My Musings days are well and truly over, but since this blog still gets more hits in a day than my others receive in a month, I thought I'd post this video here - a montage of photos of Mersea which appeared on Musings from a Muddy Island in years gone by. All part of my new business venture (a sideline, not a principal source of income, don't worry!), which you can, should you wish, find out more about here.
If you enjoyed that, there are more photos from the Muddy Island on the other videos in our youtube channel .
Showing posts with label The Mersea Session. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Mersea Session. Show all posts
Friday, 2 December 2011
Monday, 23 August 2010
My Mersea Week IV - Shanty Night
To celebrate the spirit of Mersea Week, the Coast Inn Acoustic Session held a special nautically themed night on Thursday 12th August.
We advertised it as 'Shanty Night' - and traditional seafaring tunes certainly played a large part in the evening's musicmaking - but all kinds of songs inspired by the sea (some with a fairly tenuous link) appeared - from The Drunken Sailor (twice!), to Row Your Boat (played by IM on the piano - the evening's youngest performer and witness to my lax parenting standards), to Yellow Submarine (at which point, as if from nowhere, a fantastic visiting trumpeter appeared at the window and inserted the solo twiddly bits with considerable panache, which brought the house down).
A couple of hours before kick-off, we made the executive decision NOT to hold the event outdoors - despite the gorgeous late sunshine and a holding-off of the forecast rain, there was a stiff breeze blowing straight into the garden of the Coast Inn, which would have dispersed the sound and made conditions too chilly for drinkers. So we held it in the bar as usual, which made for a packed-out night, but it all added to the atmosphere. A record number of musicians and singers turned up, plus all the regular punters and plenty of visitors (including lovely fellow-Mersea Blogger Teresa, aka Tarviragus, although unfortunately the occasion did not lend itself to much in the way of quiet chatting).
Next morning, the general consensus on the island was that Shanty Night had been a Jolly Good Thing, which should certainly be repeated next year. So perhaps we've started a grand new tradition for Mersea Week - it would be rather nice to think so.
Here are a few grainy pics (I don't like using flash - it's too distracting for performers): lots more can be found on the Mersea Session Website. As explained there, the bar was so crowded that I ended up trapped, standing on a table, by the fireplace, camera in one hand, tambourine in the other, glass of Guinness balanced precariously above me - hence the unvarying viewpoint of these photos.
We advertised it as 'Shanty Night' - and traditional seafaring tunes certainly played a large part in the evening's musicmaking - but all kinds of songs inspired by the sea (some with a fairly tenuous link) appeared - from The Drunken Sailor (twice!), to Row Your Boat (played by IM on the piano - the evening's youngest performer and witness to my lax parenting standards), to Yellow Submarine (at which point, as if from nowhere, a fantastic visiting trumpeter appeared at the window and inserted the solo twiddly bits with considerable panache, which brought the house down).
A couple of hours before kick-off, we made the executive decision NOT to hold the event outdoors - despite the gorgeous late sunshine and a holding-off of the forecast rain, there was a stiff breeze blowing straight into the garden of the Coast Inn, which would have dispersed the sound and made conditions too chilly for drinkers. So we held it in the bar as usual, which made for a packed-out night, but it all added to the atmosphere. A record number of musicians and singers turned up, plus all the regular punters and plenty of visitors (including lovely fellow-Mersea Blogger Teresa, aka Tarviragus, although unfortunately the occasion did not lend itself to much in the way of quiet chatting).
Next morning, the general consensus on the island was that Shanty Night had been a Jolly Good Thing, which should certainly be repeated next year. So perhaps we've started a grand new tradition for Mersea Week - it would be rather nice to think so.
Here are a few grainy pics (I don't like using flash - it's too distracting for performers): lots more can be found on the Mersea Session Website. As explained there, the bar was so crowded that I ended up trapped, standing on a table, by the fireplace, camera in one hand, tambourine in the other, glass of Guinness balanced precariously above me - hence the unvarying viewpoint of these photos.
Sunday, 4 July 2010
An island weekend and TBTE
Well, a whole week has gone by (as they frequently do) when I haven't set foot off the island. Not since returning from the most delicious fish and chip supper on the Quay at Maldon last Saturday night. And this is a huge part of the charm of island living for me - the wonderful self-contained, self-sufficiency of it all. (OK, admittedly, I sailed across the Blackwater to Bradwell and back yesterday evening, but I don't think that counts. It wasn't by car and I didn't land anywhere!)
I used to refer to my children here as Small Doyles (SDs) 1, 2 and 3. But since numbers 1 and 2 are now no longer smaller than me (in height, if not girth!), I'm going to have to change the terminology. They'll doubtless object to any clever acronyms I might devise, so for now they can simply be O, elder daughter, freshly emerged from the rigours of GCSEs, looking forward to a summer of music festivals, unrestrained Facebook interaction and never having to do another physics or German exam again in her life; H, pining slightly for rugby but rejoicing in his new-found prowess in javelin and triple-jump, living a Swallows and Amazons existence whenever he can, rowing 'Sea Pig' (of which more soon) with his mates around the creeks and tiny islands off Mersea; and IM, uber girly girl, owner and wearer, by default, of my entire collection of high-heeled party shoes (not items of attire I need much, if ever, these days), obsessive hair-stylist and The One With The Performing Gene.
