Seeking the Small Spaces

I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine about Time.  More specifically, Time for your Self, Time to renew the energy drain that comes from interacting with other people, being at work, studying, taking care of others.  Often in this age it can be difficult to find Time.  Demands on where we are, who we are with, and what we are doing, make for a constant spin of days, weeks, months, even years of motion.  Many of us have forgotten, by choice or by force, what it means to Take Time.  And many more of us are suffering for it.

How does society respond?  We make Taking Time into a money making scheme.  Don't get me wrong, I think the idea of going on a retreat with a like-minded group of people in which we are all seeking ways to simplify our lives is great.  To be honest, I enjoy the experience of that setting.  Even if I don't immediately connect with another person in the group, I connect with my Self and the grand Universe.  Sometimes I get ideas on how I view my world, or go forth with an unexpected gain in my Self.  I feel I come out better for having shared in that experience of paid retreat.

Here we have Time, the most expensive, monetary-free commodity that any of us have to do with what we will, and we are willing to spend hundreds or even thousands of dollars for someone else to take charge of our Time and "give" us Time for our Selves.  Does anyone else see the irony here?

So in lieu of spending timeandmoney to attend a retreat right now, I have embarked on a journey into Small Spaces.  With all that I need to get done in a seemingly limited amount of time, I realized that I was not allowing my Self space to actually Take Time.  I moved to Ireland with plans to take advantage of as many opportunities as presented themselves.  My first month here, I traveled every weekend.  I attended as many sessions as I could find, explored the city, went to classes, joined clubs.  My calendar was so booked I forgot to allow space to process all my experiences.  Running from one activity to the next, planning the next outing before I finished the one I was currently experiencing, taking photos to help remember so the moment I looked back (likely months later) I could recreate the time, I was so disjointed from the moments, the special places, the here and now, that I was experiencing my Self to exhaustion.  It wasn't until I had a night planned to attend my so-far-favorite session and instead fell asleep by 9pm that I realized if I'm actually going to enjoy my Time, I need to be present in the moments and be present after the moments to appreciate the experience.

After several lengthy journal entries on Time, Space, Awareness, and Self, I am seeking out then relaxing into the Small Spaces.  I still have a lot on my plate.  I still have articles and books to read for my courses.  I still have places I want to travel to, sessions I want to play in, stores I want to shop at, and restaurants I want to try.  Within all those experiences, there are Small Spaces tucked into the corners: five minute breaks from reading that essay or chapter, the wait for the bus or train or plane, time before tunes begin, moments between placing an order and receiving the meal.  In these Small Spaces rests the Time for my Self, the Time to process, to figure out what has happened, and to plan what happens next.  I don't need to significantly change my plans or my schedule, I simply need to recognize the Small Spaces, seek them out of the general milieu and allow my Self to take advantage of their presence. 

Because I Don't Skydive

One afternoon while packing my house up to move to Limerick, my mom confronted me with THE question:

Why Irish music, anyway?

