Her First Ball - Fleur Adcock published in 'The Spectator', 4 October 2008

Her First Ball - Fleur Adcock

For the school dance I wore a circular skirt --
full length, and a full-circle swirl of apple green;
I bought the pattern; my mother made the frock.

But what to do with my hair: so little-girlish,
too long? Auntie Phil came up with a green snood
and an Alice-band on which (her brainwave)

she pinned sprigs of daphne -- most waxen-petalled,
extravagantly-scented of real flowers,
from the bush by our door -- to intoxicate,

as it turned out, my classmate Dell's very tall
brother Ken, who danced with me all evening,
his nose hovering above the honeyed wafts.

After my friends' lunchtime coaching in the gym
I managed the quicksteps and foxtrots all right,
even in gold sandals (we all wore gold sandals).

As for underneath, I'd been given no option:
Phil and my mother had tracked down in some shop
a pair of kneelength, scratchy woollen drawers

to protect my kidneys from chills, they insisted.
I was too naive to see at the time
what it was they really wanted to guard.

published in 'The Spectator' 4 October 2008

Swiping left on Larkin by Imtiaz Dharker

 Swiping left on Larkin
Imtiaz Dharker

Here he is younger, his shoulders
thinner. She flicks a finger,
swipes left. He
is dismissed without a flicker.

If they pass on the street, she sees
a boy trudge by with a book and satchel
under the arm, on the way to a lifetime
of drudge, easy to overlook.

In the edge of his eye she is a blur
between staying or dying,
a whiff of abroad, the chaos
of prams and infants teething.

At the end of every birth is grieving.
He takes the dark for a walk, his light
on a leash through the sputtering streets
of a town caught in the act of drowning.

From a window a curtain is waving
but his back is turned. Shops shut up
and shutters come down on the chatter
of living, the guttering years.

All roads lead to a leaving.
He goes in to the bar of the station hotel,
sits for a while. When he leaves, he leaves
a pale ring on the table. Gold

spills out of basements over his feet.
He walks down a street and out
of his name. Beyond rumour and fame,
a flurry of letters blown into gutters,

the glitter of language on cobbles,
his words remain
bright as believing or half-believing,
At the end of the world there is always

the sea and its breathing,
swiping right, swiping right
across a blue screen
to something beginning.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2022/aug/09/philip-larkin-flinched-from-intimacy-social-media-imtiaz-dharker-swiping-left-on-larkin

A Human Haunt by Carol Ann Duffy

A Human Haunt by Carol Ann Duffy

St Mary Overie, St Saviour, Southwark,
over the river, a human haunt in stone,
thousand years here, the sweet Thames well recalls.
Who came? Nuns, brothers, in good faith, saints,
poets- John Gower, whose blind head, look, rests
on the pillow of his books; Chaucer, imagining
the pilgrims’ first steps on the endless written road
we follow now, good readers; Shakespeare,
with twenty cold shillings for a funeral bell-
players, publicans, paupers, politicians, princes,
all to this same, persistent, changing space,
between fire and water, theatre and marketplace;
us, lighting our candles in the calm cathedral,
future ghosts, eating our picnic on a bench.

from http://cathedral.southwark.anglican.org/news/Carol-Ann-Duffy

Another Slice by Roy Kelly (published in 'The Spectator', 30 January 2016)

Another Slice by Roy Kelly

All the books stored above our heads,
all the books there aren’t enough hours
to read again, and still we hesitate
to banish them complete.

The second-hand life, charity shops,
jumble sales, car boot fields:
the slow long-term dance,
temporary ownership, possession and loss.

Charity shops can take anything unwanted,
books and LPs, the unfashionable fashions,
but all those hours that used to be you,

what ever happened to them? Sometimes,
as with burnt toast, things can’t be salvaged
or scraped right. You have to discard. Start again.

published in ‘The Spectator’ 30 January, 2016

A Miscellany on Books and Writing

Literary novelists

from 'Diary' by P D James, published in The Spectator 30 January 2010

A recent prize-giving has awakened my interest in discovering the definition of a literary novelist. I can define, at least for my own satisfaction, what is meant bya literary publisher: that is, one who would never publish a book he or she would be ashamed to be seen reading on the Underground. But defining a literary novel is beyond me. There are no sour grapes about this inquiry since only the most fragile egos would be bruised by omission from this mysterious category. Does the secret lie in the subject matter? It seems not, although a high proportion of literary novelists are apparently attracted to post-colonial stories, the recent or remote past, or fantasy. Does the distinction lie in literary style? Certainly a few literary novelists develop a style which makes demands on the reader’s comprehension, but others write with exemplary clarity and grace. That said, I doubt whether P.G. Wodehouse has ever been regarded as a literary novelist. Today Mr Ishiguro is a literary novelist, and Mr Le Carré is not — or so it appears. I doubt whether either writer is much concerned either way, but why does this difference arise and who decides? Once awarded the accolade, by whatever method, it seems that the distinction is never lost, and however disparaging or hostile the reviews of subsequent books may be, a literary novelist apparently remains so for life.

