Do you hear what I hear ..

"Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy,
Do you hear what I hear?

Do you hear what I hear?

Ringing through the sky Shepherd boy,

Do you hear what I hear?

Do you hear what I hear?

A song a song, high above the trees

With a voice as big as the sea,

With a voice as big as the sea .."

 

 

Gosh - another year draws to a close.
Time to decorate the old house and bring music into the hallway.
First door to the right..that's me!

The sounds of Christmas and all which that ensues is upon us.

'Do you hear what I hear?'

I am hearing the bells.
This year Christmas also heralds the end of 'the long kiss goodbye'. 
My boss, the Principal is packing her school bag for one final time. And for one last time she will hear that final bell.
And for one final time I also will hear that bell. Though a different bell. Last year I tied a tiny bell to her Christmas gift and she attached it to her office door.
To be honest, I am quite fond of it.
Because when she opens the door I have at least 30 seconds to re-position myself and quickly hide the form guide! 
( I knew No.5 would be a sure thing )
Yes - I will really miss that little bell.




I've put a great deal of thought into Annie's gift this year.
Both a Christmas and retirement sentiment.
I've struggled a little I admit.
Because she has received so many generous and lovely tributes.
But the answer was right there, hovering in the slipstream of my thoughts.
A Bell.
So I have sought out the most beautiful bell, resplendent with compelling dulcet tones.
Forty years ago she began her career as an English Teacher.
So I have had it engraved. Befitting of the occasion.

'I go and it is done, the bell invites me.'
Macbeth (II, i, 62-64)

Maybe the bell will remind her of me occasionally.
I'm not really sure.


I used to play Words and Chess on my iPhone a few hundred wonderful times this year. But I don't play anymore. There are no pretty or clever words to describe how each morning, and sometimes late at night I so dearly miss those little chimes. Maybe Kops and Lev might sum it up for you. I hope so.


A star, a star, dancing in the night with a 'tail' as big as a kite.

This Christmas I am heading up to FNQ for Christmas with my family. That's Far North Queensland for the uninitiated. My entire extended family are heading to Port Douglas for Christmas. In fact they are on their way now.
I hope they are enjoying all of that sugar cane, and cane, and cane, and cane ..
( I'm sure it will look fabulous from the air, champagne in hand, etc etc etc ..)
But mostly I hope they all stay safe. 
We have never been away from 'home' en masse at Christmas before. Ever.
This will indeed be interesting.

'Do you know what I know?'

I hope Santa knows where to find us.
We only have one child in our extended family. 
The Boy Child.
We were so very lucky that he believed in Santa for an extended range of years.
When he reached an age where the word on the street was that Santa was not truly really truly - he googled it. And there it was - St Nicholas - a Saint - of course he must be real.
Thank you Google. You're 'awesome'. The only other word on the street it seems ..

For many years the boy child's most loving mother went to the most impressive theatrics on Christmas Eve to ensure the stage was set.
Yes. Snowy footprints in QLD - in December!
Nothing was too much trouble for our little boy child.
And every Christmas morning around 5am I would hear 'Susie, Susie, get up', whispered in my ear.
And every Christmas morning I would say  'Hey - did you hear the dogs barking around 1am? I think they must have heard the bells on Santa's Sleigh'.
And every Christmas morning our little boy child would nod vigorously as only the innocent child can -  'Yes, yes - I did hear them!'

'Ringing through the sky Shepherd Boy'

It will be an interesting week at the Mirage.
Interesting for many reasons.
In the 1980's my brother built the Mirage.
In the 1990's I was employed at the Mirage.
I am sure there will be many bells-a-ringing for us both.
And I am also sure we will be awake at 5am. 
Sans bells.

One of the cutest things that I consider has come to pass in the last ten years or so, is Santa's Flight Plan which is uploaded by Air Services Australia sometime in the week prior to Christmas.
http://www.airservicesaustralia.com/santa/2013/12/19/notice-issued-to-pilots/
I love that the media get 'on board' and I love that all Pilots are requested to give 'Sleigh Rider 1' top priority. 
Oh - how much would you have loved to have followed this magical little flight path when you were a child. When I was little I used to say Santa's Slee. Because my middle name is Leigh - pronounced Lee not Lay. Slee not Slay. Sleigh - You with me? Oh whatever.

