Love, actually

It's been a while since I posted here. It's been a while since I played. Work is very busy. The fan has been having a rough time these last few months. You'd think music would be a solace in all this, but our routines are upset so that finding time to play is difficult, and I've not often been in the mood. I'm feeling bad about leaving the blog, and thinking of drawing a line under it as I always hate it when blogs I follow fizzle out.

So I've been pondering last posts (and have just realised that Last Post would have been the ideal post title!) and how to, as it were, end it all, and my musings have been melancholy as farewells so often are.

Then this evening I've played again and I've thought how much I love this, how much my pipes have brought me. In a way being able to play together has brought the fan and I closer together. I've enjoyed - and continue to enjoy - the community of playing with others. I've enjoyed the blogging - this will be post 609, with two in draft that never got published. I've played for 6 years: Morag, the poor neglected lass, is 6 years old. The Monkey I've had for about 3 and half years which has coincided, I think, with my piping coming on in great strides. I've shaken off stage fright, memorised tunes, put sets together. I've read about piping, and Scotland. I've discovered whole swathes of folk music I never knew existed. I've done so much and I've learned so much and despite the whinges I have loved it. I do love it, in fact. I love the Monkey, I love piping, I love being a piper. And I feel that despite this momentary lull I can go out on a high, and it's not the end, only the end of the beginning.

If you have been on my journey with me, thank you. I'm sorry to leave you, and this blog, but please know that in an enchanted place at the top of the forest a girl and her pipes will always be playing.

Goodbye.

Reprieve

Our session has had its ups and downs, but before we took a summer break things seemed to be on a definite downward slide with dwindling numbers, and the fan and I had several conversatons about calling it a day.

Then last month was a little livelier with the new fiddler. This month the fiddler returned, we had a concertina player (an actual Irish player, which caused some consternation among those who play Irish tunes), and a chap who turned up with a drum, a flute, a whistle, a set of Uillean pipes and a set of lowland pipes. These had two stunted drones, the rest of the tubing apparently being internal. He said they were made by a chap in Arran (presumably at Dunfinion) but his chanter was made by Morag's maker, Simon Hope. He knew some pipe standards, but his gracing was definitely not GHB style, and the whole sound was more like Northumbrian smallpipes.

I had a few wobbles caused by the presence of newcomers, people arriving in a clatter and arranging themselves mid-tune, and probably, also, lack of practice, but On the whole it went well, and everyone seemed to enjoy it. I just hope we can keep it up.

Playing gooseberry

We had a really good session yesterday. Just five of us, but two who don't come often, so the vibe was quite different. The standard of playing was high and we had a real buzz, with the various musicians bouncing ideas off each other, sharing tunes, playing alternative groupings of tunes. Instead of limping towards, and often of late not reaching, our supposed finish time, we were 20 minutes or more past it before anyone asked what the time was.

It wasn't my best evening. I'm not sure if it was new sessioneers, the pub being buzzier than usual, or the impending storm, but I felt a little nervous and didn't play well. I was also reminded that at a proper Irish (OK, so there were a couple of Scots tunes) session with really good players an amateur smallpiper can really only play a couple of guest spots of an evening. I didn't want to break up the flow of music, so mostly I just sat.

One of the musicians took some pictures for the usual social media platform, which confirms my worry that when I play I look as though I'm about to burst into tears...

Making a stand

I try not to think much about posture, simply because it was something that I used to have to think about too often. My mother seems to have spent most of my formative years poking me between the shoulder blades with the injunction to "stand up straight, child", only varied by "sit up straight". The only thing I remember my ballet teaching saying was "head up, bottom in, tummy in", and when I acquired a new violin teacher I remember her opening salvo being "I don't like the way you stand..."

I do sometimes suggest to the fan that his playing might be improved if he didn't hunch over his fiddle while sat on an armed chair, which pins his elbows to his sides. Perhaps it is my aversion to thinking of my own posture that has stopped me realising that if I don't sit up straight then my drones drop onto the stock, and my hands come in close to my body, making me more likely to rest my wrist on the bellows. Not that this moment of enlightenment helped this evening when I found it difficult to get comfortable.

