Two down, one to go.
10:59 p.m.
There were two, count ’em, two choir concerts today. Don’t ask. Okay, you can ask. It’s like this: There were only supposed to be two shows on the 2nd and 3rd of December respectively. Then the chair of our department (who is chair in somewhat the same manner that Bush became president the first time around) prevailed upon Herr Doktor Professor to add a matinée for Saturday in order to make some more money for the concert series. All right, at one time, the money made at these concerts went into the department’s coffers, it helped to offset other expenses in the series, and if there was anything left over, it was used to buy things, like music stands or instruments (we got a beautiful new marimba like that). However, such is not the case anymore. The money earned at the box office (commonly called the guichet in our part of the country) now goes into a general slush fund and, if the department goes over its budget, the university merely increases it for the following year. That includes expenses relating to the concert series. Capisce?
Somehow, our fearless and misinformed leader hadn’t received that memo. It wasn’t until my own husband, who has just finished a stint as chair for the past two years, met Herr Doktor in the men’s locker room (talk about male bonding) and the latter was complaining about how he had been pressured to put on this extra concert, that that the former informed him of this change in the way such revenue is dealt with. In other words, we put on two shows today for no reason whatsoever. I think there is a certain philosophy professor/choir director who is not very happy. Nonetheless, all three performances were sold out.
Anyway, the first performance at 2:00 p.m. went reasonably well. Actually, it went very well. We nailed the Mozart Te Deum. I came home afterwards, feeling like I was getting a sore throat, and used a ploy that I hadn’t done since high school. I found one of those tiny, one-serving bottles of Cr0wn R0yal in the liquor cupboard, had a shot (there’s still half left, that’ll be for tomorrow), trundled off to bed, and when I awoke I felt marvellous.
While we were waiting to line up, I joined our new classics professor at the window of the area next to the stage, looking out onto the quad with the snow falling, as the classroom where everyone was hanging out was loud and smelly and I was feeling a bit claustrophobic right then. There was a chair with its back to the wall, and I knelt on it, resting my arms on the window ledge, and as I looked outside I remembered how my father would make sure we got on the first car of the subway train when I was a child growing up in T0r0nt0, and I would kneel on the seat and look at the track and tunnel as we rushed forward.
Tonight’s show was less than wonderful. I don’t think enough choir members were able to actually nap between performances, and many of them were exhausted still from last night’s lessons and carols service (which I missed because I went to see Little Princess’ band perform instead). Oh, right, there was also the staying out late drinking beer at the Lion. We mustn’t forget that.
So, the second show, while not really lacking in enthusiasm, was severly compromised in quality of sound. Hubby came to the first half and said it sounded rough, as though some choristers were shouting. I’m sure that was exactly the case. Our encore, though, has never sounded more beautiful. In the lobby afterwards, I was looking for Little Princess (who had been stage managing) so I could go home already, and John B. was talking with someone and chose that precise moment to gesticulate wildly and stick his finger in my eye, my left eye. My first concern was for my contact lens, which it turns out had become lodged under my upper lid. A bit of fishing around fixed everything. But he felt terrible and kept apologizing. I told him just to keep his hands to himself, thank you.
One more concert tomorrow night, one more chance to redeem ourselves. Then, of course, there’s the blow-out bash afterwards. I plan on having fun.
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