Much of the weekend was taken up by IM's appearance in Mersea Island Youth Player's' ambitious summer production, The Junction, with performances on Friday and Saturday nights. On Friday, O and H accompanied me to the island's theatre at the MICA centre, seated cabaret-style, for an interesting, if sometimes unsettling experience. The gritty urban storyline, devised by some of the older members of the ensemble - and all credit to them for their imagination - was hardly bedtime story fodder for the 8-year-olds (IM, for example) in the cast, in my view, but maybe that's because I'm an Older Mother and not a hip, cool, whereitsat one. But the dancing, costumes, lighting and general spectacle were superb, and the months of rigorous rehearsal were well rewarded. Directed, produced and musically devised by a dedicated team of islanders, all regular performers at The Mersea Session, The Junction was a splendid showcase of young Mersea talent.
What weather we are having! Today was another cloudless scorcher - but here we have the sea breezes to mitigate the otherwise oppressive heat. I had stacks of work to do, but luckily it was of the scribbling-with-red-pen-on-piles-of-paper kind, so I was able to sit in the garden (paperweights to the fore) for five hours and got through another few chapters before the insistent siren wail of the ironing mound could be borne no longer, and in I came to wrestle with sheets, shirts and skirts, and got a bit steamy.
After hearing IM read another chapter of Matilda aloud, do her guitar practice and finally, after a good deal of prevarication, get into bed, I zipped out for a quick circuit of West Mersea on my lovely 1964 green Triumph Ladies' Bicycle (with basket, naturally) to take the night air and stretch the creaking legs before night fell (the bike being unilluminated, since H 'borrowed' and subsequently broke my last set of lights - and not for the first time, either). Here are the resulting TBTE pics, the first two featuring the historic Oyster Sheds, soon to be demolished, despite vociferous local oposition, to make way for a 'fine dining' restaurant (all highly controversial - more soon) the latter two taken from the Best Office On The Island.
I used to refer to my children here as Small Doyles (SDs) 1, 2 and 3. But since numbers 1 and 2 are now no longer smaller than me (in height, if not girth!), I'm going to have to change the terminology. They'll doubtless object to any clever acronyms I might devise, so for now they can simply be O, elder daughter, freshly emerged from the rigours of GCSEs, looking forward to a summer of music festivals, unrestrained Facebook interaction and never having to do another physics or German exam again in her life; H, pining slightly for rugby but rejoicing in his new-found prowess in javelin and triple-jump, living a Swallows and Amazons existence whenever he can, rowing 'Sea Pig' (of which more soon) with his mates around the creeks and tiny islands off Mersea; and IM, uber girly girl, owner and wearer, by default, of my entire collection of high-heeled party shoes (not items of attire I need much, if ever, these days), obsessive hair-stylist and The One With The Performing Gene.
Much of the weekend was taken up by IM's appearance in Mersea Island Youth Player's' ambitious summer production, The Junction, with performances on Friday and Saturday nights. On Friday, O and H accompanied me to the island's theatre at the MICA centre, seated cabaret-style, for an interesting, if sometimes unsettling experience. The gritty urban storyline, devised by some of the older members of the ensemble - and all credit to them for their imagination - was hardly bedtime story fodder for the 8-year-olds (IM, for example) in the cast, in my view, but maybe that's because I'm an Older Mother and not a hip, cool, whereitsat one. But the dancing, costumes, lighting and general spectacle were superb, and the months of rigorous rehearsal were well rewarded. Directed, produced and musically devised by a dedicated team of islanders, all regular performers at The Mersea Session, The Junction was a splendid showcase of young Mersea talent.
What weather we are having! Today was another cloudless scorcher - but here we have the sea breezes to mitigate the otherwise oppressive heat. I had stacks of work to do, but luckily it was of the scribbling-with-red-pen-on-piles-of-paper kind, so I was able to sit in the garden (paperweights to the fore) for five hours and got through another few chapters before the insistent siren wail of the ironing mound could be borne no longer, and in I came to wrestle with sheets, shirts and skirts, and got a bit steamy.
After hearing IM read another chapter of Matilda aloud, do her guitar practice and finally, after a good deal of prevarication, get into bed, I zipped out for a quick circuit of West Mersea on my lovely 1964 green Triumph Ladies' Bicycle (with basket, naturally) to take the night air and stretch the creaking legs before night fell (the bike being unilluminated, since H 'borrowed' and subsequently broke my last set of lights - and not for the first time, either). Here are the resulting TBTE pics, the first two featuring the historic Oyster Sheds, soon to be demolished, despite vociferous local oposition, to make way for a 'fine dining' restaurant (all highly controversial - more soon) the latter two taken from the Best Office On The Island.
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