I've been dreaming a lot of my pipes recently. I don't have problems with posture, bellows, wrists or anything else in my dreams. In fact, last night, in a real throwback to my adolescence, I dreamed I could fly, and all the time I was flying I had my pipes in my arms. I'm not sure what an interpreter of dreams would make of this, but I wonder if it's linked to yesterday's session, when I made plenty of mistakes, but did not have one moment of stage fright.

Putting my money where my mouth is

This evening the drummer joined us at the session. And that was it: just him, me and the fan. So I had to pull put all the stops and put my new list into action.

I ran through all the singletons. As Father John didn't make it to Nova Scotia (my first attempt at a three tune set in public) I tried, and failed, to tag the Captn on to the end, and ended up playing it, rather too fast, on its own.

I fluffed (I did a lot of fluffing as nerves came and went) my way through Women, but didn't attempt either Sleat or Braemar, the one because I didn't think I was up to it and the second because I simply couldn't remember how it went.

Still, with the fan leading the other half, or probably two thirds, of the evening, we managed an hour and a half, ending with the audience clapping in time through the King.

I think I maybe getting the hang of this music stuff at last....

Session statistics

How many musicians make a session? Last night there were just the three of us... luckily the other two are multi-instrumentalists, they have a shared repertoire, and the fan and the other guy are getting the hang of my tunes. We were eventually joined by a chap learning some songs, and he gave us a couple, which the other two gamely accompanied him on.

Normally at a sesson I get to play so few times that I have a choice of tunes. Yesterday, by the time I'd done My Home Town, Bonnie Galloway, King of Laoise, the Nova Scotia set, Dargai (without Loch Bee because it took me three goes to remember how to start Dargai so I didn't want to risk it), Magersfontein and Flett and Fathr John I felt I was running out of tunes. The fan advised repeating one or two, but that feels like cheating, like turning back and retracing your steps in a walk, which is a pet hate of mine. I know that my tunes are becoming more familiar to fellow sessioneers so that they are happier to play along, but I'm starting to get bored and feel as though I am churning out the same old. I need (and how many times have I said this?) some new tunes, a couple of new sets , something short and lively and easy to learn...

The other guy did say he was getting the hang of Laoise but wasn't sure how many parts it had... I had to admit that it's just the two: I played some "unauthorised variations".

Despite the smallness of the gathering I had nerves again. I tried remembering to breathe, tried picturing myself safely at home playing to myself, but I think it works best when I just try to listen to the music.

My Home Town we played through four times, at that fan's suggestion ("one more time!") And it was the tune that went best, with both of the others joining in and it felt good.

The audience was small, too, with most people sitting outside in the sun. Mostly we had just the one, later joined by two others. They wandered off, but came back before they left to say how much they enjoyed it. The other fan was barely two, at a guess, and utterly mesmerised by music and musicians.

L'esprit de l'escalier

On Saturday I played for half an hour, then the fan and I played together, and one way and another the best part of two and a half hours flew by. We tried some of my session sets, and some new tunes (John MacMillan of Barra), and the fan pressed me to ever more speed on Miss G and others.

On Sunday we struggled out in tempest and in rain to a session where I didn't play so well. I started myself off on Dargai too fast but managed to keep up the pace. A fellow sessioneer recognised the tune and offered Battle of the Somme as a partner to it, which I hadn't considered. Later I managed Magersfontein and Flett, although Magersfontein kept tripping me up in the faster runs in the B part. Oh, and McIntyre's Farewell and Capt wotsit which probably went wrong somehow, but I've forgotten the nature of its particular failings.

Today, of course, when there is no one to see, everything went well, and I managed Miss Girdle and  Roy Chisholm without dots. John MacMillan, who has been dogging my waking and sleeping inner ear, mysteriously vanished the moment I got the bellows going. But it's infuriating, always playing so much better at home than I do when I am out. The fan says it's always the way, but why? I suspect it's lack of practice with drones, because generally now, even with new people there, it isn't really stage fright.

