an aside, why do women still wear a scented antiperspirant when they're wearing a completely different perfume? Hasn't someone taught them about the fragrances clashing?)
For the last 6 years, I've used a crystal deodorant and been very happy with the results. Not only is it economical: each 125g crystal lasts about three years and costs about the same as two thingies of Mitcham; but there have been very few days when my nose has wrinkled and my brain has gone "Uh oh! I can smell me!" (certainly no more than with the other products I've tried). The best parts have been the lack of marks on clothing (what is it in antiperspirants that turn t-shirts to cardboard?), the lack of sting after shaving and the drying time (rub the dry crystal on shower damp skin and, before you've towel dried the rest of you, it's dry).
The biggest problem had been sourcing them. In 2002, when I first decided to use a crystal deodorant, I scoured the shops and supermarkets and couldn't find one: Boots, Superdrug, Holland & Barrett, The Body Shop, all came up bare. I eventually purchased my first two crystal sticks in my sister's local health food shop on a visit home ($4 each plus a £700 airfare). Now even sourcing them isn't a problem; following the increased interest in green products, all of those shops now stock crystal deodorants and Holland & Barrett even sell multiple brands.
The only time I didn't use my crystal deodorant was when I travelled - then I'd revert to a roll-on because I didn't want to risk damaging/wasting/losing my precious crystal.
Fast forward to a couple of months ago: last year, I "scored" a couple of sample packs of Nivea products which included a travel sized spray-on antiperspirant, so I took one with me when I went to Site. My God! The fumes! In my regular hotel, I developed a routine of spray on the damn thing in the bathroom and rush into the bedroom to dry off, closing the bathroom door to let the exhaust fan clear away the smell. Eventually, I'd return to the bathroom once it had dissipated.
For my October Site visit, I left it until it was too late to get a room at the regular hotel so had to stay at one of the weirder hotels in the neighbourhood. On the surface, this hotel looks perfectly OK - the rooms are clean and stylish, the menu is good, the staff friendly. Scratch the surface and you'll find weird bits. The owners have an animal-print fetish, using (probably) fake horses hide to decorate chairs, pillows, bed heads. This time, my bedroom had a bathroom alcove - there was no dividing wall between the bathroom and the bedroom! This time, there was no escaping from the fumes. NEVER AGAIN.
No wonder people have asthma attacks after using spray-on deodorants. No matter how careful you try to be, the fumes will get in your face. And without a powerful exhaust fan, they take forever to dissipate.
As for me: the Nivea spray ended up in the bin. I can no longer even tolerate its scent. I now have a travel sized crystal and that's what I'll be taking with me from now on.
- Pam
Saturday, 29 November 2008
Friday, 28 November 2008
Feeling my inner Nerd
I got distracted this afternoon. The plan was to finish work at 12.30, come home and take some FO photographs and put them up on the blog. The reality was leaving the office at 1.30pm, getting home just in time to enjoy listening to Kermode live, log on to the home computer and ....... Where did the time go?
The time went on a new-to-me blog that I've discovered: Nerd Girl a.k.a. Jennifer Gardy. Today's post will sound familiar to anyone who has ever worked in an environment where the deliverables don't rely on just following a process. Jennifer calls it "The Daily Grind of Trying to Find Nobel-worthy Results". If you substitute Spider Solitaire with "read Motley Fool" and "find Nobel-worthy Results" with "generate invoice", she could be describing my average day.
The second or third post on the blog distracted me still further. Where do I fit in the Nerd-Geek-Dork Continuum? Am I a Geek, a Nerd or (heavens, no!) a Dork? Nobody wants to be a Dork! We all know Dorks - the socially inept (usually) male who is OK on his own but you wouldn't want your friends to meet him.
I don't think I'm a Geek. When I was a Finance Systems Trainer, I used to joke "I'm not a geek, but I've played on on television". I've worked with plenty of Geeks. You ask them a simple question, like: if I do X in Credit Control, does that impact on Y? And two hours later, you still don't know the answer but you now now how Credit Control links up with the rest of Accounts Receivable, including which automatic accounting instructions are needed to drive the system.
I've always thought of myself as a bit of a Nerd. I like learning. I enjoy sitting in a classroom being taught something. I'm more likely to watch documentaries than soap operas on TV. If there is a topic I'm interested in (i.e. how people survived on the home front in World War 2), I'll read whatever I can get my hands on. But what divides me from being a Geek, I think, is that I don't preach about what I know. I don't think the rest of the world will be as interested as I am.
In trepidation, I did the test.
[ Drum Roll, please! ]
Ta Da!
Ladies and Gentlemen, I am 79% Nerd, 39% Geek and 35% Dork.
- Pam
The time went on a new-to-me blog that I've discovered: Nerd Girl a.k.a. Jennifer Gardy. Today's post will sound familiar to anyone who has ever worked in an environment where the deliverables don't rely on just following a process. Jennifer calls it "The Daily Grind of Trying to Find Nobel-worthy Results". If you substitute Spider Solitaire with "read Motley Fool" and "find Nobel-worthy Results" with "generate invoice", she could be describing my average day.
