A Life Story
SHH! Can you spare a minuet? A minute, I mean? I’m over here! I’m the Camerata harpsichord. People so rarely stop to speak. Perhaps they don’t notice me standing quietly here in St Magnus Cathedral near the pillar where they say the saint himself lies. Yes, the saint! Magnus himself!
And there lies the problem. Everyone wants to hear about Magnus. His ancient, draughty cathedral. The story of the bones. The graffiti on its stones. Its stained glass windows, its steps and stairs, its upper reaches. Its hangman’s ladder. Ugh.
I hear it every day. Blah, blah, blah. I could write a song cycle. Or an opera! Meanwhile, I wait here beneath my thick brown coat. I listen. And I look forward to the times when I can slip from my coat, stand centre stage, chatter and sing, join in a suite of dances, a concerto, an oratorio.
Let me tell you a bit about myself – I might even lift the lid on some of my secrets! When I came to Orkney in 1995 – oh yes, I’m a ferry-louper, a sooth-moother – my first home was with Dick and Glenys Hughes and their cocker spaniel, Lucy. Dick directed the St Magnus Festival Chorus. Glenys became Director of the Festival itself for many years. There was always music and singing and coming and going and talk of rehearsals and concerts and composers and music projects. Golden days!
But things change. Everything changes. After a few years I moved to the Cathedral. Very convenient when I had to play in concerts. Even when I wasn’t taking part, I could enjoy the music and feel my strings quiver in happy accord. And now I had the organ as a companion – yes, the organ! I confess I was star-struck when I realised the company I was in. It was simply awe-inspiring when his stops were opened and he sang with full voice and the sound resounded through the nave and transepts and arches and soared up, up beneath the roof!
In 2000 I moved again, a short distance along the road to the Black Pig in Victoria Street. The St Magnus Festival Office in those days! What a busy place it was – especially from March till June. Phones ringing and emails pinging into in-boxes and people – so many! – coming in and out. Festival volunteers, performers, festival-goers. The stories I could tell you about what went on there! The planning and preparation, the gales and haar, the flight delays and cancellations, the missing instruments and concert clothes, the lost poets . . . as I mentioned before, I could write an opera. Perhaps I will when I retire.
Over the years I have been lifted in and out of cars and hoisted in and out of removals vans. I’ve put up with rock and roll on ferries between islands. It all took its toll. From time to time my friends in Camerata would put their heads together and whisper about my rising insurance costs. Oh, that hurt. I did work hard for my keep!
Eventually I had to move out of the Black Pig. I missed all the activity there, all the craic, you know? But I was lucky. I often played continuo with Linda Hamilton and her cello – she was Chair of Camerata for some years, and she said I could move in with her! Now I had a piano for company, and I loved hearing Linda play her cello, and meeting the other instruments that came along with their owners for rehearsals.
I was sad when Linda moved house and I had to move out. 2007 I think that was – doesn’t time fly! But it turned out there was a space in the Cathedral again, right here in the south aisle, near my old friend the organ! I think he was pleased to see me back, even though I chatter too much. Not that he says anything – but I do hear, now and again, just a little sigh escaping through his pipes. So I know. I just know.
Oh, I hope I’m not boring you! What do you think of our Cathedral? Have you travelled far? It’s so exciting, going to new places, don’t you think? Though I do fret about the effects on my body. And my nerves. The stress! Moving around, changing weather, different venues, going from hot to cold, from dry to humid – it all affects me! I’m highly-strung of course. A bit temperamental. Une artiste! But my players do their best to keep me in tune and replace my strings when they break. I see you wince – but it’s really not as painful as it sounds.
In spite of all their care, I do get a little run down. “Owld age doesna come alone,” my friend the organ says. So wise. And he would know – I’ve heard he’s due for a little restoration himself.
John Vetterlein from Rousay – he has visited me from time to time. He’s a musician and a writer, and an astronomer! Well, he came over to Kirkwall when I moved back in here, and gave me a really good overhaul, restringing me and restoring me to good playing order. I was . . . how can I describe it? Over the moon. Quite stellar.
I do like to keep fit. But I have to keep up my appearance too – after all, I am still doing concerts, still in the spotlight at times, and performing with well known players – John Kitchen, Senior Lecturer in Music at Edinburgh University and Edinburgh City Organist! David McGuinness and Concerto Caledonia! George MacPhee, the organist and Master of Choristers at Paisley Abbey! And not so long ago, organist and conductor Michael Bawtree. I’ll stop there. I shouldn’t be name-dropping like this.
Oh, I know, I really shouldn’t worry about my looks. It’s the music that matters. I do like to think I can still play well. Colin Tulloch, now. He makes violins – and restores them too! He can tell some fascinating stories about instruments he’s worked on. And he’s been so very understanding. In 2012 he came along and did some cosmetic work for me! He touched up bits of damaged paintwork, and gave me a good polish and buffing. It took years off me, and did wonders for my confidence.
Yes, I am rather high maintenance. My friends in Camerata used to organise Harpsichord Benefit concerts for me to raise funds for my insurance, my new strings and repairs. I’ve taken on extra work myself, playing with visiting orchestras and ensembles to help pay for my keep! But I don’t go travelling any more. No more car boots. No more ferries to the isles. No more McAdie and Reeve removals vans. Though it was all such good fun back in the day . . .
Every summer the Festival’s piano technician, Alistair MacLean, drops in to see me. We enjoy our little chats. After tuning me on one of these visits, he turned to Glenys Hughes, who has taken good care of me over our 30 years of playing together, and said “SHE’S WILD!”
Glenys’s face fell. But me? I was not one whit dismayed. My heart skipped a beat. My legs tingled. My strings trembled.
WILD! There’s life in me yet, then! Oh, I wanted to dance. A little courante? A jiggety-skippety gigue? A nice long farandole through the nave?
But that old organ – he is so set in his ways – gave a little groan. You know the way they do. And he hissed, “Calm doon lassie. Meno mosso! Più piano! Ye’ll spoil all Mr MacLean’s guid wark! Ye’ll snap a string – or brak a leg!”
Well, perhaps he was right.
It made me very happy when Camerata had their thirtieth anniversary concert, and there I was, centre stage with Michael Bawtree, playing Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 with my friends in Camerata all around me.
So thirty more years? Bring them on!