Gone, but not forgotten

I suddenly remembered that I used to play McIntyre's Farewell. I couldn't recall it at all. I flipped over the pages in the book, took one look at the first two notes...and discovered I could still play the whole tune by heart.

While I had the book to hand I thought I'd see if any of the Cape Breton tunes played on Piob is Fidheall were in there. I thought I found one. The name looked familiar, although as it's Compliments to Roy A Chisholm that's not surprising. Compliments are a reasonably frequent tune title: Fiddlers Bid play Chris Stout's Compliments to the Bon Accord Ale House, and the name of Chisholm is also familiar (tickets booked to see him this spring!)

When I pulled the CD out I found I was wrong and it isn't on the album, nor are compliments to anyone else. But it's a very good tune indeed, and I'm already getting a decent speed up with it.

Less speed at the weekend when we went to a new (to us) session to support it during the session leader's absence due to illness. Nice venue - not much like a pub at all.  The main downside is the rumble of trains overhead at irregular intervals. Nice friendly crowd, although we didn't really gel musically and people did their own thing here and there. We sat in a semi circle, facing out into the pub, concert style. I had very few nerves, and most of my fluffs were down to random memory loss and cold hands. Only once did I feel panicky and then only very briefly. Maybe the stage fright is going.

Slow, slow

It's a slow old time of year, Twixtmas, but we're enjoying being lazy, the fan and I, pottering about, doing a bit of this and a bit of that and not very much of anything at all.

We did manage to get to a session. I played four times. I got half way through the first tune (Dargai) when I realised that I had forgotten about stage fright, and didn't actually have any. That didn't stop me from making a pig's ear of Loch Bee, just like last time. I lost the plot during the King, but managed Margersfontein and Flett together, and then Bonnie Galloway, because I couldn't remember how to start the Rowan Tree.

The session leader made a mock presentation to me as "most improved player." I should feel pleased about this, but I've never been one to take compliments well, and feel both that I ought to be most improved, since I started from the lowest point, and also that I need to improve a great deal more. Still, knowing there is more of a journey to go doesn't cancel out the miles travelled already...

At the end of the evening a Northumbrian piper asked if I'd like a closer look at his pipes...and I ended up strapping then on and giving them a go. They are teeny, tiny, with bellows that, like Duckface, weigh next to nothing, the chanter is full of strange lumps and angles and bristles with keys. Would I be tempted, asks the fan? But I haven't even learned to play the pipes I have yet...

I've got some new CDs - two Tannahill Weavers, which I wanted for Iain MacInnes' contribution, and Piob is Fidheall, of which more later, probably.

Fudging it

So, yesterday we went to a session - probably the first we'd been to since May. It's a small session, mainly the fan's band and others, mainly Irish.

I've been playing regularly and yesterday I played an hour before we went - although not right before we went because I didn't want to arrive tired. Still getting back into A. Taking a while and it's still bellows control that's the struggle - stretching my hands out is fine. But then I switched to D and ran through some tunes I felt I was likely to want to play, plus the Dragon, Pickle and Cudgel as they are all knocking around inside my head a lot. (I also thought in passing of Balmacara and its partner - name forgotten - which I played and played, but never got into my head, haven't played for a while, and couldn't hum now to save my life).

At the session we were a small group: the band, minus the fiddle player, another fiddle player who joins us from time to time, and a Scottish fiddle player - Scottish in as much as he comes from Scotland, and he also plays Scottish fiddle. I accordingly opened with My Home Town, having been assured by my pipe maker that if you can play it you can play in any session in Scotland. The ways of Dumfries are clearly not those of Angus as he didn't join it: perhaps he just despises it as too well known a tune. I felt nervous, I suppose because I hadn't played in a session for a while, hadn't used drones since who knows when, and because I knew he would listen differently as a Scottish player. My chanter wasn't set straight and that didn't help. But I managed to get through without the nerves causing problems other than over use of the bellows: a minor felony that bothers no one but me.