'Way up in the sky little lamb, do you see what I see?'

I hope the big fella knows where to find us this year.
And I certainly hope he has room in 'Sleigh Rider 1' for my racehorse which will be named Flowerbombe and who will always leave a little explosion of loveliness behind it.









And my bestselling App called 'Lips Tips'. 
When that takes off every day will be Christmas!
Yes. That's all I want for Christmas.
There's me done.

But just quietly all I really want for Christmas is a half kilo of QLD prawns, a dollop of good quality mayo mixed with a little tabasco and a squirt of lemon.
Oh, and something a little frosty and pink.
That would be quite lovely.
28' and a light southerly would also be quite lovely. And a trifecta.
That would be the loveliest of all.
Faith, Hope and Love.
Not necessarily in that order.

Wherever you awake on Christmas morning I hope that your Christmas Day is just as sweet as sweet.

As sweet as those sweetest little chimes.
That proffered great gifts.

As sweet as the sweetest pea.

May all the blessings of Christmas be yours. x

'With a voice as big as the sea.'

 

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8HM5XE1yek
Do you hear what I hear?

23 more sleeps ..

This morning I woke to a newsy email from an ex colleague who is living in the Northern Territory spending time with her husband volunteering in the Kulumburu Community.
She wrote of the newly liveried Qantas aircraft that arrived last week in Broome to be blessed by the local Priest and the Aboriginal Community.

In the late 1990's I flew from Frankfurt to Bangkok on one of the first Aboriginal liveried aircraft 'Nalanji Dreaming'. I can still remember that little burst of excitement when finally arriving at the gate in the vast Frankfurt Airport to see 'Nalanji Dreaming' was our ride home. Well half way anyway! The flight to Frankfurt the week or so prior had been extremely turbulent and I was feeling a little apprehensive what the same route in reverse would produce. But when I saw that aircraft all fear evaporated. Lord knows why but for some reason I was absolutely sure that no calamity would dare befall this sacred aircraft. Lord knows why.
Bring on the sick bags, but we would reach our destination.

Lord knows why alright.
In 1978 I climbed Uluru. Not just once but 1 and 1/2 times. HIgh Achiever? Absolutely. Not.
I was on a school trip - though the word safari was the fashionable term back then.
In those days scaling the rock was not seen as a sign of disrespect or a lack of spirituality or a sure path to hell.
It was a right of passage.
The first time I went up I was very scared.
I'm really not so great with heights.

So down I came. Until a very nice boy told me that if I would like to try again he would climb with me.
And so climb we did.





And when we reached our destination it may have well been Everest such was the elation of victory.
Although when I look at this picture, the words 'like a Jesuit over a waterfall' often spring to mind.


In 1979 my Mum sent me to California for almost one year.
My Dad had died the previous year - in my last year of high school.
It had been a long time coming.Yesterday would have been his 81st birthday.
I didn't do so well that final year. Just sort of muddled through the best I could.

When I returned home from the U S of A, my Mum did not send me anywhere nearly as exciting this time around.
She sent me to 'Secretarial College'. EH! And I couldn't stand it.
It was just bloody ghastly.
One afternoon while catching the bus home an old primary school friend boarded.
She told me she was working for Westpac in their 'Data Processing Centre' in Woolloongabba. She was doing 'data processing'.
At that time Woolloongabba was a very indigenous suburb of Brisbane, though I am not entirely sure I knew the word indigenous back then.

As a small aside, only those who have ever worked in Woolloongabba can spell it really really fast.. double U, double O, double L, double O, N, G, A, double B,A !
It's quite an accomplishment! You really need to add a little flourish at the end.
Go on - try it! Fun hey!
But anyway, back to the story..