On the perception of reality

"The young boy who plays the part of the queen - we know he is a boy because Hamlet lets us know this when he begs to hope that young man's voice hasn't broken. Think of the Elizabethan audience though! They are watching a play, which has inside it another play, with a young boy in it - the young player - playing the part of Hamlet's own mother, who is herself a character we are watching on the stage, who is also sitting watching a play. So, we, the audience, are watching a play about an audience watching a play in which a young lad is dressed up to play the part of a woman who is watching him. And her part is also played by a boy, but this time we are supposed to be fooled by it! And what is it all for - this 'glass of art'? To reflect back to us our own preening, pretending selves. Can you image a more amusing introduction to the enigma of 'reality'?" - -- Salley Vickers, instances of the number 3 (pp285-6)

Samuel Johnson, on an essay: "I found your essay to be good and original. However, the part that was original was not good and the part that was good was not original."

Oscar Wilde on his writing

Thomas Wright, whose lovingly researched Oscar’s Books looks into all aspects of Wilde’s bookish passions, stresses Wilde’s proficiency in ancient Greek, proven, better perhaps than by his double first at Oxford, by copious and learned annotations in his copies of Homer, Plato, Euripides and many others. But the external beauty of books, too, mattered greatly to Wilde: though he considered books practical objects and would sometimes cut pages out of them for his own use, he delighted in elaborate bindings, exquisite first editions and cream paper with wide margins. Wilde’s bibliophilia (like his other passions) was tempered by intelligent humour. Wright reminds us that Wilde once declared his intention of bringing out a limited edition of his poem ‘The Sphinx’ in a print-run of just three copies: ‘One for myself, one for the British Museum, and one for Heaven. I have some doubts,’ he added, ‘about the British Museum.’

from a review by Alberto Manguel of 'Oscar's Books' by Thomas Wright published in The Spectator, 11 April 2009

Tom Stoppard on Language and Words

[Brodie]’s a lout with language. I can’t help somebody who thinks, or thinks he thinks, that editing a newspaper is censorship, or that throwing bricks is a demonstration while building tower blocks is social violence, or that unpalatable statement is provocation while disrupting the speaker is the exercise of free speech… Words don’t deserve that kind of malarkey. They’re innocent, neutral, precise, standing for this, describing that, meaning the other, so if you look after them you can build bridges across incomprehension and chaos. But when they get their corners knocked off, they’re no good any more, and Brodie knocks their corners off. I don’t think writers are sacred, but words are. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones in the right order, you can nudge the world a little or make a poem which children will speak for you when you’re dead.

from Act II Scene 1, The Real Thing by Tom Stoppard

Writing for Children

"Up to now, a whole lot of grown-ups have written reviews, but none of them have really known what they are talking about because a grown-up talking about a children’s book is like a man talking about a woman’s hat." -- Roald Dahl on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Advice for Writers

Until we know what a character wants, we don't know what the story is about.
Until we know what the stakes are, we don't care.

Roast Leg of Lamb with Vegetables

There are so many recipes for cooking a leg of lamb available online, it seems silly adding another one to the collection. However, having spent time trying to find one which would cook everything unattended, I took bits from various recipes and came up with this very simple process which I am am recording here for my sake if no-one else's!

In putting this together, the key piece of equipment needed is a deep roasting tin with a trivet which will allow the meat to sit over the vegetables in the bottom of the tin (something like this).

For the preparation, peel and cut potatoes into roast potato sized chunks, and par-boil them for about 10 minutes. Peel and cut some parsnips into chunks, cut onions (either - or both - red and white) into quarters, and peel a pile of garlic cloves. The quantities of vegetables depend on how many people you are feeding, but a leg of lamb will probably serve 6 to 8.

Put all the vegetables into the bottom of the roasting tin, and drizzle with some olive oil, and throw in a couple of sprigs of rosemary.

Make some nicks in the meat before rubbing it with oil and seasoning with salt and pepper. Then insert some mini-sprigs of rosemary (and/or garlic) into the nicks.

