On the Ninth Day of December

For me it's always music that has the power to reduce me to tears, whether it's a hymn my dad used to sing, the track from a Leonard Cohen album or a piece of choral music.  Something reaches deep inside and touches me, leaving me totally exposed.  There's real sadness but it's tinged with joy.  For a few moments I feel truly alive.

The YouTube clip is of Westminster Cathedral Choir singing Lauridsen's O Magnum Mysterium, one of the last pieces of music to make me well up.  It's filmed in the Cathedral which is one of my favourite buildings and where I light a candle every time I'm in or around Victoria.

On the Fourth Day of December

Today's theme was (happy!) families.  I took the hint and phoned my sister.

Communication is important.  A little while ago my elder daughter, away at university, said she would like me to write to her, and that's what I've been doing ever since.  I bought a pack of floral writing paper that folds into an envelope.  There's just enough space for an account of the past week.

I left home in India to return to Scotland when I was only 18.  My dad wrote to me every week.  (When I say wrote, he actually typed his letters after I complained that I couldn't read his atrocious writing!)  I used to look out for those blue aerogrammes and would reread them so as not to miss a single detail.  Text and emails have their merits but there's nothing to beat the physical written word.

If Music be the Food of Love ...

My Dad loved music.  He sang in choirs, beginning as a choir boy in the Scottish Episcopal Church and ending as a tenor in the Pune Choral Society in India.  In his last years his Morningside flat was always filled with music either on the radio or on a CD from his growing classical music collection.

When he died I inherited this library which my sister kindly had delivered to me in Bristol in several cardboard boxes.  I spent some time arranging them in historical, rather than alphabetical order, largely as a source of reference for my elder daughter in her Music GCSE.  However, although I have picked the odd one out from time to time, I haven't yet done what I promised myself I would do, that is to start at the beginning and listen to them all in sequence.

But this week, spurred on my my Classical Gas rehearsal this morning (we were singing Vivaldi and Bruckner), I am embarking on my classical music experience with Thomas Tallis, the Father of English Church Music.  The CD features Spem in Alium and Mass & Motets.  I am very fond of Tallis and was impressed by Exultate's performance of Spem in Alium at St George's earlier this year, so I know I'm off to a good start.

Made Me Smile

This automaton, above all the others in the Robert Race exhibition in Bath, brought a smile to my face, because it reminded me of my Dad.

My Top Ten Cookery Books

Today I bought a new cookery book.  Heaven knows I don't need one but that's never stopped me before and it didn't this time when our Book People rep came calling with Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's latest offering.  Besides, it provided me with the perfect opportunity to publish a post I've been mulling over for some time now.