The second or third post on the blog distracted me still further. Where do I fit in the Nerd-Geek-Dork Continuum? Am I a Geek, a Nerd or (heavens, no!) a Dork? Nobody wants to be a Dork! We all know Dorks - the socially inept (usually) male who is OK on his own but you wouldn't want your friends to meet him.
I don't think I'm a Geek. When I was a Finance Systems Trainer, I used to joke "I'm not a geek, but I've played on on television". I've worked with plenty of Geeks. You ask them a simple question, like: if I do X in Credit Control, does that impact on Y? And two hours later, you still don't know the answer but you now now how Credit Control links up with the rest of Accounts Receivable, including which automatic accounting instructions are needed to drive the system.
I've always thought of myself as a bit of a Nerd. I like learning. I enjoy sitting in a classroom being taught something. I'm more likely to watch documentaries than soap operas on TV. If there is a topic I'm interested in (i.e. how people survived on the home front in World War 2), I'll read whatever I can get my hands on. But what divides me from being a Geek, I think, is that I don't preach about what I know. I don't think the rest of the world will be as interested as I am.
In trepidation, I did the test.
[ Drum Roll, please! ]
Ta Da!
Ladies and Gentlemen, I am 79% Nerd, 39% Geek and 35% Dork.
- Pam
Sunday, 23 November 2008
Radio - someone still loves you!
Back in April, I was driving into work when I turned a corner and the usually crystal-clear car radio went "buzz!". Static. Interference. Call it what you will. I lost the AM stations and most of the FM stations in one right-hand bend. Disaster!
I'm an avid radio listener. Talk radio, rock music, pop music, classical - I listen to the lot depending on my mood. Most of the time, I listen to talk radio. Music is fine, but on long journeys I want information, company and entertainment not just background music. And in Britain, that means BBC Radio Five, which is only broadcast on AM and DAB digital frequencies. Radio Five delivers news and interviews, sports commentary, book review, film reviews and the occasional phone-in.
I sought advice: check the connections, particularly if it isn't the one originally installed. Apparently, they become loose. That made sense; it's not the original radio (a few Christmases ago, DH bought me one that played CDs instead of the original one which played tapes). But I couldn't figure out how to get it out, so took it to the garage and they had a go. Miraculously, they re-established reception of most of my channels. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. The mechanics suggested replacing the antenna at the next service - not just the aerial, but the whole thing. The next service came and went. "We're sorry, but we can't get the radio out, so we can't change the antenna." I was disappointed. The radio still worked, not brilliantly but at least I could hear most things, some of the time. It just wasn't reliable.
The CD player works, but there are only so many times I can listen to the same audio book before getting bored. Having bought a new MP3 player, I sort out podcasts. Radio Five does several: the book program, Mark Kermode's film reviews, various finance broadcasts, etc. I'm up to date with the shows I love, but sadly they don't keep an archive. More recently, I've sought out the various knitting podcasts out there: Cast-On, Yarn Thing (hello, Marly-mad-woman! I love listening to you), She Knits, and Knitty Nora are the most noteworthy.
Podcasts have opened up another window on the world for me. Most are amateur - people who just have something to say and want to share it with you. I've come to the conclusion that the best knitting podcasts are like the best blogs: it's like having a good conversation with a friend. Yarn Thing has to be the best of the lot: fun, entertaining and Marly's laugh is contagious. If you have never listened to a podcast, I suggest you start with Yarn Thing. My trips to Site are 4 hours each way - I've been up there three times in the last five weeks - and listened to the entire archive of Yarn Thing on the way. And I still want to hear more! Surely that is the best recommendation there can be.
- Pam (got to get the radio fixed. It's lost the AM stations again, so there's no football and no cricket in my car and I can't live without them.)
I'm an avid radio listener. Talk radio, rock music, pop music, classical - I listen to the lot depending on my mood. Most of the time, I listen to talk radio. Music is fine, but on long journeys I want information, company and entertainment not just background music. And in Britain, that means BBC Radio Five, which is only broadcast on AM and DAB digital frequencies. Radio Five delivers news and interviews, sports commentary, book review, film reviews and the occasional phone-in.
I sought advice: check the connections, particularly if it isn't the one originally installed. Apparently, they become loose. That made sense; it's not the original radio (a few Christmases ago, DH bought me one that played CDs instead of the original one which played tapes). But I couldn't figure out how to get it out, so took it to the garage and they had a go. Miraculously, they re-established reception of most of my channels. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. The mechanics suggested replacing the antenna at the next service - not just the aerial, but the whole thing. The next service came and went. "We're sorry, but we can't get the radio out, so we can't change the antenna." I was disappointed. The radio still worked, not brilliantly but at least I could hear most things, some of the time. It just wasn't reliable.
