I want to be a choirmaster.
I started writing an open letter to the National Blood Service, due to my GREAT ANNOYANCE at them and their rubbishness, but then I went to choir, and the pub, and well, here is how far I'd got:
Dear 'National' Blood Service,
Thank you for your continual harrassment this summer. It's made me question once more whether I really want to give blood, as well as making me feel guilty as hell for not giving blood this summer.
Thing is, though, entirely not my fault. First, you phoned me less than four weeks after I'd last given blood. Reminder for you: the minimum gap is four months, not four weeks. I know you're getting short of O+, but I'm sure you're not that desperate.
I understand the reason you've been contacting me far too soon is because I last gave blood Oop North. Funny, I thought you were a national blood service. I didn't realise I went to university in a different nation. The things you learn.
It might be sensible, given that you actively recruit students, even going so far as to offer ice cream incentives, to realise that students tend to live in two places a lot of the time. And therefore not to have a system which gives us a second donor number for a different part of the country. Thus utterly screwing with your lack of a decent system.
In short, your organisation sucks. See you next week,
T.
Err, yes. Some day there are many more things I need to say (like how rubbish they were in Durham - 3 hours when normally it'd take just one, and treating me as a new donor just because I hadn't given blood in the north before), and I need to get it into a format which is actually suitable for sending to people. In a way which will get results, and a tone of icy disapproval instead of downright gratuituous annoyance. ANYWAY.
Choir was not great. And I am very sad about that. I may have mentioned this before, but I love singing. I really do. I love concentrating to produce the best sound that I possibly can; the attention to detail with proper vowel sounds and phrasing and listening and working hard at it.
But I do not like being patronised; treated like a child who isn't really very bright or doesn't know much about music. I don't like having the best alto line in ages summarily given to be shared by sopranos too, just because the rest of the choir didn't have enough sensitivity to keep it down a bit and let us be heard over the top. (Bloody men.) And I am quite worried, because if the new choirmaster goes on like this, singing in church will cease to be fun, and I can see quite a few people leaving.
BUT things may get better. I'll hope for that, and be glad that I have St. Oswald's, after all, even if the Priory is really mine.
(You know, I think I could do a better job than the new guy tonight. I'd not be patronising, at least; I'd notice when the tenors were a semi-tone flat and not just harangue them about words instead; and no-one I've ever heard before pronounces their vowels like him. Grr. Unfortunately I am not an organist. Nor in Malvern full time. Nor in any way qualified. But I'd like to think I could do quite well with it.)
After choir, I walked up the road to the pub and met Ellie and Sam. 'Twas nice. We chatted for a bit, and then moved on to another pub where we shared a bottle of wine. Of which I drank my share rather quickly, and as such have felt quite unsteady. AH WELL. It was lovely.
And now, I am going to bed. But the wonderful thing is, I don't have to. For NO WORK TOMORROW. Yay the weekend. I will, of course, be working at tidying here or at Grandma's house, but I don't have to get up early for that. Bonne nuit, folks.
Dear 'National' Blood Service,
Thank you for your continual harrassment this summer. It's made me question once more whether I really want to give blood, as well as making me feel guilty as hell for not giving blood this summer.
Thing is, though, entirely not my fault. First, you phoned me less than four weeks after I'd last given blood. Reminder for you: the minimum gap is four months, not four weeks. I know you're getting short of O+, but I'm sure you're not that desperate.
I understand the reason you've been contacting me far too soon is because I last gave blood Oop North. Funny, I thought you were a national blood service. I didn't realise I went to university in a different nation. The things you learn.
It might be sensible, given that you actively recruit students, even going so far as to offer ice cream incentives, to realise that students tend to live in two places a lot of the time. And therefore not to have a system which gives us a second donor number for a different part of the country. Thus utterly screwing with your lack of a decent system.
In short, your organisation sucks. See you next week,
T.
Err, yes. Some day there are many more things I need to say (like how rubbish they were in Durham - 3 hours when normally it'd take just one, and treating me as a new donor just because I hadn't given blood in the north before), and I need to get it into a format which is actually suitable for sending to people. In a way which will get results, and a tone of icy disapproval instead of downright gratuituous annoyance. ANYWAY.
Choir was not great. And I am very sad about that. I may have mentioned this before, but I love singing. I really do. I love concentrating to produce the best sound that I possibly can; the attention to detail with proper vowel sounds and phrasing and listening and working hard at it.
But I do not like being patronised; treated like a child who isn't really very bright or doesn't know much about music. I don't like having the best alto line in ages summarily given to be shared by sopranos too, just because the rest of the choir didn't have enough sensitivity to keep it down a bit and let us be heard over the top. (Bloody men.) And I am quite worried, because if the new choirmaster goes on like this, singing in church will cease to be fun, and I can see quite a few people leaving.
BUT things may get better. I'll hope for that, and be glad that I have St. Oswald's, after all, even if the Priory is really mine.
(You know, I think I could do a better job than the new guy tonight. I'd not be patronising, at least; I'd notice when the tenors were a semi-tone flat and not just harangue them about words instead; and no-one I've ever heard before pronounces their vowels like him. Grr. Unfortunately I am not an organist. Nor in Malvern full time. Nor in any way qualified. But I'd like to think I could do quite well with it.)
After choir, I walked up the road to the pub and met Ellie and Sam. 'Twas nice. We chatted for a bit, and then moved on to another pub where we shared a bottle of wine. Of which I drank my share rather quickly, and as such have felt quite unsteady. AH WELL. It was lovely.
And now, I am going to bed. But the wonderful thing is, I don't have to. For NO WORK TOMORROW. Yay the weekend. I will, of course, be working at tidying here or at Grandma's house, but I don't have to get up early for that. Bonne nuit, folks.