So here it is, my definitive(?) Top Ten Cookery Books

1. Good Housekeeping -  This was one of the first cookery books I bought and its the one I turn to most often to find out how long to roast a joint, the ratio of flour to butter to milk in a white sauce or the correct way to sterilise jam jars.  It cost me 50p in an introductory offer to a book club in my final year at university and has been with me ever since.  It has lost both back and front covers and its pages are scuffed and stained, but I wouldn't trade it in for any other book.
2. Real Food (Nigel Slater) - It's not just the recipes but Nigel Slater's attitude to food that appeals to me.  This is solid everyday cookery, the sort of food you would be happy to eat time and time again.  And we do!
3. How to Eat (Nigella Lawson) - Nigella Lawson is another of my food heroes.  This is a chunky book and it took me a while to justify the expense.  But it's one I've never regretted.  It's the kind of cookery book I can sit and read just for the pleasure of the prose.  And as I read it I can hear her voice in my head.  Gosh, I must have been watching too much TV!
4. The New Covent Garden soup Company's Book of Soups - We Scots are brought up on soup.  It practically runs in our veins.  I love it.  It's warm and nourishing and easy to prepare and is the perfect way to use up odd bits and pieces lying around the kitchen.  But sometimes it's good to start from scratch and boil up something special and this book has plenty to chose from.
5. The Good Cook (Simon Hopkinson) - I've come late to Simon Hopkinson, through his recent TV series.  He came across as a gentle man and his recipes are a reflection of his manner.
6. Indian Cookery (Savitra Chowdhary) - I inherited this book from my mother, although I have a feeling that it was my Dad who made more use of it.  I don't use many of its recipes but it's where I turn for a basic dhal and gajar halwa, my all time favourite Indian sweetmeat.
7. Mediterranean Cookery (Claudia Roden) - I love the aromatic flavours of Middle Eastern food and Claudia Roden's book is a veritable feast for the senses.
8. Delia Smith's Christmas (Delia Smith) - No list would be complete without a Delia Smith and this is my favourite.  In  years when I've opted for a traditional turkey dinner I've followed her countdown to Christmas dinner almost to the second.  And it's her mincemeat recipe every time!
9. How to be a Domestic Goddess (Nigella Lawson)  Nigella's second appearance but as this is the book I turn to first when I get the urge to bake she deserves it.
10. The Book of Children's Party Cakes (Ann Nicol) - From when they were old enough my daughters have been presented with this book a couple of weeks before their birthdays and asked to choose their cake.  Even the most complicated cakes are simple when you follow the instructions step by step.

So this is my list.  What about you?  Would any of these books feature on yours?  Have you any personal favourites to recommend?

Classical Gas

It's been a long time since I last sang in a classical choir.  Not since I was at school and university.  Highlights of my 'singing career' include Zadok the Priest with Leith Academy in the Usher Hall and Mozart's Requiem with Edinburgh University in Dunblane Cathedral.

My dad was brought up in a Scottish Episcopal church where he was a choir boy.  He, and my Mum,  sang in the Pune Choral Society so that, despite being brought up in India, I was exposed to European choral music from an early age.

A few years ago, after having spent a long time on the waiting list, I joined the Gasworks Choir.  It's an 'acappella choir' (Italian for 'in the manner of the church' ie unaccompanied, as opposed to 'cantata' which is accompanied).  I initially found it quite scary to have to sing without music, but I soon got the hang of it and have thoroughly enjoyed singing a wide variety of different genres.

However part of me still yearned for the choral singing of my youth and so I was delighted when Dee announced that she was going to start a Classical Gas choir.  After two workshops to brush up my rusty sight singing skills I attended the first practice this morning.  We started with three pieces by Byrd, Vivaldi and Lauridsen, each completely different yet equally beautiful pieces of music.  They're not easy and will require a great deal of practice at home if I'm to master them but I'm relishing the challenge because I'm certain it will repay me many times over.

An added bonus is that we will performing our pieces in the inspiring setting of St James Priory, a former Benedictine priory and the oldest building in Bristol.  It promises to be a night to remember.  

Advent

Today is Advent Sunday but for me the Christmas season kicked off yesterday with the morning spent gift shopping and the afternoon singing/listening to the Messiah.

I was brought up in India, in a city called Pune, which boasted its own choral society.  My parents were both members and I spent many a happy hour sitting at the back of a dusty hall listening to them practice for performances of Judas Maccabeus, Elijah, the Creation and, of course, the Messiah.  My dad had a fine tenor voice and I can still hear his voice when I listen to one or other of the well known arias.

There were 600 singers gathered in the Colston Hall yesterday aftenoon, the majority of whom were regular choir members, but a minority of whom had never sung the Messiah before, and a few of whom were unable to read music.  Nevertheless, under the expert tuition of Adrian Partington, we tackled half a dozen of the choruses, some more familiar than the others, including the most famous of them all, the Hallelujah.

I've been a member of the Gasworks choir for the last three years.  We sing alcapella, so following a score was a novelty and took me back to school and unversity days.

