Hopeful Doo doos

Today, the YouTube algorithm chose an ‘anchor in hope’ yoga practice. Again, there are no coincidences. I really need hope.

I spent last weekend unable to get the doo doos right. I re-wrote the words to Pachabel’s canon for the year 6 leaver’s song. No. I didn’t. I rewrote the words to Maroon 5 song Memories but like many songs it’s so similar that when I tried to record it for them to learn the doo doos all came out as Pachabel. On a Zoom call (other platforms are available) with a bubble (aka class) they said that they were having trouble with the doo doos. They smiled as they said it.
“That’s ok. My doo doos are different. You should make your doo doos like the original doo doos,” I told them and we all smiled. It’s important never to take yourself too seriously.

It was a load of hard doo doo though. Normally, I would have been able to work with them on the new lyrics. They would have learnt something. We could have watched the video that shows how many songs are based on Pachabel’s Canon and we could have turned the doo doos into a tune that reflected the memories of our school even more. Instead, I was stuck at home, pacing the living room, trying to get into the mind of an 11 year old and trying to replicate Maroon 5’s doo doos.

The DfE guidelines for schools in September also came out, which won’t make for easy music lessons and won’t allow for choir or band to happen. I’m not panicking about it yet because the numbers are still going down despite all the relaxation in restrictions, so I’m thinking that by September (or maybe October) everything will be back to normal. However, I’m lying and I am panicking and can’t help thinking that if a school ant have these things then what is the point of me. This is why I needed today’s yoga practice.

As the pubs opened this weekend I watched a drunk girl squealing with delight and pretending to struggle enough to lose a show as she was passed over the shoulders of at least eight burley men and two lads holding onto each other for dear life as they walked to “Caroline’s house for a piss” *insert little song about how that word can mean two things.* I’m determined to be hopeful that these things won’t matter and will just go to prove that the things I can do aren’t dangerous after all.

The musical theatre people that I follow on social media are even more worried than I am. They can see the imminent death of their industry and while they are grateful for it I’m not sure they think Rishi Sunak’s announcement of a  £1.57 billion bail out package is going to be enough to save all the grassroots theatres where the development happens. This ‘world beating’ amount pales into insignificance when this sector of the economy generates £10.8b a year, and provides 363700 jobs, raising more in taxation. When you compare this world beating figure to France’s £7 billion, it feels less.

Watching the mic drop on our homemade big screen

Over the weekend, like many other people, we watched Hamilton and now have different doo doo stuck in our head. You are meant to cry. It’s a sad story but you’re not meant to sob, “What if we can never sit in a theatre and experience the full emotion of this ever again? What if 1500 people can never be encouraged by a foppish King to sing, ‘doo doo doo do, doo do doo do doo do doo do doo doo doo doo doo do,’ all together ever again?”

I really needed the yoga this morning. I’m hoping for more doo doos.