The CD player works, but there are only so many times I can listen to the same audio book before getting bored. Having bought a new MP3 player, I sort out podcasts. Radio Five does several: the book program, Mark Kermode's film reviews, various finance broadcasts, etc. I'm up to date with the shows I love, but sadly they don't keep an archive. More recently, I've sought out the various knitting podcasts out there: Cast-On, Yarn Thing (hello, Marly-mad-woman! I love listening to you), She Knits, and Knitty Nora are the most noteworthy.
Podcasts have opened up another window on the world for me. Most are amateur - people who just have something to say and want to share it with you. I've come to the conclusion that the best knitting podcasts are like the best blogs: it's like having a good conversation with a friend. Yarn Thing has to be the best of the lot: fun, entertaining and Marly's laugh is contagious. If you have never listened to a podcast, I suggest you start with Yarn Thing. My trips to Site are 4 hours each way - I've been up there three times in the last five weeks - and listened to the entire archive of Yarn Thing on the way. And I still want to hear more! Surely that is the best recommendation there can be.
- Pam (got to get the radio fixed. It's lost the AM stations again, so there's no football and no cricket in my car and I can't live without them.)
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
Where was I before I was rudely interrupted?
Yay! My laptop is working. It took six weeks to sort out. I felt as if I'd had my voice switched off. Blogging from work isn't practical (or safe, job-wise) and I hate using DH's computer when he's around - I feel as if I'm depriving him of something.
What caused the Blue Screen of Death? A virus infecting the boot directory. Don't know where it came from, although I suspect it was attached to a midi-file player I downloaded. The advice I was given really didn't help the process, either; running CHKDSK broke the computer because it crashed in the middle and damaged the ability to run in Safe Mode. Here is what I learned:-
What caused the Blue Screen of Death? A virus infecting the boot directory. Don't know where it came from, although I suspect it was attached to a midi-file player I downloaded. The advice I was given really didn't help the process, either; running CHKDSK broke the computer because it crashed in the middle and damaged the ability to run in Safe Mode. Here is what I learned:-
- CHKDSK will not solve the problem and could make it worse.
- If you have auto-reboot set up, disable it so that you can read the Blue Screen of Death. This option will appear when you start the computer and hit F8 (the same key that gives you Safe Mode). You need to record the error message (all gazillion digits of it), to help decipher the cause.
- The most useful website for information belongs to Dell. (My next computer will be a Dell.) Everything I learned to solve this problem, I learned from the Dell website last week, after DH's computer also developed the Blue Screen of Death. Dell has a downloadable fix that worked on DH's PC. Use "Safe Mode with Networking" to access and download.
- The second most useful place for information was McAfee. I emailed them asking what I needed to do to re-install their anti-virus software before I wiped the laptop. They also sent me a link to a fix, but by this time the laptop was so corrupted I couldn't boot in Safe Mode. Thank you McAfee, your customer service is superb.
- Windows XP has a special "reinstallation" mode which means you don't need to reformat your hard drive first - it overwrites the existing software leaving everything else intact. Put the Windows CD into the CD drive and then boot up the computer. Sadly, it Blue Screened in the middle of the reinstall, so I bit the bullet and went to Plan D.
- Plan D was to wipe the hard drive and reinstall everything, which I did last night. This was another option on the Windows CD.
- The most useless website for information belonged to Fujitsu Siemens, the makers of this expensive near-doorstop. Try searching it for "Blue Screen" - you will find absolutely nothing useful. Yet another reason why I won't buy another laptop from them.
- The most important thing you can do is run regular back-ups. When the Blue Screen of Death first appeared, I took a complete copy of My Documents and placed it on our external hard drive. It's better to use a program like McAfee, but I couldn't get that to work at the time.
Wednesday, 8 October 2008
To the famous bloke in the Lotus
If you really want to remain incogneto, don't drive a flashy motor! if you must drive a green Lotus with a yellow go faster skunk-stripe, expect to be looked at. Honestly, I was checking out your car, not you.
I was queuing at the roundabout yesterday morning near work when I spotted a flashy car. So I had a look at the car and glanced at the driver. Recognised him from somewhere. Thought, "I know you". Had another look and realised it was an actor, who was a tad pissed off that he'd been recognised. It was Robert Powell.
- Pam
I was queuing at the roundabout yesterday morning near work when I spotted a flashy car. So I had a look at the car and glanced at the driver. Recognised him from somewhere. Thought, "I know you". Had another look and realised it was an actor, who was a tad pissed off that he'd been recognised. It was Robert Powell.
- Pam
Quick update (posting from work)
To put it bluntly, I think my laptop is buggered. It's had the computer equivalent of a major stroke. Even CHKDSK can't complete before the Blue Screen Of Death shuts it down. I am considering taking it to the computer-doctors.
Posting from me will be intermittent for a while. Sorry folks.
