Berberis' World

On 23rd March 2020, approximately 3 months after the first reported case of SARS-CoV-2, also known as Covid, Covid 19, coronavirus (or, by some, as ‘flu, a conspiracy, or fake news), the UK was placed under lockdown. The announcement of this state of emergency was made by the government on 17th March.

It should be pointed out that 4 days before the UK population was advised that gathering in large numbers might not be a good idea, planes were still flying in from Covid hotspots all over the world, with no thought apparently being given to having the thousands of passengers tested – at the very least – for the virus before they returned to their homes and communities and jobs. Worse, with a disease that would end up fifth in the list of the deadliest epidemics and pandemics in history spreading faster than anything even the experts had seen, the Cheltenham Festival took place. This saw at least 60,000 people attend each afternoon, with nearly 70,000 watching the Gold Cup. Let’s hope that for all of them the gamble paid off…

Just in case there is any doubt about how dangerous this virus was, of just two choirs that continued to rehearse in person, in the first 1 person infected 50 others, resulting in 2 deaths. In the second, almost 80% of members caught the virus, resulting in not only 1 member dying, but also the deaths of the partners of 3 other members.

Needless to say, LCS rehearsals became virtual, although there was nothing to rehearse for as live performance was out of the question. This goes some way to explain the gap in posts from November 2018 to November 2023, although not entirely.

In the September of 2019, I was seconded to the job of supervisor. I mean, I applied, so it wasn’t a complete surprise. (Thinking about it – which I try not to – had I been on the interview panel, I might have had second thoughts about offering me the role). I’d been in post for about 4 months or so when lockdown happened and, on several occasions during that time, I’d asked when the interviews would take place for the role I’d vacated. It was finally announced that they wouldn’t: I was expected to do both roles until things were back to normal.

Except that, as things started to get back to something approaching normal, it became obvious that the decision to not back-fill the post might have been a mistake. A steadily increasing workload, combined with restrictions on movement, and shielding at home for the more vulnerable members of staff, meant that there were fewer people in the office than before, and those who were there were starting to resent those who weren’t. Tempers began to fray, people bickered openly, and I was expected to resolve these issues, as well as do my previous job. I managed for maybe 14 months before the wheels fell off.

I was taking everything very personally at this point and, during an online meeting that seemed to be nothing but criticism of my performance I remarked that this was demoralising. I was told in no uncertain terms that this was inappropriate and (without using the words) to either put up or shut up. Within about half an hour I was at home, in a very distressed state. I stayed home for 2 weeks. Whilst the distress eased, the pressure at work didn’t.

Singing in either choir was not on the cards. I had convinced myself that I didn’t have the time or energy to rehearse and it wouldn’t make any difference to my low mood. In that it was something I found therapeutic (thank you, Dr Parker), this was nonsensical.

A gradual easing of lockdown restrictions towards the end of 2020 led to their eventual lifting in the UK on 19th July 2021. Rehearsals for Monteverdi Vespers started in January 2022, and I found myself looking forward to the concert on 2nd April.

Three days before the concert, I got home from work feeling a bit off. I took a lateral flow test more to prove that it wasn’t Covid… except that it was. After two years of managing to avoid it, at some point during the rehearsal on 28th March I’d picked up the virus. Several other choir members were also infected, and all of us missed the concert on the Saturday.

I was extremely relieved – and consider myself lucky – that what developed was not much worse than a bad case of ‘flu. Tens of millions of others were not so fortunate. I hope the woman who used the term ‘sheeple’ as she walked into the supermarket managed – along with all her family and friends – to avoid the virus. And I hope whoever wrote that Covid was created by the US in a lab in Ukraine on the ‘please wash your hands’ sign in the toilet cubicle has suffered nothing more debilitating than a bout of gastroenteritis.

Tomorrow. 60 is only a number. None of the others that ended in zero caused such discombobulation, so why should 60?

Well, it’s the first time I’ve taken the day off work. Actually, I’ve taken the whole week off – I wouldn’t be writing this if I hadn’t. (The last entry was 5 years ago, and there are so many updates in the offing that it may be another 5 years before the next entry). To be honest, there is part of me which wants to celebrate, make it an event, mark it in some way. I’m just not sure that it’s a big enough part to make me want to make the effort.

And yet. There is SO MUCH that is shit in this world – no, in this country – that is conspiring to beat us down, make us feel powerless, that not celebrating seems like just another way of giving in to it. The current government – lying, corrupt, arrogant, unaware and unfettered by any and all criticism – continues to flaunt its lies, its corruption, and its arrogance as the price that the rest of us (i.e. anyone who isn’t one of them) have to keep paying for the ever-shrinking carrot at the end of the ever-lengthening stick.

And no, it’s not small because it’s far away, it’s small because the those with wealth – more than they could possibly ever spend in their entire lifetimes – want even more. Worse than that, they truly think that they are entitled to more. It is unbelievably depressing.

My stress monitor is telling me to pay attention.

Have rearranged the books. It’s not really helped.

Saturday, 17th March 2018, Great Hall, Goldsmiths College.

