Getting in touch with your feminine side
Dear Cecilians
have lost count of how long it has been since my last message, but time is
the most frustrating of concepts and the least worthy of reasons so we
shouldn't let it stand in our way. On Friday was feeling a little sorry for
myself as I was obviously going to miss the Cecilian dinner dance on
Saturday night, but the cloud was quickly dispelled by the fact that I was
in Alicante singing in a concert instead. It was our first proper concert
with the whole new choir and went exceptionally well. There were many
different "versions" of said choir to be seen throughout the night - some
people were ready to sing everything, some people only the things we'd
rehearsed most, so there was nigh-constant coming and going on and off the
stage. Over and above this there were several exciting
move-around-the-auditorium-to-sing moments, the highlight of the night being
an African chant named "Choo choo loza" which was fully choreographed with
clapping and stamping throughout. In this chant I was featured as the only
soloist in the concert (except for the vocal tutor). It should be admitted
that said solo consisted of only four notes (E B E A), but it was still fun.
After that came a big dinner for the entire choir (60-odd people) - in a
cafe 10 metres from the beach, not the rather more sumptuous surroundings of
the Hilton. Most of the choir then went home, leaving a party-hardened group
of 11 who went to paint Alicante red. We found a bar with good music and
danced and drank till about 5 in the morning before going to bed, two of us
complaining about this early night. As it turned out the early night was
unmerited as one of the 5 guys sleeping on the living room floor started to
snore and snore... but never mind. A big "family" breakfast ensued and then
lunch and... actually, I spent most of the past 24 hours eating, drinking
and singing. May many similar days follow.
Excitingly, whilst in Alicante we walked past the British Consulate - my
currently-planned future workplace. (Not the Alicante one, specifically, but
that would be quite cool). Also, today on the front page of every newspaper
this morning was the story of a prostitution ring which had been busted in
Alicante, with the arrest of 43 prostitutes - this took place in the middle
of the street outside the bar we were in, and we got to watch the entire
drama.
The other major news occurred last Wednesday, but a little background is
necessary. As on many nights out, we started off in a bar called Sally
O'Brien's because one of our friends is in love with the barman and this
often results in free or reduced drinks for us (a pint of Jack Daniels and
coke for £1.70!). In the middle of a game of darts I turned around to catch
Paula's eye. We looked at one another for a moment and suddenly were kissing
each other. This seemed an excellent idea at the time (despite the
protestations of Collette that it was vaguely incestuous and she now owed a
fiver to several people) and was repeated at several points throughout the
night. Expect imminent news of our wedding and forthcoming offspring. Or
don't, and put it down to random drunkenness. It's your decision! Phone now
and cast your vote.
On a more serious note, it has recently come to my attention that with the
exception of the choir (which finishes after our big concert next week -
details will, I'm sure, follow) basically all of my friends in Spain are
female. At first glance it may be difficult to find any problem at all with
this fact, but we have to look a little deeper. The following facts may shed
some light on the possible psychological damage being caused by such
complete estrogen immersion:
- have developed a dubious idea that shopping for clothes is fun.
- moreover, on returning home with 4 (4!) new items of clothing the other
day I discovered that THEY ALL MATCHED (Unsure whether this is JP's definition or everyone else's - Ed.).
- am re-reading "Bridget Jones's Diary"
- said re-reading has seen me moving away from the
vaguely-amused-by-girly-ditziness attitude I took the first time through to
something approaching... inspiration.
- it takes a conscious effort of will not to underline notes in a
different colour of pen (said different-coloured pens having been purchased
specifically)
- have just now, whilst typing, thought hard before describing someone's
hair as being "mid-brown". What the hell is up with that?
Happily, I still feel no inclination to examine every phrase people say to
discover what they REALLY meant, though I live in daily fear of developing
the ability to differentiate between beige, fawn and oatmeal.
Early-morning classes call - hopefully, we will be told tomorrow the full
details of our upcoming maritime law class trip to the port - so I'd better
get to bed. I have a worrying desire to suggest "Flower Drum Song" as next
year's show because it features "I Enjoy Being A Girl". I'm sure it's just a
phase I'm going through, so hopefully it will pass soon.
JP
