Musical retirement. As Robbie Burns (as above) said, the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley (sic). I hope that’s close enough for you to get the connection to what I’m about to write. If not please accept my apologies.
I suppose you might say that my latest musical retirement experience began last Thursday. Let me explain. Last Thursday we spent most of the day up at the vineyard weeding (you will remember). We got home to Leeds and had a bite to eat and a glass of wine. We thought we’d earned it.
Thursday night is also Folk Fiddle practice night and here’s the problem. I was so knackered I really did not feel I could attend the practice. So I sent a message saying I wasn’t going to be there. But, because I felt guilty (marvellous thing guilt), I said I would definitely be at the gig in Haworth (of Brontes fame) on Sunday.
This is where it gets complicated so pay attention. Sunday morning was also my new jazz group meeting. Having done the Headingley gig last weekend I wanted this coming weekend (now past) to be about jazz not folk fiddle.
I thought I had a get out plan. The Haworth gig wasn’t going to be very well attended by the group (it’s quite a fair distance away). In fact only 7 violinists and 3 guitarists had agreed to play the gig, me being one of the guitarists. This is rather unbalanced so I thought I might wiggle out of playing by suggesting we didn’t need 3 guitarists with only 7 violinists.
So far so clever, but you may remember that, at the Headingley gig, I played the bodhran (Irish drum). So Iveta (our group leader) came back at me with the brilliant idea that instead of playing guitar I could play the bodhran on all the songs, not just four tunes. It was a bit like a game of cards – see your ace and raise you … Whatever the saying is, it meant that Iveta had trumped my suggestion. So far from getting out of the gig altogether I was now not only playing it, but playing an instrument I felt even less comfortable with. Bugger.
So well and truly committed to the gig. All I could do was drive to the gig, unpack the bodhran and do my very best. And so it was Sunday morning all 4 of us (two humans and two dogs) were sat in the car about to set off to Haworth when my phone buzzed.
I might not usually have answered it but I did. It was a message from Iveta (the group leader you will remember) saying she had very painful sciatica, couldn’t get in her car and would not be able to conduct the gig. End result, the gig was cancelled.
It would be wrong of me to show pleasure at another person’s misfortune. What kind of person would I be? On the other hand the cancellation of the gig meant I could, without blame or guilt, switch to the music I wanted to be playing, namely jazz on electric guitar.
True I couldn’t play the keyboard and also true the tunes this group leader had sent to us to give us a heads up about what we would be playing, didn’t figure at all. There’s a certain irony to the fact that had I known at the beginning of all this confusion, that I was going to being playing jazz, I might have practised these tunes. And that would have been a complete waste of time, because, as I say, we didn’t play them. As Robbie Burns said…
That aside and, ignoring Iveta’s pain (I’ve had some problems with sciatica and it’s not amusing), I enjoyed the two hours of jazz. The band leader and I see eye to eye on what playing jazz means (basically not worrying too much about hitting the ‘correct’ notes if there is such a thing) and that, take my word for it, is a rare event.
Musical retirement summary
I wrote recently that fitting back into my musical routine had been for reasons that are not entirely clear to me, the most difficult of my retirement routines to achieve. I’m getting there. They have changed shape since before we went away. So grabbing hold of them to fit into my retirement has been challenging but, as this blog proves, trying to plan one’s way to being successful in any retirement activity, can be elusive and sometimes you just have to go with the flow, much as this goes against my particular grain. So there we are, should a person try and plan their retirement or just get up each and every morning and see what life holds in store for us? Which approach brings greatest satisfaction / happiness? As usual my answer is buggered if I know.