Later I went mad and played Dargai (which he seemed to know) and Loch Bee, which I made a bit of a mess of and fudged my way through. More nerves, not helped by someone I know from work popping in for a drink. Maybe I played it to badly for him to join in, maybe he didn't know it. Rowan Tree went well, although I am throwing people at the start of the B part where the fan says my timing is out. Later the fan persuaded me to lay King Of Laiose, which I managed to get through in one piece. I meant to end with the Whaling Song, but having said I'd play it if I didn't accidentally go into Troy the fan played a few bars of Troy, which left me unable to call the Song to mind at all, so I plunged into Flett and played that at speed.

The fan said I did well. He didn't notice the nerves or the fudging. The more I play, and the more tunes I know, the more I notice other people fudging. The trick is to keep going. I used to stop when I made a mistake - sometimes making sounds of frustration and irritation with it. As Jonny once said to me when I crashed out of a tune with a growl "that was good - apart from the roaring". I think I'm over the roaring now - I've learnt to fudge.

Small beginnings

Some while ago now I read Kirsty Gunn's beautiful novel The Big Music and I remember being just a tad depressed by the Piping Grading Table that appears in the appendices. There are 6 levels, and by the fourth level you've still only managed to become a novice.

I was reminded of this recently while listening to the Food Programme (the 1 June 2014 episode). The programme was about knives and knife makers. There was an alarming clip of Sheila Dillon apparently closeted in a kitchen with a man with an unhealthy interest in knives who muttered "chop, chop, chop" and "Sever! Sever!" as he whipped the knives about. You could hear them cutting through the air as he wielded them and I worried for Sheila's safety.

But the point of interest was that in Japan where there are apparently some very fine knife makers, a man (apparently they are always men: no women were mentioned) may work with a master craftsman for 10 (yes: ten) years before he is allowed to become a student. After a further 14 years he moves on to become an apprentice. A far cry from the days when a boy was apprenticed at 14 to learn a trade in seven years.

It made me think how far I have come. I can play a tune on my pipes. I can play a reasonably fastish tune. I can play several tunes from memory. I can play a number of tunes one after the other without stopping to wonder what tunes I know or how they go, or having a little lie down to rest aching arms. I can play in front of other people without it being a major ordeal. I can switch between A and D chanter with reasonable ease. None of these things could I do when I collected Morag back in November 2011. In fact, some of those things I still couldn't do when I collected the Monkey just over a year ago.

I still want to use more grace notes, play better grace notes, increase my speed (while maintaining accuracy), learn more tunes and become more comfortable with playing with or for other people. I need to improve my timing. I want to be a better piper.

Angst

I'm feeling rather muddled about piping at the moment. I went to one of the usual sessions yesterday. Not many of us, but I played 4 or 5 times. I was totally relaxed: not a wobble, not a tremor, not a single pounding heart-beat, not the slightest bit of clamminess on my hands.

I didn't necessarily play well. I began with Magersfontein, which was fine. Then I wanted to play Flett, but couldn't bring it to mind at all. I consider Flett to be one of the Old Faithfuls so why I couldn't play was a mystery. I did play, though: I played Dargai. I don't know why. I don't consider it t be ready for session playing. I don't know it well enough. Apparently my fingers felt they did, and not only did they play it they played at a fair old lick, with me calmly hanging on in there, trusting that they could manage it, which they did. It was a popular tune, though, and people joined in.

A little later I played My Home Town. After that I began, twice, on the King, but kept getting stuck. So, without batting an eyelid or feeling any sense of embarrassment, panic or stage fright of any kind, I laughingly went in to Flett. Why Flett appeared then when it wouldn't before I can't say. Again, the tune flew out at speed and people joined in. (The fan says that it's easier to join in with a faster tune. I don't understand this: for the purposes of picking and playing along a new tune by ear I should think speed was the last thing you wanted).

I got to the end, began on Bee, but couldn't hear myself play over the sound of the fan, so I stopped, again, without a tinge of embarrassment, self-recrimination etc.

I've been working with the chanter on Captain Grant, Murray and Dragon. I've listened to them over and over. It's such a good set and I love it. I can hum the tunes, separately or together, to order, I've had them in my head for days. And yet, and yet... Captain Grant has a rather gloomy air to him. Dragon and Murray don't sound well together. Captain Grant really needs his taorluaths. I've had to get the green book out and play slowly over and over, but it doesn't work.