   It seems like such a simple, straightforward question.  Four little words, surely a few words to answer and move on, not a topic of length and debate.  To those of us who have found ourselves entrenched within the Irish traditional music scene, it's not a matter why we pursue the tunes to such great lengths.  We just do.  It is what it is and we love it.  Trying to explain it to an outsider with any degree of success is like trying to explain color to someone who sees in black and white.  It is only explainable to a certain degree until one side or the other just has to nod, smile, and say they understand, before continuing on with their lives as normal.  Irish traditional musicians see and hear something incredibly special and enticing within the music, the community, the instruments, the craic; something that is difficult to view from the outside.
     So why Irish music, anyway?
     As an outsider entering the tradition, it is even more difficult, I believe, to explain why we become constant listeners, why we become constant players, why we become obsessed with this foreign music.  Someone who was raised in the scene might have a simpler answer to "Why Irish music, anyway?"  It is what they have heard  since en womb and often played since they were old enough to sit upright by themselves.  It is as much a part of their life as taking the evening meal together is in some families.  As an outsider that question becomes a daunting shadow; family and friends outside the obsession don't always understand your lifestyle.  They question your choices and your mental stability.  They don't accept a simple, straightforward answer, even if there was one to give.
     Why Irish music, anyway?
     I am thankful I was able to meet a (relatively new) friend up in Ennis last weekend and then again in Tulla this weekend.  We are both in the same boat as we were not raised in the Irish music tradition, but have entered it from the outsider's point of view.  We both have traveled extensively to find tunes and build relationships with others that fulfill this longing for the music.  We have both spent hours in a week listening, practicing, playing with others, picking apart techniques and styles of famed players, trying to replicate their sound in order to become more fully ingrained in this tradition.  And we are not alone.  I have friends that have moved halfway around the world to be close to good tunes, friends who have selected cities to live in based on whether or not there was a session close by, friends who listen to little else but the diddling fingers of their favorite Irish traditional musician at the time.  Many of these did not grow up in a family of Irish musicians, but have come to it of their own accord, for one reason or another.
     Anyway. Why Irish music?
     Since our meeting in July, my friend and I have extensive discussions and created many theories regarding a variety of things Irish.  She is traveling now with her husband and her father and mother in-law.  They were kind enough to let me join them for a few days during the Tulla Trad Festival.  Our make-up was as follows: two deeply entrenched Irish musicians, one interested and learning the fiddle, one who appreciates hanging in pubs drinking tasty liquids and friendly conversation, and one who doesn't mind tagging along for a bit to these (seeming to her, I'm certain) ridiculous activities. The balance of our group made for some interesting discussion and debates about music, playing, learning, and living within a traditional music society.  It was not far into the weekend when the question was raised:
     Why this obsession with Irish music, anyway?
     Such a question has so many layers and angles, but during our exchange, we hit on an interesting comparison, I believe brought to light by my friend's father-in-law.

We play Irish music because we do not skydive.

     Yes, I am sure there are Irish traditional musicians out there that do skydive, but let me delve into a bit deeper.   As a regular session-goer, there are several things you can do at any given session.

1) Enjoy the music: sit back, listen, relax, and have a drink (beer, whiskey, and tea are the culturally accepted choices),
2) Bring your instrument and join in when someone else starts a tune you know,
3) Learn tunes on the fly within the safety of large numbers (NOT recommend for small, intimate sessions, when someone is playing a solo or duet, for a chance to "noodle" through a tune, an excuse to accompany or harmonize because you don't know the tune, or if you play an instrument in which there is no dynamic control!),
4) Start a set.

     Of these options, words I've heard often associated with the fourth are:
     Maybe once I've warmed up.
     I'm a bit rusty, maybe next week.
     When I think of a good tune.
     No.

     It can be terrifying as a new player, or someone new to a particular session, to be asked to start a tune.  In the world of an outsider entering the Irish music world, it may be akin to skydiving.  You know you want to do it.  You've seen others do it, and do it to degrees of highest success.  You understand there's an excitement that can come from leading a set on your own.  But you also understand the pure terror those little words, "would you like to start a set?" can bring to your head and fingers.
     Given the stress of this step on the way into traditional music, jumping into the world of starting sets can be a serious problem for many players.  All eyes and ears are on you.  The possibility that you will mess up a transition, switch B parts for another tune, not get the attention of the group when you are ready to change, or completely stop at the most inappropriate time causing a train wreck and a disastrous cacophony of sound, is extremely high.  But once you've been in this world for a little bit, you know that starting sets at sessions pushes you further along your work toward becoming an Irish musician.  Perhaps not the pinnacle of existence in this world, but certainly a leap toward the level of becoming a full participant in a session.  It marks movement from follower to leader, from bystander to contributor.  Starting a set takes an act of courage, knowledge, practice, and a bit of faith.  You can train and prepare in your own time for the moment, but when the instant arrives to jump, you have to trust in yourself and allow the space to fall.  As with many activities, it is the first time that is the most intimidating.  Once you've jumped out of that plane, it gets a bit easier each moment you come up to that open door again.  And upon a safe landing, the satisfaction of your accomplishment makes it worth every moment in trepidation.
     Skydiving has never enticed me to jump.  Irish traditional music entices me to train for the next dive every day.

Finding sólás

Dictionary.com defines solace as comfort in sorrow, misfortune, or trouble; alleviation of distress or discomfort.