Well. I immediately wanted to do 'data processing' also.
It sounded very sophisticated.
And it would surely beat typing and shorthand...surely.
And if I had to have gone back to 'Secretarial College' with all those jumped up old harpy's for just one more day I would ..

I don't know but I just would.
You see the only thing my Mum didn't bank on when I returned from my little sabbatical in California was that I was now a teenager of the world. I had seen things, I had opinions.Yep. I did.
And my opinion of Secretarial School when I had been a guest of the Captain on the now retired Aircraft Carrier the USS Enterprise..Yes Captain - I had opinions.

So..what did I have to do to get a gig doing 'data processing?'
I had to go into the Commonwealth Employment Agency and ask for a form.
That's what I had to do.
Take it home, fill it out and do a little 'photo statting'. Oh and get permission from ones Mother as 'data processing' involved shift work. Yep. That's what I had to do.

So..next day back on the bus I go. I had to hand my application complete with photo statted school results etc etc to a Mr Smith. We had a short conversation, I told him my thoughts on being a sophisticated world traveller and the interview was over.

Thirty minutes later I arrived home.
My Mum had just received a phone call from said Mr Smith.
Mr Smith wanted to know why I had not applied to go to University, why I hadn't applied for this and why I hadn't applied for that. That if I wanted to attend the Australian National University in Canberra he would assist. My results in English and Art were outstanding, even though my Maths and Economics were appalling. He would assist in getting me that Aboriginal Scholarship and have me relocated to Canberra.
Where at that moment my Mum intervened with 'What? She's not an aboriginal...'
And he said, "What? Isn't she...'
And Mum said 'NO! She has just wasted 6 weeks of her life lying on the beach!'





So I have a tendency to tan well!
And you can get a lot of thinking done on the beach!
We have laughed for over 30 years at that story.

Almost as funny as a chaplain we dealt with recently who lives at 69 Luckie Street.
Oh God the mileage we are getting out of that one.

Though I do wonder where I would be had I studied English at Australia National University. Where I would have ended up.

And so I commenced at the Westpac Data Processing Centre, this unmarked complex on Ipswich Road which has a perfect view directly to the Princess Alexandra Hospital.
Of any view anywhere in the world this would have to have been my worst nightmare.
Maybe those 2 trips up The Rock had come back to haunt me after all.
The PA Hospital, as it is affectionately known in Brissy was where my Dad passed away the year prior.
It is without doubt my nemesis.
And where I have many a time gone boom crash pow into many a marble wall fainting away at any given or ungiven moment. I actually think those head injuries may be responsible for my sometimes random thoughts and overactive imagination!

You see I am squeamish! Very very squeamish.
I have felt the need to tell people my whole life that I am squeamish.
For their own good not mine!
So squeamish that if anyone is describing anything that entails (not entrails) the words blood, drip, tube, incision, hospital, you get it...there is a good chance that within a few minutes I  could very well be quite shockingly on the floor!
(I spend a fortune on lingerie as I live in constant fear the wrong person might catch a glimpse of my knickers!)
So whoever is regaling me with graphic detail - I need to warn them - or leave the conversation quickly.
This doesn't happen all the time.
In fact when faced with crisis I am impressively shocked into action.
I'm impressed anyway!
It's random.
But I always know.
When the mind suffers the body cries out.

The only people who understand this are my family and very close friends.
When my Mum recently had major surgery we were both very freaked out,
The morning I arrived in Qld to visit her at the hospital I was in a state.
In fact the whole flight up I was in a state. Oxygen mask - yes please!

When my oldest friend picked me up from Maroochydore Airport to take me to the hospital I asked her what I should expect.
Blood - check. Tubes - check. Bandages - check. Drip - check.
Oh God.
Hospital smell - NO. A small blessing!
So armed with knowledge in we went. I said "Donna I am just keeping my head down and following you. I don't want to see anything on the way. Let's just walk very fast and get to the room!"
And so we did.
And there was my beautiful Mother sitting up in a chair with all vestiges of scariness strategically concealed under a blanket.
After the flurry of hugs, kisses and tears she said, 'lie down in the bed'
And so I did. And boy did it feel safe.