- Pam
Posting from me will be intermittent for a while. Sorry folks.
- Pam
Saturday, 4 October 2008
Bugger! I killed the laptop
I was mid-way through a post when it failed! It went into a re-booting loop. I've started it in safe mode, tried the "restore last good settings" feature (which failed) and am now backing up my files. I know, theoretically, that the next step is to reformat the damn thing and then reinstall Windows, etc, but I've never done it. Can anyone tell me what I'm to expect?
- Pam
- Pam
Saturday, 27 September 2008
Second fog
My prediction is that it will be a cold, harsh winter here in the UK. We didn't have much of a summer (it was wet and cold, even by British standards), but waking up to the second fog of the season this morning was still a bit of a shock. I'm wearing my knee-high ugg boots as insulation against the draught that breezes past the couch.
Since when did we get fogs in September? OK, I've only been here 19 years, but that is 19 Septembers. September is normally "good" weather: late summer days, warm, not much rain. Not this year. This year, I've been wearing my trench coat to work - and I drive(!) - complete with the warm lining zipped in. This year, we had our first fog nearly four weeks ago, at about the same time as the I-Knit-London-Day*.
I haven't blogged much this month. Not that I haven't had things to say - I frequently write blog posts in my head - but work sapped most of my intelligence so that when I finally sat down to write all that came out was "wibble". It was easier to reach for the knitting needles than the laptop in the evenings (even then, I couldn't cope with checking patterns so abandoned several things whenever I hit a pattern change). Oh, how I needed a holiday! I told one friend, "I'm too stressed out by work to even think about what I'm cooking for dinner!" (highly unusual for me, food being top of my mental agenda).
DH and I took this week off as annual leave. I've been looking forward to it for weeks. Our goals: sleep, rest, recuperate and spend time together. We've barely left the house. It's been wonderful. I now feel more "me".
The break has been great for my knitting, too. I've finished the third sleeve of the Must have cardigan and now only have to sew it up and knit the bands. (Remember, I didn't have enough of the original yarn so had to frog the first sleeve to integrate the new yarn.) I've also completed my [cough] crochetted [cough] pink, fluffy, double-ruffled scarf (using the charity shop yarn). And have been working on a pair of fingerless gloves using some leftover DK alpaca from my stash (I'm on version 3 - versions 1 and 2 were far too big for my small hands, so I've thrown out the pattern books). Photos and patterns** will be published in due course.
One thing is for sure, when the cold spell I'm predicting really hits, I will be prepared.
- Pam
* My big regret is that I didn't use that opportunity to buy more Alpaca for gloves. A couple of years ago, I knitted a pair of fingerless-gloves-mitten-combos in DK alpaca for my MIL (inspired by Subway Knitter's urban necessities). Now, I want a pair for myself. And I want to perfect the pattern I created then.
** Yes, patterns. I won't be compromising anyone else's copywright. I've taken ideas from other places but these designs are essentially mine. To some extent, all patterns are derivative (just look at the thousands of sock patterns published). What makes them unique is what the designer does with the components: "I'll take those sleeves, this cable and that neckline, please, with a side order of mohair trim".
Since when did we get fogs in September? OK, I've only been here 19 years, but that is 19 Septembers. September is normally "good" weather: late summer days, warm, not much rain. Not this year. This year, I've been wearing my trench coat to work - and I drive(!) - complete with the warm lining zipped in. This year, we had our first fog nearly four weeks ago, at about the same time as the I-Knit-London-Day*.
I haven't blogged much this month. Not that I haven't had things to say - I frequently write blog posts in my head - but work sapped most of my intelligence so that when I finally sat down to write all that came out was "wibble". It was easier to reach for the knitting needles than the laptop in the evenings (even then, I couldn't cope with checking patterns so abandoned several things whenever I hit a pattern change). Oh, how I needed a holiday! I told one friend, "I'm too stressed out by work to even think about what I'm cooking for dinner!" (highly unusual for me, food being top of my mental agenda).
DH and I took this week off as annual leave. I've been looking forward to it for weeks. Our goals: sleep, rest, recuperate and spend time together. We've barely left the house. It's been wonderful. I now feel more "me".
The break has been great for my knitting, too. I've finished the third sleeve of the Must have cardigan and now only have to sew it up and knit the bands. (Remember, I didn't have enough of the original yarn so had to frog the first sleeve to integrate the new yarn.) I've also completed my [cough] crochetted [cough] pink, fluffy, double-ruffled scarf (using the charity shop yarn). And have been working on a pair of fingerless gloves using some leftover DK alpaca from my stash (I'm on version 3 - versions 1 and 2 were far too big for my small hands, so I've thrown out the pattern books). Photos and patterns** will be published in due course.
One thing is for sure, when the cold spell I'm predicting really hits, I will be prepared.