Brian O' translates the Irish word solas several ways:

Solas (Sol-as) - light, brightness
Solas an lae (Sol-as un lay) daylight
Solas (Sol-as) - enlightenment
But tonight especially:
Sólás (So-lawss) - comfort, reassurance, consolation

It has been an intense evening, in need of both solas and sólás. Shortly after we arrived at my grandmother's house outside Chicago, the gusts and lightening rose to knock power in and out. Not a steady blackout, but a constant brush with darkness. Teasing, threatening. Despite, we managed games and dinner, and a bit of light hearted (croí solas) talk.

Not all was croí solas. Throughout the evening my grandmother sank further into the darkness (gan solas). Well into the stages of Alzheimer's, conversations became strained as we repeated the same banter: where did we live? how long were we staying to visit? did we know her songs were on the radio, stolen by the lady who came to her house? wasn't it nice she could come visit our beautiful house; it reminds her so much of her own!

That last comment hit me hard each time she came back around. No, Grandma, this is your house. Oh, really? She'd answer, truly surprised. I live in a nice house I guess.


She doesn't have a home any more.


To her, home is 40 years away, in a little house on Nelson Street in Chicago. Not her house on Pitcher Drive from my own childhood memories; hunting for fireflies or playing games late into the night. And certainly not this place, where strange ladies come and steal her songs to put on the radio, and she always has her friend underfoot (who was hired several years ago as a live in aid). As we left, she told us how nice it was to meet us. It was all I could do to not hold back tears.


Arriving at the hotel, my fiddle became my immediate solace. My comfort. My light in the darkness. Sólás.

The Session Dilemma

I have a secret.



I've quit.  Cold turkey.  No more.



Except maybe for social reasons.



Sessions are now a thing of the past.  For now, anyway.



As I'm working on these tunes, cleaning up (and dirtying down) habits, I'm finding I can play at home, alone, for hours.  I feel like I'm making great progress in my technique and confidence.  Although some days, as to be expected, are better than others, I am feeling like I'm improving.

Except for when I go to sessions.  About the last three or so weeks, I've found each session I've attended to be a frustrating and even debilitating time.  Attending sessions I find I cannot focus on the tunes with the detail I've found a deep rooted desire for.  I cannot allow the space in the tune, and especially the time to (gasp!) practice a tune during a session setting.  Given the amount of effort it takes to relearn a music, I feel like I'm simply reinforcing bad habits when I play with groups of others.  So this is it.  I'm done going to sessions.

On that same note, I've also significantly cut back on my listening.  Though Majella encouraged submerging myself deeper, I recently found that when I am listening (too?) much, I implant what I think I hear over my playing, instead of hearing my own playing for what it is.  Perhaps seems counterintuitive.  Nevertheless, has been quite an effective strategy.

Playing has been upped to a minimum requirement of 60 minutes each day.  More often than not, I don't complete what I feel I should do for a day in those meager 60 minutes.  I am working at starting playing earlier in the day so I don't feel I'm impeding on other crucial activities (such as sleep. Which apparently my body has decided it needs more of than it's been getting and tells me this with great gusto).  Day 330 and I make sure I get my minimum, but I haven't sorted a way to make sure I start playing sooner.

Will work on that.

Two steps forward, one leap back

It is always an enlightening process to make advances in an area of practice.  I've been playing long enough to know that set backs are a part of the game, and not to take them too close to heart, but it is still a difficult and often frustrating process to work through.  Recently I've found I'd made great strides in relaxing and releasing into the music.  It had, in a wonderful way, become a meditative experience; no thoughts, pure moment.  A beautiful way to spend an afternoon or evening.

Two lessons in, focusing on refining some bits of my playing, and I feel as if I've taken an enormous leap backwards.  As I play now, I find myself in a constant state of thought, working on bowing, ornaments, emphasis.  The concentration is constant.  And the concentration is definitely being a set back in the meditative and releasing feeling.  It takes great effort to move forward in the details I'm working on while releasing into the music concurrently.  As of yet, this is a rare, rare occurrence.  I know it will come back, given time and practice, but it is difficult to balance the need for growth with the desire for letting go.  Had a glimpse Monday night as I looped the sections of Roscommon Reel played by Randal...over time I found myself sinking into the comfort of the sound, releasing the expectations and enjoying the music, the feel of the vibrations, the meditative quality of the sounds.  It has been a leap back, but I believe several steps forward are on the near horizon.

Guru Peoples

They say one of the biggest advantages a musician has is to set one's heart on a role, a chair, a program, and face the terrible disappointment when it doesn't come to light.  But then a musician is given the opportunity to bounce back, work harder, buckle down in those places most needed, and grow in spite (or because) of the set back.