That morning when my Mum had had her blood pressure taken it had been unnaturally high.
The surgeon asked her what was wrong as it had been perfect for days.
My Mum told him her daughter was arriving that day and etc etc etc!
God how embarrassing.
She also told the Sister. "Oh yes we have heard about you.."
For the next 5 days every moment I was at the hospital I was in the bed and Mum was sitting up. I learnt a lot about life in those 5 days.
Mum knew where I was meant to be.

December is here.
Three more weeks of school and the count down is on.
I am exhausted.
My colleagues are exhausted.
Term 4 is without doubt relentless.
I love my role, and I am very good at it.
I don't mind saying that.
Like I don't mind saying, "I am about to
faint".
It gives everyone a laugh.








When I pull into my most coveted designated car park every morning that says 'Principal's Assistant' I always wonder how I found my destination, here to this rather prestigious Grammar School - given I was a 'Secretarial College' drop out.
I really don't know.

But my Mum knew.
She knew where I was meant to be.
Even though we both had to bang our heads many times along the way.

It's 34' in Melbourne today. Wowee.
I am not working on my tan. Way too hot for my delicate skin!
For the next few weeks I am just working on me.
And my filing.
To finish what I started.
23 more sleeps.
BFN!

BTW ..

I can't seem to stop crying.
And it's not my thyroid.

It's the signs.
It's all to do with the signs.

My sweetest pal suggested we stop looking for signs.
I was a little shocked really because it's kind of our thing.

And the signs have mostly come good for me. I've had a little luck.
But I haven't had a big luck.
Not this week anyway.





The Carnival is over.
And I'm not referring to the Seekers performing at Hamer Hall last night.
I didn't have the privilege of attending, however some of my friends did.
When 'The Carnival is Over' was being performed they called me.
Clearly they too ignored the signs
'ALL MOBILE PHONE MUST BE SWITCHED OFF'.
But I didn't care - I just lay in bed and had a little sing-a-long with myself!
That passed a minute.


The carnival really is over however.
The Spring Racing Carnival in Melbourne.
I've done okay but this week I've felt the losses harder than usual.

It's the signs.
They were all there but I just needed to pay closer attention.
I was off my game.

It started with The Cup. I saw a sign in Red Cadeaux.
It wasn't intended to be a sign for me but how elated I was anyway to see it flying home.
But I didn't think to choose it. I wasn't my sign.
But of course I saw a sign for myself in Fiorente and Mount Athos.
Talk about foolishly throwing a trifecta away.
OFFS!

I love a good acronym. I am not particularly fond of WTF but I am attracted to OFFS. It covers a whole gamut of frustration!
And today was an OFFS day.

It was the signs.
I am not going to focus on the fact that last Thursday, Ladies Day, I tipped 3 out of 4 in the Oaks Day quaddie. Because I didn't have to look hard for the signs there. It was all based on mathematical algorithms. Yep. Right. Tipped the winner Kirramosa. The jockey who was dumped from riding the Cup winner.
If he didn't have something to prove .. well no-one did.
I sure saw that sign!
2. Surge Head and 4. Backstedt. Check and check.
Number 3. The Dilmah Stakes. I said it. Well Lankan Rupee would have to win that. There's a sign. I said it out loud. I did. And then I backed Planet Voyage.

I am not going to focus on the fact that for a measly fiver I could have won $7k.
No. I'm over that now.
WTEVR!

But I AM  going to focus on the Queen Elizabeth Stakes today.
Today I was completely overwhelmed with the signs.
I was torn between separating the chaff from the hay.

I tipped Horse 2 in Race 6 - Buffering.
I tipped Horse 2 in Race 7 - Boban.
I tipped Horse 2 in Race 8 - Precedence.
BTW - Precedence was only declared the winner after a heart stopping protest

And then we came to Race 9.
The final race of the Spring Racing Carnival.