- Pam
* My big regret is that I didn't use that opportunity to buy more Alpaca for gloves. A couple of years ago, I knitted a pair of fingerless-gloves-mitten-combos in DK alpaca for my MIL (inspired by Subway Knitter's urban necessities). Now, I want a pair for myself. And I want to perfect the pattern I created then.
** Yes, patterns. I won't be compromising anyone else's copywright. I've taken ideas from other places but these designs are essentially mine. To some extent, all patterns are derivative (just look at the thousands of sock patterns published). What makes them unique is what the designer does with the components: "I'll take those sleeves, this cable and that neckline, please, with a side order of mohair trim".
Tuesday, 9 September 2008
Co-incidence?
I saw my Dad tonight.
No, I wasn't seeing things. It wasn't a ghost (even though he's been dead since 1989). Rather, it was a double. I was watching the Jerry Springer episode of the BBC's excellent, Who do you think you are? which we videoed a couple of weeks ago. In it, Jerry talked to Tony Grenville of the Association of Jewish Refugees. Tony looks so much like my father, it is uncanny. He has his ears, his chin, his mouth.
Watch the segment (shown half way down this page). You never see a full frontal shot of his face but. Oh. My. God. The expressions! It was like watching my Dad 30 years ago. He has got to be a cousin.
How ironic that I saw this today. It would have been Dad's 93rd birthday today.
- Pam
No, I wasn't seeing things. It wasn't a ghost (even though he's been dead since 1989). Rather, it was a double. I was watching the Jerry Springer episode of the BBC's excellent, Who do you think you are? which we videoed a couple of weeks ago. In it, Jerry talked to Tony Grenville of the Association of Jewish Refugees. Tony looks so much like my father, it is uncanny. He has his ears, his chin, his mouth.
Watch the segment (shown half way down this page). You never see a full frontal shot of his face but. Oh. My. God. The expressions! It was like watching my Dad 30 years ago. He has got to be a cousin.How ironic that I saw this today. It would have been Dad's 93rd birthday today.
- Pam
Saturday, 6 September 2008
Meeting a "rock star"
Today, I met the Yarn Harlot
and gave her some beer
in beer cozies (aka stubby holders).
We met at the I Knit London Day.
It was a brilliant day. Stephanie Pearl-McPhee is lovely: funny, friendly, the sort of girl you'd love to be your best friend. A knitting rock star! There were hundreds of people queuing up to meet her
and she was lovely and gracious to each and every one.
Thank you for a great day, Stephanie. I'm tired* from shopping and queuing, you must be exhausted from talking and signing and being "on stage" for hours.
- Pam
PS: And a big "Thank you" to DH, who not only braved a day full of yarn and knitters (as a complete muggle), but also carried everything for me, gave me yarn(!) and took the photos.
* My back is killing me again.
and gave her some beer
in beer cozies (aka stubby holders).
We met at the I Knit London Day.
It was a brilliant day. Stephanie Pearl-McPhee is lovely: funny, friendly, the sort of girl you'd love to be your best friend. A knitting rock star! There were hundreds of people queuing up to meet her
and she was lovely and gracious to each and every one.Thank you for a great day, Stephanie. I'm tired* from shopping and queuing, you must be exhausted from talking and signing and being "on stage" for hours.
- Pam
PS: And a big "Thank you" to DH, who not only braved a day full of yarn and knitters (as a complete muggle), but also carried everything for me, gave me yarn(!) and took the photos.
* My back is killing me again.
Thursday, 28 August 2008
Note to Self
When listening to MP3 player at work, do not dance along to The Divine Comedy's National Express. It is so not flattering, particularly since nobody else can hear it.
- Pam (super dork)
- Pam (super dork)
Wednesday, 27 August 2008
Accessibility versus Dumbing Down
Last night, we attended another Proms Concert, this one a celebration of the life of Vaughan Williams on the 50th anniversary of his death. (A really good concert, BTW. Listen if you get the chance.) During the second interval, I had a chat with a friend who works in one of the Orchestra Departments at the BBC. To protect her identity, I'll call her "Scully".
Scully said that one of the biggest concerns within her part of the BBC is that classical music is considered elitist. The implied assumption is that only rich people listen to classical music and, therefore, the money would be better spent on something that is popular "down in da 'hood". So the orchestras have to fight for their existence.
All the way home, I steamed in indignation. I'm still having problems putting my indignation into words. I think it boils down to this: this country is still class ridden, with the biggest snobs being those who make assumptions about others likes and tastes based on class. Consider the rubbish that was written about James Blunt when he first appeared on the music scene; the press were suprised that someone of his background (Harrow School, Sandhurst, the Guards) would be into pop music (the implication being that "posh people" don't do pop music. Absolute tosh!).