"Not yet" she said.  She didn't say no.  She didn't say never.  She even said that I have potential.  I just need to buckle down.  And buckle down I will.

Conversations with l'autre this evening helped me over facing the disappointment of "not yet."  Able to share similar feelings of frustration and difficulties at this stage of learning.  Trying to find the joys in the small progress.  Finding the small progress.  Becoming our own best teacher.  It is a daunting task.

But even the best teachers often have a guru.  A guide.  A master or sage.  Perhaps this person is someone they know, perhaps it is a distant entity they look to for inspiration.  Goal: make "not yet" become "yes, we want you for our program!"  Path: Sound more authentically Irish.  Plan: Study THE Irish fiddle player.  He will probably never know, but I'm taking the next bit of time and making Tommy Peoples my fiddle guru.

Playlist: check
Videos: check
Lesson time: check

Ok, so the lesson isn't with Tommy, but with another great fiddle player, Randal Bays.  So I will be studying fiddle on a few different levels.  Tunes with Randal, tunes from Tommy, and intensive practicing and (hopefully!) self discovery.

When the world says, "Give up,"
Hope whispers, "Try it one more time."

When Students Do the Teaching

I often find the most impacting lessons I teach (from the perspective of the teacher) are those in which my students actually do the teaching.  Just a few short hours until my interview for the graduate program at UL and my students gave me the perfect lesson to help me through tonight's audition.

Both of my students attend the same school and their school orchestra was performing a concert this evening.  Last week, their director asked them if they'd like to play something from their private lessons as a solo on the concert.  Both students were very enthusiastic, but both were also a bit apprehensive to get up in front of an audience of that size on their own.  As they shared their worries and concerns, I did my best to give them the support and advice to get through at their best.

Talking to them, I realized that those same words of support and advice were exactly what I needed to tell myself to get through tonight.  I have been feel quite apprehensive, to the point of upsetting myself needlessly, and having to work my way through calming myself down.  Tonight I shared with both of them at their lesson:  technically, they were on par for their tune, but after the hours of practicing and playing, they had lost the spark that made the tune come alive.  Relax and love the tune again, and suddenly the spark reappeared for them both.

It dawned on me that after my hours of practicing the same set of tunes for my audition I'd begun to lose some of the spark that made me love these tunes in the first place.  Tonight when I came home, I picked up my fiddle to run through the tunes once before resting.  Although I kept some of the technique in the back of my head (back beat, back beat, back beat), my main anchor lied in thinking of my students, and especially my own love of the music.  And the spark reappeared.

Start Subtracting

This last week in particular I have found myself fighting some high stress levels.  Yesterday felt particularly high.  After the AOSA Share Session I came home in a stress ball about the weather, about the lesson I was supposed to teach, about my tunes for my UL audition, feeling upset with my body, angry with my mother about my life choices, feeling generally cluttered, and genuinely overwhelmed. I was in such a panic about destressing I was struggling letting things go, even those things that I knew weren't a big deal.  My destress of late, playing tunes, only seemed to make things worse.  Which only added to my stress.

What to do?

When things aren't adding up in your life, start subtracting.

Put on some orange-cinnamon-clove-peppercorn on the stovetop before my student came.  Simple.  And I know when the house smells good, I am more likely to take deep breaths.  Nothing like toying with the ANS.  Put on some chicken noodle soup for a quick lunch.  And sat down to get the tune I was supposed to teach under my fingers enough to make my way through it, tho I knew it wouldn't be pretty.

After my student left, I still felt cluttered. Commence Disney movies and paper purge: I spent almost 5 hours going through papers from AOSA and recycled an entire file tote full, plus more I will scan then recycle (by permission of other board members and long time members).  When I took over the presidency of the Chapter, the tote that came with the job was stuffed so full I could not get papers out without removing half the box.  I bought another tote, and a small divider binder for my most important documents.  I am now down to less than one tote full.  I even had enough room to squeeze in the raffle ticket roll (still mostly full), the bag of name tags, a bag of 30 some pens, and the AOSA brochures.  And now have an extra tote and divider binder to help me organize some other bits I've been meaning tackle.  Soon my term as the president will be over, and I'll be able to hand over the tote (and the Easter basket) with a sense of relief and release.