And it was here I fell apart.
OFFS.
I really had to CTFD and concentrate.
Horse 2 - Longport - ridden by the dumped jockey.
He would have something to prove again surely?
Surely? 
Don't we all love a big finish .. ?
Don't we?
Indeed.





Horse 4 - By The Way. BTW. A sign. Mentioned recently.
By my same mate who chose number 2 when I asked them to give me a number - again recently.
Yep. Number 2. That's what they chose.


OMG. Conflicting signs.

Four? Two? Four? Two?
And what are the odds that 2-2-2-2 would come in?
I'll tell you what the odds are.
$11,131,50
For a measly fiver.

And so I went for the 4.
I said it - I actually said it - out loud ..
Right I said -  I am following my heart on this one.
And then I said - not that that has ever gotten me anywhere.
OFFS - I even said it. Out loud.
And I haven't been able to CTFD since.

 

2-2-2-2
Tutu Tutu  - OMG my keyboard is seizing up from my tears.
How many pictures of TuTu's have I posted?
How many times have I waffled on about TuTu's?
OFFS.





I can't even read my own signs!
OFFS and BTW - why didn't I just do two measly $5 quaddies?
I really really don't know.
My mind has clearly flown away.

I'm done.
I'm registering for 'I wake up with today!'

But on a positive note - while I was having coffee in blingy Brighton this morning with my girlfriend, a not so blingy bloke sat down next to me and our eyes met over the Form Guide. We exchanged tips and then he proceeded to fiddle with something for the next 5 minutes. Good Lord. My friend was almost hyperventilating trying not to laugh. I was giving her the 'will you STFU' look and refrained from offering to give him a hand. Until WHOOSH the whole table practically took off across the floor as the stuck zip on his coat finally became free. To lighten a rather awkwardly hysterical moment for us all, I asked him if there was a App for emotional betters like myself called 'LIPS TIPS' would he buy it?
And he said - with pleasure.


It was the sign I needed.
I have made my first sale.
Now I just need my APP.
'Lips Tips'
That will be me.

It's good to have something to keep your mind busy.

The Carnival is Over.
It's time to store my beautiful Fortnum and Mason fascinator for another year.
I can hear the rain on the roof and my battery is almost dead.
It's a sign.
Bed.

The Carnival is Over.

'I will love you til I die ..'

The thief who stole my heart ..

How lovely! I have been invited to a wedding. The ‘bride’ is exactly half my age and she is a little like me – 25 years ago. She refers to me as her Fairy Godmother. Though I am fairly certain that to be a good Godmother you must renounce sin. Seeing as how we fell in love over a showgirl red lipstick, with just a hint of our best bits – well - out there – I’m not certain anyone would buy that. She is me – 25 years ago - except for one thing. Very early in life she knew what she wanted. Personally and professionally. And she gives 200%. Unlike me, she was not a late bloomer. And for this I have immense admiration for her. 

 

We don't see each other a great deal these days but when I get a text message with the opening line ‘Hello beautiful’ well what old Fairy Godmother could not love this kid.

A few weeks back on The Project they were discussing the 5 best inventions of the short term past. I can’t actually remember how short term but there was no-one more happier than I when the Hair Straightener came in at Number 5! I was jumping around the lounge room and cheering. Just like when Dunaden was finally declared the winner of the Cup two years back after a heart stopping and agonising wait.

But one of the first four inventions was text messaging. And on this I wholeheartedly agree. I am not a mad text messager. But both at work and at play it has its place.

My boss, the Principal and I communicate via text all the time regarding pressing matters. In fact just an hour ago I sent her a text message with the picture of the Coach handbag I most desperately need for her to buy me at the knockoff joint in the Silk Markets in China! Oh I so hope her global roaming is working because I have not had a response as yet and I am slightly worried I forgot to call Telstra on Friday!