Then the fan says fast and upbeat is what is needed for sessions, and somehow this trio don't fit that bill. Then I start to wonder what if I like to play other tunes, tunes that are not fast and upbeat? Who (or even, for whom) am I learning tunes? Is there a point in learning tunes that I don't play at sessions? Do I play for sessions or for me? I don't know. Should I abandon this trio, or keep plugging away?

What I do know is that two tunes, fast and upbeat, are trotting around my head a lot today: the Rock and a Wee Pickle Tow and The Blue Bonnets...

All shall be well

Out to the usual session today. I played for an hour earlier in the afternoon, which went OK. The A seemed like a lot of work, so I flipped across to the D and found my fingers soft on the chanter, the chanter itself buzzing, grace notes that are so fast and short it takes me a time or two of close observation to see that they are actually there. Having problems with the B part of the Trail after the Farewell, which is odd as when I played the Whaling Song (the B part of which I have been conflating with the B part of the Trail) that was fine and dandy.

The session was small and I felt relaxed. I plunged directly into Flett and Bee, with only a wobble as I thought about how the Bee begins. Promptly lost track of where I was and I think I only played it twice, but fellow sessioneers who hadn't seen me play for a couple of months felt I'd improved.

Later on I played the King. I struggled a bit with a few bars in the middle of the A part, but by the time the second play through came I was fine. Later I confidently told the fan I was going to play Rowan Tree and was half way through the A repeat before I realised I was actually playing Magersfontein, which was good. Next up Home Town where the fan says I am sitting on a rogue note for too long. I need to work out which. Bonnie Galloway for grand finale.

During the first set I wondered if I had bitten off more than I could chew, and my heart was beating away at a serious tempo, but after that  was fine. A tiny bit of sticky fingers, which interferes with gracing as the tiny movements you make for a grace aren't always enough to break the seal between finger and chanter if the skin is damp. But the bellows/bag/drones were good and I felt very relaxed with them, in control, doing minimal pumping, barely pumping at all at times, withholding pumping when I needed to hold a note or move to high A (both of which sounds vile if you apply pressure to the bellows at the same time).

So, not perfect: a few small errors and hesitations, but on the whole not bad, not bad at all.

Busking it

I didn't do too badly today. Perhaps it was the practice before hand. Perhaps it was the session being small (the band, the fiddle player's Americana partner, a friend, plus 2). Maybe it was having my back to the wall or space around me (it can be very cramped some times). I am wary of picking one of these, fetishising it as a must-have, an "I can't play unless..."

Still, not too badly, as I said. I just let my fingers play what tune they would. We started with Bonnie Galloway. I got a little distracted because I could here the band's (Irish) piper playing a whistle and the notes caught my attention. Managed to pull my chanter adrift (still haven't been brave enough to have a go at hemping and I really must). Slightly distracted, too, by not-quite-in-tune drones.

I played Flett and that went well, but I couldn't bring Bee to mind and judged it safer to stop with Flett. Later on I gave Magersfontein its first outing. On one repeat I lost the plot totally and ended up making up notes until I got back to firm ground.

As we began to pack up I played Home Town. As I started my drones sounded ragged, the pipes thin, and I had a moment of wondering what on earth I was doing, then the fiddler pitched in and suddenly I could hear real smallpipes - just like on CD! - and just played happily.

Much more relaxed today, definitely. No mad pumping, no shaking hands or weak knees, no pounding heart. I just sat, played, listened, as I do when I'm playing alone at home. Someone said to the drummer that he looked to be in a trance when he was playing: the drummer calls it Zen. Whether you call it Zen or the zone or even a state of flow I was almost there, today, almost in that space.

Taking stock

A few days off work. I do a bit of this, a bit of that, not much of anything: unwinding, mostly. From time to time the fan mentions that I haven't played for while. I hum music, I have it in my head, I listen to music, I think about playing, but he's right: I don't actually play much. I worry that this means despite everything I am not really a musician, a music-lover, a piper: I'm just someone who happens to play pipes once in a while.

