Massage and Barbra Striesand

In an interview about Meet the Fockers Barbra Streisand said that the reason she took the role was because of the scene where she gets to massage Robert De Niro.  She claims to love massage and explained that she worked out the scene with her personal masseur.  I had a massage yesterday and during the treatment I kept thinking, "I can't beleive people have this done for pleasure."  Admittedly, my neck and shoulders were like 'massaging a lump of concrete' (so the therapist said) but I have had massages before that haven't been painful and didn't particularly think they were fun either.  She said, "you seem to find it hard to relax,"  and I replied, "I would be fine on my own but lying half naked being pummeled by a complete stranger doesn't exactly put me at my ease."  I am going to give it another go though because I think it has helped my voice and I know it's wrong to be holding that much tension in my neck and shoulders.  If I keep it up, I might get to be like Ms Streisand  and love massage.

Barbra Streisand has been a quiet feminist hero of mine since 1983, when I first saw Yentl.  Her singing was always inspirational. She has the best vocal control of anyone I have ever heard but she was far from cool.  I remember standing in the record shop when I was about 13 and picking up her album, Wet (with songs about water) and Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon and a much older, cooler boy laughing at me so much that I eventually put the Wet album back (although I did go back for it when no one I knew was looking).  But in 1983, she became all kinds of cool to girls like me, who wanted to think.

 

Yentl is probably the best feminist movie I've ever seen.  Most films don't pass the Bechdel test, even now.  To pass this test a movie has to have two named female charaters who talk to each other about something other than a man.  THAT'S ALL.  They don't have to say anything profound, they don't have to be lead characters they just have to exist in their own name.  You would think that all films are representative of real life these days but still many fail to even have women talk to each other.  The Great Gatsby, for example, has several named female characters but they never talk to each other, which can not be representative because the women I know talk to each other all the time.  Even movies that pass the Bechdel test are often lacking in any meaninful dialouge that can speak to a woman in any way at all.

Yentl should have paved the way, as a successful film that was about a woman, directed by a woman, made by a woman that had a really strong feminist message.  It made me angry in 1983 and it made me angry when I watched it again today.  Sometimes we need to be angry.  When I watch it I can never understand how women allowed themselves to become suppressed for so long.  Why did we put up with being told we couldn't read the sacred texts?  Why did we allow ourselves to be slaves to men?  Why didn't we talk to each other and make things better? There are still places where girls can't be educated (look at what happened to Malala).  What I really love about Yentl is that at the end they don't sacrafice the story for the sake of a romanic 'happy ever after'.  Also, it has my favourite dialogue between two women in a film:
"You look pensive."
"No, just thinking."

Last song in Yentl - says it all really

We will rock you

When you have a voice like Bonnie Tyler, the only thing to sing with small children is rock.  Essex Music Services have added a brilliant new resource that  Essex Schools can access for free.  It is called Charanga and has something for everyone.  I'm currently working through their Living on A Prayer set of lessons and each week they give us a new rock song to listen to to compare to L.O.A.P.  This week's song was We Will Rock You.    The children I teach like to change words of songs.  I like to think that this is because they are creative but they could just be a bit silly and immature.

As they were singing this fanatasic Queen song I heard several different versions.  We will shock you.  We will mock you. We will muck you.  We will truck you.  We will suck you.  We will f.......

This is why I like to work with small children they are unintentionally funny.

You know you are having a bad day when....

• You get lost driving your daughter to work
• You go to the supermarket and get to the checkout with a full trolley before you realise you've forgotten your purse.
• The front door slams and leaves you having to climb through a window after you put the bins out.
• You burn the pie base for the rhubarb pie.
• 
• The dog finds a big bone and won't come back when you are out walking
• You've lost your voice AGAIN
• The speech therapist doesn't ring you back (possibly because they can't hear your message)
• The window cleaner calls for his money when you are in the bath (again)
• Your Candy Crush addiction stops you doing anything meaningful all day
• 
• You find out that the people who print the Tshirts for your orchestra had a fire and your screenprint was destroyed
• You can't reach the piano pedals.
• 
• The International callers trying to sell you a 'it's just a survey' say, "I'm sorry madam but I can't understand you!
• 
  
  
  
  A motivational website says that when you are having a bad day you should not to try to turn it round but to escape, give up and hope that tomorrow is better.  Is it too early to go to bed at 4pm?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

To whom it may concern.....