 

Last year I wrote about goodbyes.  After only 2 months at my new school my boss the Principal (the one currently looking for Coach handbags in China) tendered her resignation – with a 5 term notice period. I referred to it then as ‘the long kiss goodbye’ and boy oh boy it sure has been. This week I met my new boss, the new Principal, due to hit the streets in January. And she’s just lovely. And even lovelier is that her daughter, like myself, enjoys keeping her mind busy studying the form – the horse form that is. Phew. Because I was a little bit worried that my in-house betting syndicate might all have to go to hell in a handbag. A Coach handbag. But Friday lunch time with the highlighter and the Form Guide seems to appear ‘safely held’ for now.

The ‘long kiss good bye’ is almost over. It was a busy week last week. Torn between two lovers.

That was certainly interesting. Managing anxieties – not least my own. Thank God the Cup is almost upon us. On Thursday night 13 of my colleagues, myself, and our new Principal and her husband dined out. Having organised this small but excruciatingly important function, I was desperate that my first gig was hailed a success. Being loyal to the last minute I was seated next to my current Principal directly across from the new girl. I reminded Ms Now that she was $10 in arrears in the syndicate. She handed me a tenner which I placed in the beautiful silver bread bowl – now empty. The wife of a new colleague whom I had never met before, seated on the left of me asked me what it was for? So I told her I was collecting money for the Cup. A big trifecta. Well – she turned to her husband and demanded $20. In the bowl it went. I then asked them to continue passing the bowl around the table. And around the table it went. I could barely keep from spitting out my $200 a bottle glass of French champagne I was laughing so hard. Because I wasn’t really collecting for any big trifecta. But decorum prevailed. And when the bowl made its way back to me with $180 in total there was no-one more shocked than I!

It was without doubt the most successful team building exercise I have ever facilitated! But more than that, Ms Future now knows she can rely on me to get the job done…creatively. It was the best ice breaker ever. And then all chat turned to racing. It is Spring in Melbourne after all and yes it has just started raining.

The Bride and I share many girly loves, but I think in the number 1 barrier would be all things hair. While I am still excitedly jumping around Dunaden style that the hair straightener (which curls) made the top 5 list – there is a new kid on the block. And I just can’t find the words. Just imagine you are eating a very long piece of spaghetti – you know – just sucking it up like when you were a kid (or last night) – and then imagine spitting it out and it is a perfect long sausage curl. You don’t believe me do you? I would never kid you about anything hair. It is too much fun. I can’t stop playing with it. It’s called a Rusk. Google it now.

 

Thanks to the Cup we have four days off to play dress up. And I need it. Because my hand is very tired. From curling my hair and from working on my spreadsheet. The Cup spreadsheet. It’s been a torrid few weeks out there on the track. Clearly the favourites didn’t receive a text message advising them that they were the favourites. My Carpal Tunnel is also playing up. I am not really sure if I have Carpal Tunnel but my Mum says I do so I must. She said my Nanna had it. My Nanna also had hyperthyroidism just like me. So my Mum says it’s a sign. And if she says it’s a sign then it must be.  

My Nanna and Grandad were married for 62 years before they passed away within a few weeks of each other. They didn’t use text messages to communicate. Of course they couldn’t. They just knew each other. They were connected in mind. Which connected them in love. The last time I saw my Grandad alive he was wandering around outside the care facility they both spent their last year in. I said to him, ‘let’s go inside and find Nanna’. When we got inside we were confronted with an array of many grey haired elderly women sitting in chairs. He said to me ‘which one is she?’ And I said ‘you’ll know when she kisses the top of your head Grandad’. My Nanna often, when moving past my Grandad if he was sitting down, leant down and kissed the top of his head and then just moved on. It brings a tear to my eye when I think about it. It was how they communicated. Nanna was almost bedridden for the four weeks in between when Grandad died and when she followed. She didn’t say much in that time. I think she just closed her eyes - she was already with him.

 

I can hardly wait for the wedding. It is in December. An opportunity for many of us to be together on the wonderful trail to Christmas ..

But November here we are. I  always look for a sign. In every race I look for a sign. I pretend to be extremely superstitious – but in truth I’m not. It’s all just a little fun! Last year I thought Mount Athos was the sign. Even though - I kid you not there was a Green Moon two weeks prior to the race which I completely dismissed! And last night I did ‘sea’ a moon so maybe there’s a sign…but all morning I have been contemplating the draw.  I have narrowed down my choices .. so .. here we go.