Today when I woke I was still feeling a sense of distress.  Took some time lounging in bed, a nice egg and toast breakfast, and then wrote a letter to one currently heightening my stress levels.  I don't know if I'll send the letter, and there are some things I'd still like to add, but it is good to write these things down.  Let's me release them from my head.  If I know the paper will remember, I don't have to think about it so hard.  Also helped me get some thoughts straight about who I am and what exactly I'm doing.  Changes in my perception of my Self and my Future.  Then I did some yoga.  Oh, I forget how much I miss yoga, and how good it makes me feel.

I have been contemplating undertaking another detox week.  I did one about a year and half ago.  The first few days I felt awful, but in the long run, it really helped my body rebalance.  Trouble is finding a time when I know I can let go of things.  With the UL interview and audition this week, Valentine's Day candy coming from students, and a weekend getaway with a couple girlfriends over President's Day weekend, I have been putting it off.  And rightly so.  It does no good to start a detox and then stress the body by having a million offers (good or bad) you then have to refuse.  As I consider the detox however, I do think I am over due for one.  A good long one, perhaps.  That will include adding in more yoga, meditating, setting a specific diet for a bit, and releasing.  Subtracting.  I have let my life run away a bit, and it's time to take some steps to bring it back into balance.

What does all of this have to do with fiddle and tunes?  Well...when I'm stressed I have been turning to tunes for a down.  A meditation and escape if you will.  Unfortunately, I am so worried about my audition that I am finding it's not being that for me right now.  As soon as I'm past the audition, I think I'll be back on my prior track.  I'm looking forward to that.  I'm also looking forward to remembering that I do have ways to subtract, to mediate, to escape, that doesn't involve having my fiddle in my hands.  I will need to remember this in the coming year with my Master's program.  And I am learning to be gentle with my Self regarding my demands on my playing.  I am progressing, and I am continuing my goal to play every day (at least 30 minutes now, which isn't hard even focusing on my audition tunes), but to allow for flexibility and patience as I work on the music.  And it will be interesting to see how the tunes incorporate with the detox.  Last time, I did not play during the detox.  This time, I hope to interweave the tunes I play with the Self purging.

Creative Process Countdown

Day 282

This morning (last night, really) I had a chat with Majella, one of the Course Directors for the UL Trad Performance Masters. It was lovely hearing the true Irish lilt again, and of course, to get the full run down on the Programme. A recent addition to the Course is an assessment of your own creative process. This includes a peer review as well as a journal to be kept for a minimum of two to three weeks.  I don't know of a better motivation to become more active writing here. Between l'autre's encouragement and knowing I will need to keep a journal of these trials and tribulations in the future, I plan to add 5-10 minutes of writing per day of playing. Not sure if I'm ready to make myself wait to black out days of playing until I've done my writing reflection, but perhaps that is what will bring motivation to completion. Wish me luck.

Majella was kind enough to listen to my playing a bit and give a small bit of feedback, mainly, to work the focus to the backbeat, versus the downbeat. Playing tunes over the phone is not an easy listening task, however, so she asked me to make a recording and email it to her so she could give it a more proper listen. After a tasty breakfast of eggs and toast, I did a trial recording. Specifically did not try and change anything about how I've been playing the tunes. What an eye opener! I cannot believe how much listening to myself play without being in the act of playing allowed me to surrender to the sounds. And yes, I am quite heavy on the downbeats.  Something I will dive into adjusting. Today.

Foreseeing high intake of tea levels in 3...2...1....

Catalysts

Driving home from sessions gives me wonderful opportunity to listen to some new and old tunes.  It also gives me way too much time to sit and Think. Tonight's Thoughts were about how I ended up where I am today. A year ago, I was a completely different player.  I refused to play even in front of those who wouldn't know the difference between a jig and a reel.  Sure, I played with people, but starting tunes even with those musicians I trusted was a nerve wracking task, and one I usually avoided until prodding from another musician.

When did I begin to see the change? Along the last six to eight months, there've been several experiences that changed the course of my playing.  One frustrating weekend in Minnesota and a much needed heart to heart with l'autre. A couple of passing comments from musicians I play with regularly.  Conversations with new friends on the entity that is this music and lifestyle. I've tried to mark the changes if I catch them, but there are many that have been so minute as to be a part of the process, undefined from the rest of the minute moments.