Dear Weed Police, Allotment Nazis and General Busy Bodies,

These may look like weeds to you.  You may think you need to send me a letter.  You may think you need to point out that I've 'missed a bit' while weeding.  You may think you need to suck air in between your teeth and tut as you walk past.

However, they are in fact a vey carefully constructed and nurtured blackfly barrier.  Yes, I have pinched out the tops and in the past I have used a soap spray but nothing works quite as well this patented JuliaofAllTrades Broad Bean Protector. The technical reason must be that the ladybirds and other blackfly eating aphids like my weeds but let's not worry about the science for now.  Whilst, I say it's patented I will let you copy it for just a small price.  All you have to do is stop worrying about my weeds.

My Broad Beans

Your Broad Beans

This is when I'm most dangerous.

Today I am like Tigger on acid.

Sing Up are sending someone to visit our school today and there is a chance we could be given the Platinum Award and I'm excited.  Last night I thought I was stressed because I ate a whole box of Maltesers, even though I haven't eaten any chocolate since I lost my voice in December.  This morning I was awake at 4am and realised that I'm not stressed or anxious at all but excited.  I can't wait for someone to see our fantastic children enjoying singing.

So there I was at 4am, listening to the birds dawn chorus and wondering about a choral version of it (I know it's not an original idea) my brain wizzing, ideas rushing around in my head when I thought I'd just get up and get started.  After all it is Midsummer's Day, the longest day of the year.  I watched Question Time and sniggered childishly as Boris Johnson said, "an orgy of banker bashing."  I walked the dog.  I did some silly writing and I started to have ideas about school projects. 

Stop me.  This is when I'm most dangerous.  "Why don't we have a big concert with all the schools in Essex?" "Why don't I start a Lads and Dads Choir?"  "Why don't we make a CD?"  (Whoops already doing that one).  Yesterday the last four words that were played against me on Words With Friends were idiot, stupid, fool and daft and when I mentioned it to the person who played 'daft' she said that she'd just had a text conversation with one of my friends where they had both agreed I was bonkers.  There is hope for me though because a colleague commented on my facebook status about dreaming of donkeys and bottoms, saying that when he first read it he thought I'd finally gone mad.   Phew, I'm not there yet then.

It's all about the boobs.

All human matter is female.  All human eggs are female. Female is the most important part.  If you don't believe me then just think about nipples - all humans have them.  Why then do I always want to pretend I don't have any?

This week I started Speech Therapy for my voice problem and have been given excercises to do every day - all the time.  Initially, I was sure that stress wasn't part of my problem but it might become so as I struggle to fit in weekly therapy and practising in between to my already busy life.  

Aparently, my problem has been caused by a virus that has left me with extremely tight muscles in my neck, which are pulling my vocal chords apart, making my voice breathy and prone to disappearing if I overuse it, get a bit low or tired.  Most of my excercises are about stretching and releasing muscles in my neck and shoulders and include massage of my neck in particular ways. 

And then there is posture and breathing.  It turns out I'm good at breathing (not much of a surprise for a flautist) but my posture isn't great.  One shoulder is further forward and higher than the other, again not much of a surprise for a flautist.  We had to stand against a wall with our feet, calves, shoulders and head touching and feel how odd it felt.  Once we were used to it we had to walk away from the wall and try to hold the posture.  "Oh, you've sagged in the middle already," she said.  I admit, I am very saggy in the middle. "And your shoulders have slumped forward."  Another member of the group said, "I don't like this I feel like I'm sticking my boobs out like a Supermodel."  It was a lightbulb moment.  Every woman in the groups' shoulders slumped.  None of us felt confident to stick our chests out.  When I got home I practised my posture and the Long Suffering Husband said, "What have you done?  Your boobs have grown."  Obviously, he wasn't complaining but my shoulders automatically slumped and my arms folded across my chest.  

It doesn't feel like much of a choice.  A poorly voice or boobs that enter a room 3 hours before I do.

Garden Envy

When my son was about 5, he asked father Christmas for a bigger garden with a tree in it.  Despite the obvious problems of getting this particular present down the chimney, he kept the faith. He told everyone that  Father Christmas was going to bring him a big garden with a tree in it.  Everytime I have my Christmas Highlights my hairdresser reminds me of his folly.  At the time he wanted a dog and he thought that a big garden and a tree were essential for dog owners.  As he has grown up, his desire for a bigger garden and a tree has remained (even though we now have a dog) and he has also added a hedge arch and a Summer House to his wish list.