I think I've mentioned before that I passionately resent people making assumptions about me. Australia is basically classless - if its society is stratified, then it's Middle Class vs Rich, and the only differences are where you live, what you drive and how much money you take home. In British terms, the suburb I grew up in and the local high school (where I first learned the flute) are probably working class. Nobody had a lot of money but it didn't matter - we weren't limited by our "class". My dad worked in a factory; the first time I went to the theatre, it was organised by their social club (Oklahoma, I think, at Her Majesty's Theatre).
If the BBC snobs have their way and cut the orchestras, then it's people like me who will suffer. I got into classical music because I was exposed to it at school. As a result, I learned the flute and sang in the choir. Our education district ran an annual music camp, filled with kids from Springvale, Frankston, Dandenong and Doveton - not wealthy suburbs by any means. I think I was 17 before I went to my first "professional" classical concert, with paid musicians, and where I wasn't involved somehow in the music making.
One of the best things the BBC does RIGHT NOW is to make classical music accessible to everyone. You just have to turn on the radio or the TV (NB: about half the Proms are televised on either BBC2 or BBC4). The BBC orchestras spend a lot of time and money on out-reach programs. They support the Proms, where the cheapest tickets are £6 and all children get in for half price. There are special "Family Proms" events where everyone gets a chance to make music and meet the orchestra. I'm not sure what else the orchestras can do.
To me, the real question is this: when real music lessons aren't available at school, how do you recruit the next generation of listeners/musicians? (The very basic music syllabus for the National Curriculum doesn't include learning how to read music.) Also, how do you break down the snobbery that assumes that to play classical music means you have to be called Tristram, own half of Surrey and dislike pop music?
If I was God for the day, I'd change the school syllabus but until that happens, we need a different solution. I puzzled over this for several hours. Classical music has to be made "normal", in a country where the focus for the last thirty years has been dumbing things down. If the snobs at the BBC had their way, they'd have the orchestral musicians playing "garage" to kids when they tour schools instead of Vaughan Williams.
Finally, I came up with a solution for the BBC. Insert some classical musicians into their working-class, soap opera, Eastenders. Portray the musicians as real people, practising their instruments and drinking in the Old Vic. Have them lug a cello through the street market on their way to work, playing for a professional orchestra. Give them a mockney accent like the rest of the cast. Have the drinkers at the Old Vic go along to a concert to support their mate (and don't turn it into a stupid comedy moment). Make classical music normal in the East End.
What do you think?
- Pam (out of time but not out of words)
Scully said that one of the biggest concerns within her part of the BBC is that classical music is considered elitist. The implied assumption is that only rich people listen to classical music and, therefore, the money would be better spent on something that is popular "down in da 'hood". So the orchestras have to fight for their existence.
All the way home, I steamed in indignation. I'm still having problems putting my indignation into words. I think it boils down to this: this country is still class ridden, with the biggest snobs being those who make assumptions about others likes and tastes based on class. Consider the rubbish that was written about James Blunt when he first appeared on the music scene; the press were suprised that someone of his background (Harrow School, Sandhurst, the Guards) would be into pop music (the implication being that "posh people" don't do pop music. Absolute tosh!).
I think I've mentioned before that I passionately resent people making assumptions about me. Australia is basically classless - if its society is stratified, then it's Middle Class vs Rich, and the only differences are where you live, what you drive and how much money you take home. In British terms, the suburb I grew up in and the local high school (where I first learned the flute) are probably working class. Nobody had a lot of money but it didn't matter - we weren't limited by our "class". My dad worked in a factory; the first time I went to the theatre, it was organised by their social club (Oklahoma, I think, at Her Majesty's Theatre).
If the BBC snobs have their way and cut the orchestras, then it's people like me who will suffer. I got into classical music because I was exposed to it at school. As a result, I learned the flute and sang in the choir. Our education district ran an annual music camp, filled with kids from Springvale, Frankston, Dandenong and Doveton - not wealthy suburbs by any means. I think I was 17 before I went to my first "professional" classical concert, with paid musicians, and where I wasn't involved somehow in the music making.
One of the best things the BBC does RIGHT NOW is to make classical music accessible to everyone. You just have to turn on the radio or the TV (NB: about half the Proms are televised on either BBC2 or BBC4). The BBC orchestras spend a lot of time and money on out-reach programs. They support the Proms, where the cheapest tickets are £6 and all children get in for half price. There are special "Family Proms" events where everyone gets a chance to make music and meet the orchestra. I'm not sure what else the orchestras can do.
To me, the real question is this: when real music lessons aren't available at school, how do you recruit the next generation of listeners/musicians? (The very basic music syllabus for the National Curriculum doesn't include learning how to read music.) Also, how do you break down the snobbery that assumes that to play classical music means you have to be called Tristram, own half of Surrey and dislike pop music?
If I was God for the day, I'd change the school syllabus but until that happens, we need a different solution. I puzzled over this for several hours. Classical music has to be made "normal", in a country where the focus for the last thirty years has been dumbing things down. If the snobs at the BBC had their way, they'd have the orchestral musicians playing "garage" to kids when they tour schools instead of Vaughan Williams.
