Glad Things #20

A sold-out, roof-raising concert of dreams, Christmas is coming and feasting on life.

20 weeks of Glad Things feels like quite an acheivement. I’m diving straight in this week because:

1.

There is nothing like being part of a choir. A truth widely acknowledged, but only 110 people in the world know the sheer joy of being part of Lichfield Gospel Choir.

Photography by Phil Barnes (who I now realise has edited out my feet in all the photos, because he disapproves of my red shoes. These are not my legs.)

We’d been planning this huge concert with the incredible South African group, Imbube Singers, for over a year and it was, I think, everything we dreamed it could be. There’s a lovely review of the concert here, so I feel justified in bandying about phrases like, “musically captivating, and performed with extraordinary energy and conviction.” I’m an evangelical member of the choir and our committee (being atheist in all other respects), and making this a sell-out success has been a slight obsession over the last few months.

It is such a privilege to part of something so wonderful. We have the most brilliant, the loveliest, musical directors in Themba Mvula and Gabriella Liandu, we learn everything aurally, strictly no words or music, but most of all, in the 11-and-a-half years since I joined, my life has changed shape so entirely — it’s hard to describe. It’s like a fairy godmother came and instead of the coach and impractical glass slippers, I got music and friendship and community and even the ability to sing solo in front of other people. Very much a shocker to many parts of myself.

2.

I have, drumroll (now I’ve stopped frantically trying to fill every seat in Lichfield Cathedral), finally finished putting my new Christmas products in my online shop(s)! You can find them here.

Photography by Holly Booth

It’s honestly such a relief to have them all (almost!) online. I’ve designed quite a few new mini cards, which I’m really pleased with, and am alarmingly well stocked with festive wrapping paper. If you’d like a signed book, the First Big Book of Why and the First Big Book of How make excellent Christmas presents for those eight and under! (In fact, How kept my entire extended family entertained for a couple of hours last year, it makes a good quiz!) I would be delighted to gift wrap one for you - I offer a gift wrap and delivery-direct-to-recipient service here.

As always, my cards and wrapping paper are printed on 100% recycled paper, and everything is made in the UK. It matters so much to me, that my products have the tiniest impact on the planet possible. If you’d like to support my mini business, Percy and I would love to take your order to the Post Office this Christmas. He’s getting better at queueing (as long as I have a pocket full of grated cheese), or waiting at the Post Box while I scan everything in (revolutionary!).

3.

I woke up thinking about this poem. Actually not true, I woke up thinking I had written the best ever children’s board book story in my sleep (my conscious mind soon told me otherwise), and then I wrote my morning pages (I’m trying to do that again) and then I thought about this poem by Derek Walcott. Sometimes I find it so comforting, and sometimes so out of reach — today is a comfort day, so here it is.

And then my friend Sarah sent me a photo from a day we spent together, a year ago today. It was such a good, important day, friendship-wise (and a pleasingly cheery-silly photo). I’m keeping the photo for myself, but Sarah once sent me this poem by Jason Shinder, which encompasses everything I love about friendship, especially hers.

It is a two poem sort of day.

I always begin writing these feeling slightly overwhelmed. Either the Thing has been so Glad, I can’t work out how to approach it, or I feel like the difficult parts of the week have been too significant to easily side-step and I’m being disingenuous. More often than not, it’s both things at once. Sometimes it’s even Gladness I’m wary of sharing. But quite often, once I get started I could rattle on for ages.

Sit. Feast on your life.

Kate x