Mary Angela

It was Mum’s 80th birthday last week and - we hope - the start of a much better year for her. Like many of her generation, the last fifteen months or so have been a fairly crappy period and she has struggled at times to lift her spirits. She has good, strong genes though; her own mother is Edna (mentioned in an earlier post) who is just coming up to 101 and between them they have had multiple offspring. Edna had four babies and Mum had seven - and we have all gone on to have our own children - so getting together is challenging and noisy; we fill restaurants.

Mostly, I don’t envy Mum (Mary’s) life compared to mine; she was born at a time when careers such as engineering or car mechanics (which she would have loved) weren’t a serious option and - apart from teaching or nursing - women were expected to have babies and shut up. But there are things I would have liked; Mary’s early life was full of freedom and adventure as they moved from Gibraltar to the Seychelles and Mauritius and East Africa. They travelled mainly by ship which seems impossibly glamorous to me now and her world was full of hours of outdoor play in brilliant sunshine with exotic scenery. I like hearing about the relative lack of worry (or naivety?) of those times. Young women seemed to be less vain, less worried about diet, fitness, certainly knew very little about beauty products and were skilled, resourceful and less wasteful than we are now - naturally living a greener lifestyle. Like many of her contemporaries, Mary wore little or no make up, gained her exercise through walking or cycling, indulged less, drank less and repaired or made clothes rather than throwing them away. Her life (and probably her mind) was quieter, less frantic and treats were carefully rationed. It wasn’t a golden era by any means - but there was more time to think, listen and appreciate.

Mary was/is musical but wears it lightly. She can sing in tune, easily pick out melodies on a piano and can hold her own with harmony. Her taste is up her arse though! There have been many moments of mild irritation and tension between us about this in the past, and yet… it was Mary who first started taking us to Christmas concerts at the Royal Albert Hall. I regard this as being one of the critical moments of my musical inspirations; we used to sit behind the orchestra and watch the percussionists… ‘hmmm’ - I thought ‘that looks like fun.’ It was Mary who pushily asked if I could play percussion at our Saturday morning music centre, it was Mary who even first suggested that I went, and it was Mary who encouraged international musical travel with County ensembles when they were offered to me. There are four girls in our family (three boys) and she took us to ballet, tap and modern dance - all huge musical inspirations - and also to the local children’s choir and youth orchestra. When my brothers were blasting out the Thin Lizzy ‘Live and Dangerous’ album very loudly from their rooms, or Queen or Supertramp or Capital Radio from the kitchen, she never minded. I think she liked it (and would sometimes demonstrate this enthusiastically by clapping cringily on beats one and three - the correct pulse - but so wrong! Musos - you know what I mean). But the point is all these different sounds were energising, enriching, life-affirming and were noisy, messy accompaniments to our lives.

In recent years, Mary has been able to support some of that latent musicality, due to the simple fact of having more time. She has joined choirs and been to a couple of performances that I was in. In 2017, I was conducting in a Wind Orchestra conference in in Utrecht and we had a ball. That week involved going to two concerts a day with Mary pottering around the town centre in the mornings whilst I attended lectures or meetings, followed by watching a performance and supper down by the canal. We were blessed with warm weather and Mary was treated by the Americans in particular with affection and respect; ‘you picked a great Mom!’ they used to say to me. Mother positively basked in the regal attention.

The cultural enrichment continues; a couple of years ago we went to a Prom and once again, chose to sit behind the orchestra. It was such a good call; the main piece was ‘The Confession of Isobel Gowdie’ by James MacMillan and we were fully immersed in the intensity and drama of that performance; easily able to watch the percussionists and the conductor do their stuff, and it never felt as if there were any audible compromises. The same trip involved a visit to the ‘Handel and Hendrix’ museum, concluding a music-packed couple of days. The point is, Mary wasn’t bored at all - and believe me this was a new experience for me to observe. Mary has always found it impossible to disguise her boredom and would blatantly yawn, fall asleep or abruptly change the subject when things become tedious in her eyes - but none of this happened and it was revelatory.

She has never quite said this, but I think Mary is enjoying having more musical senior years - which is why the restrictions of this last year have been so painful. I have plans; I want to take her to some jazz and folk gigs as well as more classical concerts - there is so much to see and hear. And so much to share. Happy Birthday Mum.

Uplifting Music of the day: ‘Mambo’ by Bernstein - as performed by the Simon Bolivar orchestra and conducted by Gustavo Dudamel. The first time I saw this youtube clip I cried, along with many of my musical friends. ‘Uplifting’ barely does it credit and it is an orchestral performance that resonates with all the joy of humanity. It is also somewhere that Mum and I meet in the middle taste-wise; she saw West Side story when it first came out in the theatre in London.

Contemplative music of the day: ‘First Cry’ from the album ‘First Cry’ by Anthony Kerr and Jacqui Dankworth. It is a shimmeringly hot day today, and this music feels appropriate. The whole album is beautifully played by Anthony (a previous teacher of mine) on vibes and marimba, Bosco De Oliviera, Stan Sulzmann and Paul Clarvis. Jacqui is as usual in pingingly crystal clear form and the pieces have an ethereal wispy-like quality.