After we'd sung for two hours we took a short break before returning to the hall to hear the Bristol Choral Society perform (from memory) a Mini Messiah to an audience of parents and children.  It's a tribute to the quality of the chorus and musicians and to Adrian Partington's witty and informative commentary that between them they managed to hold the childrens' attention for an hour.  There were the patter of little feet, the murmur of childish voices and the odd wail but it was heartening to witness children being introduced to one of the greatest works of choral music in much the same way as I was so many years ago.

I was interested to hear, on Radio 4's PM broadcast this evening, of the proposal to set up an English Academy. The aim of this body would be to preserve and protect the English language, along the same lines as the Academie Francaise.


As a pedant who cringes at the inappropriate use of the apostrophe and who cannot bear to use text language, I would support such an institution. My dad. who studied English at Glasgow, instilled in me the love of well written English, which has never left me and which, I am happy to report, I appear to have passed on to my elder daughter.


One of the guests on the programme was from the Queen's English Society whose aims are 'to improve standards of English, to encourage people to know more about our wonderful language, to use it more effectively and to enjoy it more'. Hear hear!

Waste Not, Want Not

I've decided that this week we shall live off what I find in our fridge and freezer. The reasons for this are twofold. Firstly because both are full to bursting and secondly because we're shortly to be receiving a French exchange student and I'd like to be able to stock up on something more interesting than leftover bolognaise sauce (not that my homemade bolognaise sauce isn't quite acceptable) but you know what I mean.

This could be a very interesting exercise as I'm one of those annoying people who doesn't always label the containers I put into the freezer. I'm always confident that I'll be able to recognise the contents by their appearance and smell. I've still not learnt that the process of freezing often alters both beyond recognition. I well remember defrosting what I thought was a juicy stew to go with a bowl of pasta, only to discover that it was stewed apples! Not a good combination.

Still, so far so good. Last night I defrosted a chicken breast which I roasted with olive oil and tarragon to go with the girls' couscous salad in their lunch boxes. This evening Alan and I had a puy lentil and vegetable risotto type dish. The girls had a curry. It was unlabelled. I thought it was chicken but it turned out to be beef in a aromatic coconut sauce, which was fine.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

The reason my fridge/freezer is so full is that I rarely throw anything away. Portions of leftover stew, sauces, roast meat etc are packed into containers, labelled (if they're lucky) and buried in the freezer. Smaller amounts find their way to the fridge, ingredients for the next pan of soup, sandwich or stir fry. Alan is an expert at concocting a delicious meal from a combination of most unpromising scraps. His stir frys are legendary. My dad was good with leftovers too. Could it be a man thing? Or maybe it has to do with them both being Scottish?

I've discovered a very helpful website called Love Food Hate Waste. Sponsored by WRAP its aim is to help us shop and cook efficiently and advice on how to use up anything that does get left over. Apparently we throw away about a third of all the food we buy which is a criminal waste, especially in a world where we can no longer expect to have quite as much as we are used to.

One Year On

It's a year since my dad died. I still think of him often, especially when I'm listening to classical music. During the last years of his life his Morningside flat was rarely silent, invariably filled with the sound of an instrument or the human voice coming from the radio or from one of the hundreds of CDs he couldn't resist buying and which I've happily inherited.

It wasn't until he died that I realised that the death of a loved one doesn't merely rob you of their physical presence but of part of yourself - the lifetime of experiences you shared with them - people, places, events, sights, sounds ... My dad was the last link I had with much of my past in India and Edinburgh and that link is now broken forever. There are memories I shared with him and no one else, and now not even him. Thankfully they are overwhelmingly happy ones.

The other thing I've realised is how much of him lives on in me, and my sister and our children - not just in our physical appearance but in what we believe, how we treat other people, what makes us laugh, the things that matter most to us. He was a good man and I hope I'll do him proud.

Let there be Lights

The Christmas before last Dad said that one of the enduring memories of his visit would be these lantern lights around the picture frame. It was the last Christmas he would spend with us.