Put the trivet over the vegetables, and put the lamb on the trivet.

Having pre-heated the oven to 190 degrees Celsius, cook the whole thing for about 90 minutes (uncovered), and then leave to rest out of the over (covered) for about 20 minutes.

The meat can be carved, and the vegetables and be served straight out of the tray. The meat juices will have made a delicious gravy in the bottom of the tray which can be served as it is. If you want to dirty some more utensils, transfer the vegetables to a warmed serving bowl and keep them warm in the over, and make a proper gravy in the roasting tin.

While this might not be the most finessed recipe, it is simple, will cook unattended (and can be left on a timer), and will feed a group of people very happily.

You'll never walk alone - H Trevor Shakeshaft, from 'Choir Schools Today' Issue 10 (1996)

H Trevor Shakeshaft, a former Schools' Music Adviser urges more co-operation between state and independent musicians. 

"You've passed - you're on your own now," says the driving instructor to a successful pupil - as though it's good to be on your own. I know that, for me at any rate, the euphoria of success was very soon tinged with apprehension as I realised that I was now solely responsible for a ton of lethal metal, and, even more important, the lives of my passengers.

The same mixed feelings accompany one's qualification as a teacher - only those of us who have experienced it realise how lonely it is to stand in front of a class of youngsters for the first (or, for that matter. the thousandth) time.

And, for music teachers, it's somehow different again. We don't merely have to correct errors like beginning a paragraph with a conjunction . . . . Our work can often bring us into direct conflict with other members of staff, as we plead (yet again!) for the flute players to be released from science so that they can prepare for that concert which has suddenly appeared on the calendar only three days away. Often, then, the music specialist, even in the musically rarefied atmosphere of a Choir School, can feel isolated from colleagues. 

Furthermore, if we project this isolation into the wider field of music education, both state and privately funded, we can find instances of schools which - either from choice or necessity - have little contact with other establishments. 

In many years as a Teacher Adviser for Music in the state sector, I found that it was often the schools where standards in a particular musical field were very high which became cut off from the musical activities of the local community. Schools which could well have helped their feeder establishments experience a high degree of excellence became very inward looking. This, in turn, often led to their own pupils 'losing out' on participation in the perhaps less technically proficient, but certainly socially rewarding activities, like local workshops and non-competitive festivals for example. 

In the state sector, with larger numbers of schools in an area, it is relatively simple to organise concerted activities for several schools. However, in the independent sector, such co-operation can be more difficult for logistical reasons. 

Co-operation between musicians in the state and independent sectors need not be difficult - and there are some organisations which support and encourage such contact. Since my retirement from full time teaching/advising a couple of years ago, I have become involved in two such organisations - the Incorporated Society of Musicians (ISM) and the Schools Music Association (SMA). Earlier this year, the Warwickshire Centre of the ISM organised a Choral Celebration, involving well over 100 singers, ranging in age from 8 to ... (well, much older, anyway!). Each of the five choirs sang for the others, then all combined in a specially composed piece which was rehearsed and performed at the end of the evening. 

The West Midlands Region of the SMA, which has recently been re-established, held a course for music teachers at the University of Central England in Birmingham, and we are in the early stages of planning, along with the East Midlands Region, a combined orchestral event for the more advanced players (around Grade 6 upwards) from - probably - independent schools in the whole of the Midlands area. Also in the planning stage are a West Midlands Region SMA teachers' course in the Spring term, and other events set up by the Warwickshire Centre of the ISM. 

I imagine that in the vast majority of cases, I am preaching to the converted, but just in case there are even a few readers who, as music teachers, would welcome the opportunity to discuss issues of common interest with other musicians in education and in other areas of the profession, perhaps you would consider contacting either organisation for further details of membership and information about what is going on in your area - after all you have nothing to lose but the cost of a stamp, and a great deal to gain - musically, socially, and educationally. 

Both of the organisations allow corporate membership for schools and other establishments, as well as individual membership, and both confer benefits which far outweigh the cost of their subscriptions. As a member of either organisation, or even a participant in a combined schools' event, "You'll never walk alone." 

Addresses:
The Incorporated Society of Musicians, 10 Stratford Place, London W1N 9AE
The Schools Music Association, 71 Margaret Road, New Barnet, Hertforshire, EN4 9NT 

Trevor Shakeshaft is Chairman, West Midlands Region SMA, Secretary,

Warwickshire Centre ISM and an Independent Music Education Consultant 

this article originally appeared in the 1996 edition of 'Choir Schools Today', the magazine of the Choir Schools' Association.