One of the joys of living in the very centre of Hebden Bridge is that when I step outside my apartment I find myself in the very centre of the hustle and bustle of the town and unexpected things can happen. Take this morning, for instance. I needed to go to the Post Office to purchase some stamps. Unlike yesterday when we had torrential rain until tea-time it was clear, but since the post office is only across the street – less than three minutes walk – I put on my sandals and off I went. Imagine my perturbation when I found men painting the door and a sign saying ‘Closed for Two Weeks.’ I mean – it’s the town’s only post office and the only place to purchase international stamps. ‘Where’s the nearest one?’ I asked. ‘Mytholmroyd.’ OK, it’s only a mile and a half’s walk along the canal. It’s incredibly liberating to be faced with such a decision. I mean, I hadn’t got anything else planned for this morning! I wondered if I should go back home and change into boots but basically I couldn’t be bothered, so off I set, to the accompanying choir of mallards and geese. Puddle-jumping certainly increased the excitement of the walk and once in the village I had to ask for directions to the Post Office, but everything got done that needed to be done.
Rather than walk back I thought I’d get the train. I passed by the church and on an impulse decided to try the door. Someone had told me it was worth taking a look inside. I was somewhat taken aback when the door opened and someone called, “Yawreet?” It was immediately obvious that major renovation work was taking place and none other than the vicar was there to show me round. I was invited to the rededication on November 5th. ‘With or without fireworks?’ I inquired. The church was severely damaged in the Boxing day floods of 2015. This week the organ has been removed for renovation and they have installed a little portative one that needs to be mic’d. I was also told that the carol service is lovely. In 1922 the whole chancel was decorated in mosaic and the carol service is by candle light bringing out the glittering gold glass fragments. Back to Hebden on the train. It takes 5 minutes and I noticed that it was market day. I took a quick glance around buying Brussel sprouts, Spring onions and garlic but I was very tempted by the Mexican and Indian food trucks.
After lunch I went to Cafe Culture at the Town Hall. A guest speaker was giving a talk with musical accompaniment about the roll of the music hall and variety shows during the 1st and 2nd World Wars. From what I could gather most of the attendees had come in a bus from Age UK – perhaps that’s a nursing home. One man in a powered wheelchair was complaining light heartedly that the bus had left him but he’d beaten it to the venue! Filled was ‘daft’ jokes which are apparently typical of Yorkshire humour, while Liverpool jokes are ‘witty’ , the guest serenaded us with banjo, ukelele and mandola (a Spanish mandolin).
Arriving home I unpacked my iron that I’d bought in Halifax yesterday. It’s tiny – and it doesn’t have a handle. Still, it should do for quilting. I ironed all the fabric scraps that I had picked up at the Rag Fair on Saturday and am eager to begin my Doors project. Then I set about trying to figure out how to record myself on my keyboard – using a Sequencer. Consulting an online manual is not my strong point but I was quite thrilled when I actually recoded myself playing my ‘Andorran Landscape.’
When I looked through the window this morning everything looked fuzzy. I realised that the windows were covered in condensation, something I’d forgotten existed after living with double glazing for the last 12 years! The thermometer outside registered a chilly 42F as I set off for the station to catch the train to Manchester. On the canal the boats were spewing smoke from their furnaces, but I have to admit that it looked very 
picturesque. The new Stoller Hall, the recital hall at Chetham’s School of Music is directly across the road from Victoria station. The hall was filled with far more students than members of the public. Some of the students couldn’t have been more than 8 years old so it was asking a lot of them to sit still for the hour’s recital and then a two hour masterclass but they seemed very used to this sort of thing. I remember one of my classmates at Bolton School, a vocalist called Freda Farnworth, leaving when she was about 13 to go to Chetham’s. Sir Humphrey Chetham (10 July 1580 – 1653) was an English 
Rachmaninov before launching into Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard the original piano version of this work. I’m far more familiar with Ravel’s orchestrated version and Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s version. (Keith Emerson, by the way, was a native of Todmorden where I’d spent the previous morning at the market). Simon’s performance was magical! He made sounds on the piano that I’d never heard before – amazing! In the masterclass that followed four students from year 12 and 13 performed Russian pieces as part of this festival marking the 100th anniversary of the Russian revolution. The final student , Elias Ackerley, played Rachmaninov’s Sonata #2 – unbelievable. Within an hour of the final note I was sitting in the White Lion in Hebden Bridge where I bumped into Nicola and friends for the first time since I took residence.
Recent Comments