Edward Elgar: The Dream of Gerontius

The Bromley Boy Singers
Forest Philharmonic Orchestra
Tenor: Peter Davoren
Bass: David Stout
Mezzo Soprano: (I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember the name of the lovely lady who stepped in at the last minute – my profound apologies. I will find out.)
Organ: James Orford
Conductor: Dan Ludford-Thomas

The text for Gerontius is awful stuff. The glorification of, and wallowing in, the suffering and pain and fear associated with death in the name of religion… it’s loathsome. It’s a tribute to Elgar that he managed to write music glorious enough to overwhelm such nonsense.

And I do mean glorious. As a member of the chorus, by far the highlight of Gerontius is in Part 2. It starts at figure 74 and goes right through to the end of figure 100, and is arguably some of the most exhilarating and exhausting music written for a chorus. It was fortunate that Dan’s conducting from figure 89 (moreso from figure 95) was at a speed slow enough that it allowed us to relish the big build-up to the final chord – and the lung-shredding crescendo through it – but not so slow that the mawkish text got in the way. I’ve heard recordings where it sounds like it’s on fast-forward, and they are definitely not to my taste. Happily, Dan seemed to agree.

Before this thirty six page workout there is a section in Part 1, from the start of bar 639 to the end, which is almost as fabulous, if nowhere near as physically draining.

Dan admitted that he had very personal reasons for staging this particular work. I understood this feeling completely. Performing Gerontius had been a long time coming for me: it was the next concert in line for the LCS when I left in 2008, and it was the same for the LPC when I unsuccessfully reauditioned in 2011. So there was a certain degree of ‘what’s going to happen to prevent me singing it this time?’ about this third attempt*. Viruses/work stress/another engagement could all have intervened – thankfully, nothing got in the way. I don’t think I’ve enjoyed rehearsing as much since the Deustches Requiem, and the concert did not disappoint.

*This isn’t strictly true. The third attempt was successful: in 2015, I somehow managed to get involved in a scratch performance of Gerontius that had been arranged by a wonderfully enthusiastic and dynamic woman called Diana Bickley. This was staged at Henry Wood Hall in Central London. I have to confess to not remembering much about it, apart from one rehearsal in a very warm room, and feeling very emotional during the section in Part 2 that I found the most rewarding in 2018.

So, thanks to Dan for choosing this for us, and thanks to everyone who made this concert so enjoyable.

Friday, 25th December, 2015.

I left Dr Parker’s consulting room in 2004 with a ‘prescription’ for a course of acapella singing. It was part of an NHS initiative (then) that sent people to places other than home to do something other than just take antidepressants.

If someone had told me that, 11 years later, I’d be part of a group who’d beat everyone else to have the Christmas No 1, I’d’ve told them they were mad.

But that’s what happened.

It’s a funny old world.

Saturday, 14th November 2015, Goldsmith’s College.

“On the evening of 13 November 2015, a series of coordinated terrorist attacks occurred in Paris, the capital of France, and its northern suburb, Saint-Denis. Beginning at 21:20 CET, three suicide bombers struck near the Stade de France in Saint-Denis, followed by suicide bombings and mass shootings at cafés, restaurants, and a concert hall in Paris. The attackers killed 130 people, including 89 at the Bataclan theatre, where they took hostages before engaging in a stand-off with police. There were 368 people who were wounded, 80-99 seriously so. Seven of the attackers also died, while authorities continued to search for accomplices. The attacks were the deadliest on France since World War II, and the deadliest in the European Union since the Madrid train bombings in 2004. France had been on high alert since the January 2015 attacks in Paris that killed 17 people, including civilians and police officers.” (Taken from Wikipedia, Sunday 27th December.)

This left all of us shocked, angry, and saddened. The mood was subdued at rehearsal and it was decided to dedicate the concert to those killed, for the little good it would do.

But what do you do? Send money, I suppose, and clothes. Maybe food. Moral support. Once you’ve done this, all that is really left is to be bloody thankful that it wasn’t you or your loved ones. Because, for most of us, the fact that there are people in the world who think it’s acceptable to kill anyone who doesn’t agree with them is as incomprehensible as it is terrifying.

Sadly, there always have been and there always will be those who are so ignorant, so gullible, or so bitter and twisted, that wholesale slaughter of dis- or un-believers is not only acceptable but justified by the religious tract to which they slavishly adhere.

And it is religion at the heart of all of this. Evangelicals of all stripes pick and choose what they like from their chosen book, but endorsements for the most extreme behaviour lurks in the pages of all of them. Some of the most ardent churchgoers I’ve known were guilty of half a dozen of the so-called crimes for which the Christian Bible mandates the death penalty.

Once it was sticks and stones. Now it’s Semtex, suicide bombers, high velocity rifles, planes into buildings, and more, all coordinated through social media. Popular newspapers tell us that we need to be suspicious of anyone who’s different. Those in the silent majority (and I don’t mean frothing-at-the-mouth right/left wing idiots who get more than enough air time/column inches) need to remind themselves and educate the next generation that “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” leaves the world toothless and blind.

As for the concert, it went well. The audience was large, and generous with their applause. For a couple of hours, in a hall in New Cross – far from the carnage in Paris – a small group of people cooperated with a single purpose, and produced something beautiful.