The Trees are Singing My Music

‘The Trees are Singing My Music’

As I write this I am taking refuge from the Christmas hype and enjoying an Elgar moment. Listening to Elgar’s ‘Top 25’ – a CD insert from ‘The Friendly Guide to Elgar’ surrounded by my Edward Elgar mouse mat and my Edward Elgar coaster complete with matching Edward Elgar china mug, I am fondly reminded of a seminal afternoon early November, when travelling North on our return from Devon, we came upon a sign and followed it until we came that place of pilgrimage known as The Elgar Birthplace and Visitor Centre near Worcester. For me it was the fulfilment of a lifetime’s ambition. For Teen 2, despite opting for GCSE music, it was something to be endured. During the AV introduction, she was rounded on severely when the bass line of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers leaked out from her earphones defiling the spine tingling kettle drum rolls of Nimrod and The Enigma Variations.

In the Visitor Centre, I leisurely poured over every word and every artefact in every display cabinet – much to Teen 2’s annoyance. But I had waited a long time for this moment and it wasn’t going to be rushed. Tempers started to fray but I held out as Teen 2 continually baited me over how long I was taking over this ‘boring stuff’. Wonderhubby to the rescue as he tactfully completed a whistle-stop tour and adjourned to the pub next door to placate our teenager with pop and crisps and for himself to partake in a little refreshment of course.

I made my way out of the visitor centre and through a delightful cottage garden to the modest red brick dwelling that was his birthplace. It was time for sensory overload as I soaked in the room where he was born and the desk where he sat and the manuscripts he wrote. I began to get a sense of the man, not just as musical genius but as a real human being. I also started to realise certain parallels to a writer and, in a humble way, to my own life. Of course I do not dare to suggest that I am in the same creative league, but it was reassuring to find that the Great Man’s talent was not recognised until into his 40s and not before many struggles and disappointments and having to do things in life that he really didn’t want to do. (I wonder if that included cash flow forecasts?)

Even Elgar said that he had to be ‘bullied’ into work and after needing 3 apples, a Twix and half a dozen games of Spider Solitaire before settling down to this blog post I can quite relate to that. As for his ‘inventing’ of music, Elgar claimed that it came from ‘anywhere and everywhere’ – walking, golfing, cycling or in the evening - then he sat up until any hour to get it down. It was during his study in the morning that he worked on the revising and orchestration but his inspiration did not come from within the confine of four walls. However, that's not that an excuse for me to vacate the laptop especially when it’s taken so long to settle here. Listening to such pieces as ‘Chanson de Matin’ I imagine that I can hear the rolling Malvern Hills and the English country lanes as Elgar heard them trundling along on his penny farthing donned in tweed plus fours and bowler hat. Hear it as it was in that bygone, rose-tinted, innocent age - pre-boy racer and pre-performance exhausts.