Sea Moon (though I’m edgy about Green Moon)

Dear Demi – because my sweetest mate thinks GI Jane is a stupid movie and I just love it and we have recently had a robust discussion re this subject and I need to win this argument! So there ..

Fiorente – just because ..

Oh Oh Oh! I just received a text message from China! Bag in hand! It's a true sign. Well done Annie. Don't ever lose hope that the longest shot can come in.

 

But 'seriously' in the last few minutes it has come to me.
How could I have almost missed this beautiful sign.
Back on February 14^th I wrote about my love of the heart.
And Pink does feature occasionally in my life in many ways..

‘Right from the start you were a thief who stole my heart and I your willing victim’ Pink

 

Voleuse De Coeurs - Number 17 – It’s my sign.

 

It's like love ..

As a child I was given the opportunity to learn to read music, play the piano, the guitar and the flute.
All of which I am sad to say I embraced half-heartedly.
Which is rather confusing because I have always loved music.

But have I always loved music or have I always loved words?
Until recently the truth would be words.

I have fallen a little bit in love.
With the violin.

I have fallen a little bit in love.
With my earphones.

I have fallen in love.
With listening.

Yes I have been a little clumsy of late you might say.
Falling, falling, falling ..

A couple years back, maybe just last year in fact, Tourism Australia embarked on a campaign, a visual treat backed by the music of a Tasmanian singer songwriter Dewayne EverittSmith entitled 'It's Like Love'. 

I was drawn to it the first time I heard it.
I was drawn to the words.
The piece commences with an evocatively moving violin rift.
Kind of makes you want to find a fire place, a bottle of red and a very special someone. 
Stat!









I have recently purchased the cutest little retro radio that doubles as a fantastic speaker given the right connections. The sound quality is superb. It was playing in my office. (fondly referred to as 'the shop' by my colleagues) One of them commented how lovely the song was and it was interesting to hear myself referring to the violin interludes.


When I was a child, like most children, we learnt the various parts of the orchestra.
The woodwind, the brass, the keys, the percussion, the strings.
When I was a child I listened to the radio and the record player and faithfully watched Countdown every Sunday night.
I heard the drums Fernando.
But did I really hear?

I think therein lies the answer.
Whoever invented those lovely little round padded earphones particularly conducive to girly ears is a hero.
The superiority of every little component and the recording expertise in this life we live, provides us with such beautiful quality that it has completely changed the way I hear music.


And the way I think.

'Violin interludes?'
When did I become an aficionado on 'violin interludes?'. Good Lord.
But I have. And I didn't even realise it was happening.
'Take it in and let it heal your heart'.

Did you know that the world's favourite song of the moment by Passenger 'Let Her Go' is full of violin interludes. 
Pop in your earphones and take my hand ..

Well you see her when you HERE fall asleep
But never to touch and never to keep
'Cause you loved her too much
And you dived too deep HERE

Well you only need the light when it's burning low HERE
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go  HERE
Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missin' home
Only know you love her when you let her go



HERE
And you let her go (oh, oh, ooh)
And you let her go (oh, oh, ooh) HERE
Well you let her go
HERE! HERE! HERE!

True - this piece would be beautiful sans violin, but here the violin seems to almost be listening.
Kind of like talking. The speaking is not always the most important part.
Sometimes it is the listening. And the coming in at the right moment. When you can enhance the conversation. 
Add interest. 
Polish.


And yet then again sometimes, still just sometimes, a comfortable silence is the best feeling ever.

I urge you to rediscover your earphones, the songs that do it for you - and seek out YOUR violin.
I promise you. 
'It's like love for the first time, it'll all make sense you know - Take it in and let it fill your heart.'  HERE









A few weeks ago I strolled over to the music department and demanded in the nicest possible way that they hand me over a violin. 
And they did!
It's like love ..

HERE!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSG6B25-pCo  It's like love

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26SDD60m_kY  Let her go