But there are other things I love and don't do all the time. I've only managed one trip to the allotment. I've finished knitting a lovely shawl but have done nothing at all about blocking it. I've just pulled out my needle point project to work on after this. I've literally not touched it since before Christmas. I don't feel these gaps make me any less of a gardener, a knitter or a needlewoman, so why should I play every day to consider myself a piper?

I suppose I am still feeling at a bit of an impasse. It has been a mistake to take on such a large number of new tunes. Many have fallen by the wayside, others I peg away at but don't seem to improve on. Tunes I knew have got muddled with others. I suppose I've learned one or two: Bee is the most successful. Some I've consolidated. Both Magersfontein and the King more reliable than they were.

Demonstrating the Monkey to family at the weekend I thought I'd be clever, pick my tunes ahead of time, hum them, remember them. I was going for the Galloway/Flett/Bee set but struggled to remember how Galloway began, thought I moved on to Flett and realised I was only playing Galloway again, only faster. Couldn't remember how Bee went at all. Stage fright again, I suppose.

I keep meaning not to fling right into tunes, but to play a run up and down first to make sure everything is comfortable. I thought that mentally running through tunes ahead of time would help, but the fan says this is the Wrong Thing to Do. In the end I ended up with the Rowan Tree, which I don't seem to play much at present.

Anyway, I played this afternoon, in D. I played McIntyre's Farewell, Cabot Trail, Home Town, King, Glomach, Balmacara, Braemar, Dargai, Magersfontein. It went OK. If this is a plateau it's a pleasant one. I'd be happy to rest here awhile.

Back in the saddle

I went, I played. It was a good session - around a dozen folk, nice mix of instruments, good tunes: all very Irish, all very fast. I didn't belong. I started with Galloway, fluffed so badly l laughed it off with a "actually, let's not play that tune" and went into Flett. It was OK, I think. I think, because I don't remember, because the stage fright kicked in, hands trembling, so I can't get right thumb or left pinkie properly placed, my hands are tense, all I can hear is my heart pounding fit to bust. I feel as though I must look as though I am on the point of collapse, but the fan says I just look as though I am concentrating hard. I am concentrating on getting through.

The next time I tried the set we'd worked on. Scrambled through Farewell, but I think I only managed twice through the jig before giving up. I held it together, but with much fudging. I know these tunes so well, and yet... The bellows didn't help. I panic that I will run out of air and I pump and pump. I also (and this maybe related to the previous remark) get hotter and hotter.

Final tune was the King during which I flipped my chanter out. Entirely my own fault: I was hanging on to it for grim death. There was a pause. "Carry on!" I commanded of the fiddler, and he did, and somehow I managed to step back into the circle and play on. More fudging, but I got through to the end.

But still, I am back in the saddle. I need to control the stage fright. I need to control my nerves, my hands. I need to be in control, back in the saddle with my hands on the reins.

In disgrace

Oh the shame! We went to the usual session today. We've missed the last two, but it's the same session we've been going to for over a year. It was mostly the same people: a good third of the session was the band, who had played elsewhere earlier in the day. I may have been tempted to play something new - the Bee or Magersfontein perhaps - but I played safe and stuck to tunes I can play in my sleep: My Home Town, Bonnie Galloway and Flett.

Reader, I fluffed all three. Home Town wasn't too dire and I held it together despite playing some utterly random notes in the middle. I had totally lost the bottom G - couldn't feel it with my finger at all - and having sat down and started in a hurry the bag was sitting wrongly under my arm. After a while I tried the second tune and again just fluffed whole bars, but managed to keep it going. Later I switched to D. Much fiddling with drones, but I totally lost it and had to abandon. It's a while since that has happened.

I wish I knew what makes me fluff so badly. I was nervous the moment I started: hands shaking and I got hotter and hotter, and yet, as I said, it was a session I know well with people I know well.

It may have been that I didn't initially get a seat and when I did there was a bit of a clamour for a tune, making me the focus of attention and also making me play before I was in the right frame of mind, perhaps. Once I fluff I get tense and worry about fluffing again.