Today, we went to Danbury and Little Baddow open gardens.  I love open gardens.  It's a great chance to have a snoop around, whilst convincing yourself it's all for charity.  Looking around gardens in places you probably couldn't afford to live, even if you did win the lottery is probably a mistake.  It's like looking around the gardens of a National Trust property that were landscaped by Capability Brown and hoping to re-create something similar in your own postage stamp.

At first it was fine.  There were no amazing vegetable plots and gardens were just big.  Then we started to notice the trees.  Huge trees:  Oaks; Horse Chestnuts; Willows; whole fields of Apple trees.  Even the small gardens had trees.  Sometimes they weren't actually in the garden but just behind.  Then we started to see gardens that had woodland areas in them.

If that wasn't bad enough, every garden we saw from then on had a hedge arch.  Every mother is used to a grumpy teenager but this was beginning to get silly.  Every arch hedge seemed to be personally taunting him, every tree was shouting, "look I'm not in your garden!"

Then the garden's started getting quirky, with fantastic seating areas and I was beginning to understand his pain.  Every garden needs good seating areas and a bit of quirkiness.

Then there were wildlife areas.  I like wildlife areas, we have a sleeping hedgehog area, which drives the dog mad but I started to notice that in Danbury and Little Baddow even the wildlife can read.  There were many signs specifically for the animals.  Lots of signs for cats; "Cats not allowed." "Cats welcome" and even signs for Badgers.  I'm thinking of making a sign for my allotment that says, "Dear Muntjack Deer, I know you like sweetcorn but just remember that I like venison."

Happy chickens made me slouch my shoulders in unison with my son.  I'd like chickens.  I think I'd like chickens.  In truth I'm a bit funny about flappy birds and although I'd like the eggs I think the chickens might frighten me a bit.

Even the houses were beautiful.  There were thatched cottages and I remembered that when I was young I always said that I'd have to live in a house with a carpet on top.

I often make a scarecrow for my allotment on a rainy day when I have old clothes to throw out.  My scarecrows are scruffy but in Little Baddow the scarecrows   are Toffs, with bad habbits.

The last garden we looked at had everything.  It had trees, scarecrows, wildlife (even a dead shrew on the entrance table), brilliant signs (including one that said Chien Lunatique - which I need in my garden), a thatched roof, a hedge arch, scarecrows and a perfect vegetable patch.

"That's it we're going home!"  I stropped.  "Finally!" said my son but as we were leaving I heard them complaining that no blue tits had nested this year, "Yes my dear, it's the weather don't you know. It's a bad year for Bluetits, no one has them nesting."

YES! A SMALL VICTORY! - I HAVE TITS IN MY BOX!!!!!!

The Best Job in the World

It sounds like I'm bragging but I really do have the best job in the world. I get to sing songs, bang at instruments, play games all day long.  This evening was our school summer music concert and it's just the best thing in the world.  I wind the children up and tell them they can do solos, they get all excited, practice for weeks and weeks, choose snazzy outfits to wear and I take all the credit.  I even got given a lovely bunch of flowers for doing something that I really wanted to do.  

I get to listen to fantastic music.  I get to wear my posh frock and high heel shoes (I do love being tall but I couldn't do it all the time). The best part of the evening for a lot of the children was when I tripped over the edge of the bench. I get to rabbit on about how fantatic they all are.  Sometimes I even get to tell a joke.  My rambling isn't scripted and I often catch myself and wonder what on earth I am saying or what I might say next.  Tonight, was a close one.  Our French Horn player was about to play her solo and I was about to launch into one of my favourite jokes.  I nearly said, "Did you hear about the the who girl went out on a date with a trumpet player, and when she came back her roommate asked, "Well, how was it? Did his embouchure make him a great kisser?"

"Nah," the first girl replied. "That dry, tight, tiny little pucker; it was no fun at all."

The next night she went out with a tuba player, and when she came back her roommate asked, "Well, how was his kissing?"

"Ugh!" the first girl exclaimed. "Those huge, rubbery, blubbery, slobbering slabs of meat; oh, it was just gross!"

The next night she went out with a French horn player, and when she came back her roommate asked, "Well, how was his kissing?"

"Well," the first girl replied, "his kissing was just so-so; but I loved the way he held me!"

Luckily, I stopped myself in time otherwise I could have lost the best job in the world.