Finally, I came up with a solution for the BBC. Insert some classical musicians into their working-class, soap opera, Eastenders. Portray the musicians as real people, practising their instruments and drinking in the Old Vic. Have them lug a cello through the street market on their way to work, playing for a professional orchestra. Give them a mockney accent like the rest of the cast. Have the drinkers at the Old Vic go along to a concert to support their mate (and don't turn it into a stupid comedy moment). Make classical music normal in the East End.
What do you think?
- Pam (out of time but not out of words)
Final Olympic Report
So how did you all do?
Me? I ended up invalided out. I pulled a muscle in my back and spent the weekend in considerable pain. It was only a little niggle last Wednesday, after I attempted a particularly poor Pilates DVD, somewhere below the tip of the right shoulder blade. The aerobics I did on Friday aggravated it and by Saturday morning, I had pains all across my right flank (sort of where the oblique muscles are). DH covered me in ibuprofen gel but I really only got relief after I remembered the heat-packs my sister gave me one birthday.
Still, I think I deserve a bronze medal for all that.
- Pam
Me? I ended up invalided out. I pulled a muscle in my back and spent the weekend in considerable pain. It was only a little niggle last Wednesday, after I attempted a particularly poor Pilates DVD, somewhere below the tip of the right shoulder blade. The aerobics I did on Friday aggravated it and by Saturday morning, I had pains all across my right flank (sort of where the oblique muscles are). DH covered me in ibuprofen gel but I really only got relief after I remembered the heat-packs my sister gave me one birthday.
Still, I think I deserve a bronze medal for all that.
- Pam
Monday, 25 August 2008
The unlucky sock
Remember the sock that I had to frog because it would fit an elephant instead of DH? Well, I've had more traumas with it. I was 2/3 of the way up the toe on Saturday when I noticed a hole about two inches below. Couldn't figure out how it was formed. For a few minutes, I debated whether to just run a thread around it/through it but it fell right where the edge of DH's foot would meet his shoe and would probably rub.
Reluctantly, carefully, I frogged it back, counting the rows below the toe decreases so that I could accurately return the sock to the same length. The hole was caused by an accidental yarn over, right where I'd moved from one dpn to the next. (To prevent a ladder, I always knit through the back of the loop in the first stitch, yarn over the needle instead of under, which makes a tight stitch that faces the right way. Somehow, I'd brought the yarn from the wrong side.)
I picked up the stitches and knitted frantically through yesterday's Olympic's closing ceremony. Since we had a Prom Concert last night, I was determined to have a new sock on my needles rather than run out of sock half way through the concert. At about 8pm (the concert was at 10), I grafted the toe. Big sigh of relief. "Great," I thought, "I'll just roll up a new skein of yarn and I'll be ready for tonight".
For some reason, at that point I compared the sock to it's pair. Yes, they were the same length and width. Good. But what was this? Uh, oh. Something didn't look right. In denial, I held them both up to show DH. Somehow, I'd managed to knit the toe sideways!
Thank God I hadn't woven in the end!
- Pam (frogged it back again, this morning. Third time lucky?)
Reluctantly, carefully, I frogged it back, counting the rows below the toe decreases so that I could accurately return the sock to the same length. The hole was caused by an accidental yarn over, right where I'd moved from one dpn to the next. (To prevent a ladder, I always knit through the back of the loop in the first stitch, yarn over the needle instead of under, which makes a tight stitch that faces the right way. Somehow, I'd brought the yarn from the wrong side.)
I picked up the stitches and knitted frantically through yesterday's Olympic's closing ceremony. Since we had a Prom Concert last night, I was determined to have a new sock on my needles rather than run out of sock half way through the concert. At about 8pm (the concert was at 10), I grafted the toe. Big sigh of relief. "Great," I thought, "I'll just roll up a new skein of yarn and I'll be ready for tonight".
For some reason, at that point I compared the sock to it's pair. Yes, they were the same length and width. Good. But what was this? Uh, oh. Something didn't look right. In denial, I held them both up to show DH. Somehow, I'd managed to knit the toe sideways!
Thank God I hadn't woven in the end!
- Pam (frogged it back again, this morning. Third time lucky?)
Sunday, 24 August 2008
Discord
It occurs to me that I haven't talked much about this year's Prom Concerts. We aren't going to as many as last year and have managed to miss two of the ones we were to attend, thanks to MIL's ulcer (all healed up now) and being far to knackered to drive into London for a 10pm concert (we listened to it instead on the radio).
Still, there are a few moments that have been blog-worthy, particularly the time when the man next to me asked if I always knitted at the Proms. "Yes," I said, wary that I might be about to get bollocked. "I saw you at the last concert we attended. We sat behind you. Did you enjoy the ...[insert forgotten composition here]...?". He then asked me about my sock, commenting "It isn't much bigger than last week!". OMG - I'm turning into one of the features of the Proms, the Knitting Lady!