Tonight was a small but memorable catalyst toward my own confidence in my playing.  I have a recording of N playing two Paddy Fahy reels.  Fiddle and guitar.  The second reel has a rolling B section that at one point inspires a lengthy and enthusiastic hup from a listening musician.  There is an energy and excitement in the playing that pulls out the excitement in another.  Being off of one of my favourite session recordings, on more than one occasion I had hoped to bring that wee bit of excitement with my own tune.  This evening found me playing through my audition sets, and during my final reel - Heights of Muingbhatha - during the B section I pulled a hup from two of my fellow musicians. Detail, but remembering that moment I hope it lends toward my confidence in my tunes and my fiddle.  If nothing else, I hope the memory of the smile it brought will give some confidence in my pre-interview for UL tonight.

I've Become a Book Whore

Spent Friday night with one of my long-time friends.  She and I are both pretty big bookies, and had a conversation about how sometimes we go through these phases of starting book after book and never finishing them (at least, not in a normal time frame).  Between us, we listed some dozen books we'd started within the last year and not yet finished.  My list includes:

Don't Shoot the Dog
Be Different
A Year in the World
The Eyre Affair
Tales for an Unknown City
Ireland
The Hobbit
Free Play

Her list was similar in length and variety.  Now, I've always been one to have several books in the works at once.  After all, I can never be sure what I'll be in the mood for reading - history, fantasy, biographical-esque, non fiction, travel...the list could go on a while.  But it is unusual for me to start books and not get back to them after a few chapters.

Enter Saturday.  A different friend called at the last minute and asked if we might get together.  Also an avid reader, we found ourselves talking books.  I shared with her this discontenting realization that I am currently a book whore - - reading a lot, but not committing even to old favorites.  She asked how long this had been happening.  A month? No, longer.  Since school started? No, longer.  Since your summer? No, longer. Since last summer? Hum, closer it feels, but longer yet.  Finally came down to being a book whore since spring of 2011.  Daunting.

Why?  Some self reflection brought to my attention that it coincides with my attempt to fit into society's mold of the twenty-something.  Find a good job. Check.  Get engaged. Check. Get married and settle down forever and have a family and commit to all those who are not one with you.  Ummm...wait, what?

No longer engaged, still in good job, but something still hasn't quite clicked back in.  However, having found a place for my next two years that I can truly feel excited about, I find I am being drawn back into my books.  Though like any junkie recovering it will probably take time to find my focus and my commitment, and I'm sure of various setbacks, I am healing and growing stronger, more joyous about what the future holds for me, and excited to continue down the unexpected path.

In the meantime, did I mention I am on day 281 of playing my fiddle?  Last night I hit my third goal of 280 days.  New goal of 379 days.  Just a year didn't seem adequate.

A Cuppa and Contemplations

There is something gratifying and grounding in sitting down with a cuppa Barry's tea, a playlist of fantastic new tunes, and the gumption to write a bit.

I have been so lucky as to spend time with some lovely and supportive friends these last couple of days.  And lucky to be at a time when I needed reassurance on my decision to take a leave of absence from my current job to study traditional Irish music again at the source: this time the University of Limerick.  A decision that has been long forthcoming.  After my first year back "home" I realized how much I missed the Irish life and how much I wished to return for more than a visit or extended stay.

They say that life is what happens when you're busy making other plans, and that's exactly what had happened.  Plans to apply for UL four years ago were detoured quickly by a job, a boyfriend, and an appointed leadership in the state AOSA Chapter.  Now, after four more years of saving, four more years of playing, four more years of sessioning, four more years of teaching experience, it's time.  I'm done making plans; I'm ready to start living them.

Tomorrow night (which I can't believe has come so quickly!) I have a conversation set up with Majella, one of the Course Directors for the Masters of Traditional Music Performance degree.  She will be calling about 8 am Irish time Tuesday morning.  Although not an official interview, it is a get-to-know-you for us both.  I have questions about the programme, I'm sure she will have a few questions for me, and I will play a bit for her in hopes for some feedback on if I'm ready for the level of the degree.  Having talked to and played with a good number of players who experienced the programme, I feel I'm pretty on par.  It will be good to have some critical evaluations of my playing from someone actually in charge of the programme.  Wish me skill!