More work needed on myself!!

Oh dear. Last night I discovered that I’m still capable of unseemly outburst of anger when I’m upset. I thought I was done with all that, that I had mellowed. Not so. Evidently my equanimity goes unchallenged because I don’t usually get exposed to situations in which something might happen to set me off! 

It was all going so well too; unexpectedly well. I’d agreed, reluctantly, to accompany a friend to the 9th birthday of the Big Choir, a friendly singing group started with the express intention of including all those who want to sing, irrespective of whether they can hold a note or not, in the believe that everyone can with practice. I’ve never joined because I didn’t want to shake their faith by setting them up for a depressing failure! (And because I am unsociable.) The choir now meets in a beautifully renovated church that has been saved from becoming a storehouse for potatoes by becoming a venue for social events as well as a church. The comfortable padded seats, each with a ledge on the back for prayer books etc, are all moveable and can become dining chairs at will. Light but sturdy trestle tables covered with gingham are set up down the length of the hall, the altar and hymn numbers stay discreetly under the tall stained glass windows at the West end (odd that.Shouldn’t it be the East?) There is a marble memorial plaque on the wall half way along one side and a handsome carved wooden cross on the other but they are both benign, not at all oppressive. The height of the hall gives wonderful acoustics; some soft lighting and candles turn it into a very pleasant space. 

It was a pot luck supper. When everything had arrived the tables did look as if they might groan. I wished I had taken my camera - as usual. By some magic, as always does occur at pot lucks I’ve found, there was a wide variety and a good balance of savoury dishes. I’d taken chicken pieces rolled in oat bran, parmesan and chilli because I knew most of that choir are vegetarian and veggie food tends to be heavy and full of carbs! There were some tasty salads. Sadly (for me) there were also wonderful puddings, notably a couple of roulades which I love. In the end I had a small piece of one to calm the bitterness of deprivation. It might have been the niggling urge to eat a whole lot more that added to the final rage. I do find it’s all or nothing with me. Now I understand how an alcoholic must feel. One sip or bite and you’re lost!   

The evening began with a blessing circle, something I had forgotten about but very New Age, which the choir members aren’t exclusively but at least one of the leaders is. I suppose it’s friendly, inclusive, and does neatly mark the beginning and end of affairs.

There was wine. I hadn’t expected that because it was in a church. Silly me. Didn’t Our Lord himself... etc. I had several (small) glasses of something white which, as I almost never drink these days, went straight to my head. (That may have had something to do with the uncontrolled outburst later.)

Food eaten, the choir got together and sang some jolly African songs, probably hymns, very heavy on the rhythm. I wished I could join in but am glad I was able to restrain myself. I did have some control left.

Then there was entertainment. Several people got up, ceilidh style when the mood took them, to sing a capella, some folksy songs, one in Gaelic, all very beautiful and strong. A man sang ‘I did it my way’ with conviction. Then a woman joined him and he sang something from ‘My Fair Lady,’ ‘I Have often walked..’ That was rather less successful because their voices didn’t harmonise well. Says she, whose voice could only harmonise with a bullfrog. Still, I do know what’s right musically and what’s not. A young chap did a very clever ventriloquist act with a dummy that wasn’t at all creepy. A woman told us a story about a snake who could ‘unriddle’ dreams. I’m never sure about stories that have meaning, except perhaps the Sufi ones. The point of this  tale missed me by a mile, In fact it seemed to suggest that our behaviour is influenced by the times we live in and we’re not responsible for our actions, which is a depressing rather than an uplifting thought, but still, she told it well.

Then, oh best beloved, the ventrilquist chappie who had made me laugh moments before, stood up and launched into a song about the last, lonely, sad, despairing, weeping, injured whale; the last leviathan.  It upset me. I told my friend I had had enough and we started to leave. The evening began to break up, everybody started making a move, - I bet it was that song, although he received tumultuous applause because that’s what you give to right-on songs about Green issues (bitterly). As I got my coat and retrieved my dish someone I know and like asked me if I had enjoyed the evening. I said, loudly, that I had enjoyed everything except that last piece of sentimental, mawkish, melodramatic crap! 

I hope not too many people heard!