Then there was the "Dead Cat" Prom, on Sunday 10th August. The program included two World Premiers:-
MacRae's Gaudete was music to slit your wrist by. There's no polite way to describe it. The soprano soloist sounded like a wounded cat mourning her lost territory. I can't blame the musicians - technically, it was a difficult piece and they acquitted themselves well. I'm not even sure I can blame the composer; his task was to take Ted Hughes' horribly depressing book of poems about death and turn it into classical music. Check out MacRae's programme notes.
Thank God for the Elgar. Helen had brought along her ?9-year old niece. If the concert had finished with Gaudete, the poor kid would have been left with nightmares.
The other memorable Prom was this Friday night's:-
The Stockhausen, on the other hand... Skip it. It is 27 minutes of discord, based on his theory of pointillism. I can't fault the musicians - it is a very difficult piece to play and, as far as I can tell, they did a good job. But it is a discordant mess without any themes on which to hang your musical hat.
To me, the Stockhausen is an example of what went wrong with 20th Century music. Somewhere in the middle of century, composers (and critics) turned their backs on melody - it was uncool and old-fashioned. Critics still do it: film theme-music and musicals are sneered at for being "populist", as if only unpopular music can be considered any good. The more obscure, the better as far as they are concerned. I'm sure the Dead Cat music got full marks from the critics.
We've heard three new pieces this year, the two above and Jason Yarde's Rhythm and Other Fascinations. Only the Yarde was memorable for the right reasons: he focused on melody and rhythm. Whilst you can hear his jazz influences, he's composed something new and fresh. I bet he was slated by the critics. If you get the chance, keep an ear out for it.
Tonight, we're going to another late night concert: Bach's cello suites 1, 2, and 3. I'll let you know if it is blog-worthy.
- Pam
* You have until Friday 29th August to listen to the concert via the BBC's "Listen Again" service. It's in 3 downloads. Skip part two to miss the Stockhausen.
Still, there are a few moments that have been blog-worthy, particularly the time when the man next to me asked if I always knitted at the Proms. "Yes," I said, wary that I might be about to get bollocked. "I saw you at the last concert we attended. We sat behind you. Did you enjoy the ...[insert forgotten composition here]...?". He then asked me about my sock, commenting "It isn't much bigger than last week!". OMG - I'm turning into one of the features of the Proms, the Knitting Lady!
Then there was the "Dead Cat" Prom, on Sunday 10th August. The program included two World Premiers:-
- Sibelius Night Ride and Sunrise
- Michael Berkeley Slow Dawn (World premier of this version)
- Stuart MacRae Gaudete (BBC commission and world premier)
- Elgar Enigma Variations (30 mins)
MacRae's Gaudete was music to slit your wrist by. There's no polite way to describe it. The soprano soloist sounded like a wounded cat mourning her lost territory. I can't blame the musicians - technically, it was a difficult piece and they acquitted themselves well. I'm not even sure I can blame the composer; his task was to take Ted Hughes' horribly depressing book of poems about death and turn it into classical music. Check out MacRae's programme notes.
Thank God for the Elgar. Helen had brought along her ?9-year old niece. If the concert had finished with Gaudete, the poor kid would have been left with nightmares.
The other memorable Prom was this Friday night's:-
- Mahler Symphony No.5
- Stockhausen Punkte (1952/1962/1993)
- Schubert Ständchen, D921 orch. David Matthews
- Bei dir allein, D866/2 orch. Manfred Trojahn
- Nacht und Träume, D827 orch. Colin Matthews
- Das Lied im Grünen, D917 orch. Detlev Glanert
- Beethoven Overture 'Leonore' No.3
The Stockhausen, on the other hand... Skip it. It is 27 minutes of discord, based on his theory of pointillism. I can't fault the musicians - it is a very difficult piece to play and, as far as I can tell, they did a good job. But it is a discordant mess without any themes on which to hang your musical hat.
To me, the Stockhausen is an example of what went wrong with 20th Century music. Somewhere in the middle of century, composers (and critics) turned their backs on melody - it was uncool and old-fashioned. Critics still do it: film theme-music and musicals are sneered at for being "populist", as if only unpopular music can be considered any good. The more obscure, the better as far as they are concerned. I'm sure the Dead Cat music got full marks from the critics.
We've heard three new pieces this year, the two above and Jason Yarde's Rhythm and Other Fascinations. Only the Yarde was memorable for the right reasons: he focused on melody and rhythm. Whilst you can hear his jazz influences, he's composed something new and fresh. I bet he was slated by the critics. If you get the chance, keep an ear out for it.
Tonight, we're going to another late night concert: Bach's cello suites 1, 2, and 3. I'll let you know if it is blog-worthy.
- Pam
* You have until Friday 29th August to listen to the concert via the BBC's "Listen Again" service. It's in 3 downloads. Skip part two to miss the Stockhausen.
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