It might have been that I really don't play enough with drones and am out of practice. I'm hardly out of practice with piping: I've played most days for two months. It may have been the appearance of another, much more competent, piper. Or perhaps the Monkey was distracted by France pipping Scotland to the post on the screen in the corner.

I don't know why it happens, but it's certainly shaming when it does.

More, more, more

I feel in need of new tunes, but am struggling to find any. I need lots, because so often when I think I've found a tune it turns out not to suit me, somehow, and falls by the wayside.

I had a quick squint around Nigel Gatherer's website this evening, but didn't find anything I couldn't live without. Sadly all the Shetland tunes I looked at were for fiddle and not playable on pipes. I've checked Mr MacInnes' various CDs and found dots for Neil Gow's Farewell to Whisky, The Sound of Sleat, MacDonald of the Isles' March to Harlaw and a few others which I may print and try. I also have a birthday forthcoming and am hoping that either the Seaforth Highlanders or some of Donald MacLeod's books might come my way. If those fail to inspire then Braebach have a new album out - and they are coming to our local folk club next month!

The usual session at the weekend. I was too cold. The fan despaired of tuning my pipes - flat, apparently - but the pub was warmer than our flat and once the Monkey and I had warmed up we were fine. I played a few tunes. Someone remarked how relaxed I looked. I think I can relax with the old faithful tunes (it was the Rowan Tree that elicited this particular comment). After the first tune I felt smugly free of stage fright and immediately went into a fit of shivering. I was glad I was sitting down because my lower body shivered so much I think my legs would have given way had I been standing up.

Moving on

Yesterday I did another pre-session warm up. Monkey in A with drones. Not going well. All the usual complaints. The session went sedately round with each taking their turn, and I skipped my first turn. Second time round I played Flett - in D. It was OK. Some nerves: I've played in the venue before, and I knew some of the people. I guess having another piper there makes me more nervous: she's going to spot every last mistake. But I played on through my mistakes, fudged over them, finished in one piece.

A bit later on I tried the Whaling Song. I did it because I was asked to play - Vicki had not long played a corker of a set including Troy's Wedding and I was feeling musically humbled (not to say depressed). It went down well, though, and I reduced my fluff rate, other than spectacularly missing out an entire B part repeat...

I was going to call it quits then, because it was late, but as people started to drift away I thought I'd have one last go with the Rowan Tree, quietly, on my own, with no one noticing. The fan joined in on bouzouki, as he always does, but I also had some percussion, a nyckelharpa, a flute, a fiddle and piano accordion pitching in. And it was great! Everything went well, I could hear the music clearly, I was able to look around at people, I kept my nerve, it sounded good, and I really enjoyed it.

Glitch over, I think. Let's move on.

Close, but no cigar

Yesterday I was persuaded by the fan to accompany him to one of his favourite sessions, at the Nightingale. It's a bit of a way to go for a spot of music, but the music is very good, the natives are friendly and welcoming and the Guinness is decent. An all round very nice pub.

I played Tree, Galloway and Whaling, but was beset again by stage fright, making my hands shake, which means I miss, garble or mangle notes. Still, I managed to keep going to the end each time. I tried thinking about how nice everyone in the pub was, I tried thinking about the tunes, I tried thinking about my breathing, I tried listening intently to my pipes. This is a bad move: stage fright seems to affect my hearing and the drones sounded odd and the chanter reed squeaky, and I know they weren't because the fan would have said. The more I listened the more I heard wobbles caused by shaking hands, which made me feel worse.

I tried looking at the fan and I also tried some staring into the middle distance and closing my eyes in a Kathryn Tickell sort of way. I drank more Guinness. That seemed to help a bit. I'd like to say it got better with each tune, but it doesn't, because knowing I've got stage fright makes me nervous that I'll really make a hash of things.

I was assured that no-one but me spotted that I was a nervous wreck. Considering I can do public speaking without batting an eyelid - I've spoken off the cuff to a conference in the past - it's irritating, to say the least, to get so nervous about playing a few tunes with a few folk. Am hoping I'll grow out of it.

The Kathryn Tickell-ishness must have showed, as I was asked on the way out if I was playing "those Northumbrian small pipes".  Well, they're certainly small pipes...