Tongue-Tied

Le Coeur du Choeur

This next few days is my choir weekend. This is another attempt to improve my French by jumping in with both feet. Though principal motivation was an opportunity for French conversation, I find I've been taken over by the music and the company.

I hadn't sung for thirty years till I joined a short singing course just before Christmas - two weeks singing, three hours a day, breathing exercises, technique etc, followed by a week of concerts throughout the region. All squeezed around a tight schedule preparing for our permanent move over to France. I enjoyed it so much that I was easily persuaded by one of the French singers to apply to join the Choeur Departemental. As usual with choirs everywhere, the choir was short of men. The CD's need and my ability to pick up and carry  a tune (without dropping it) got me accepted.

I had my first weekend last month. Rehearsals take place over six weekends. A series of concerts will take place all over the Languedoc in May. Of the fifty singers about a fifth are Brits but as the rehearsals are in French from start to finish, English is barely heard. The conductor is a long-time English resident in France whose French is impeccable with only the occassional glimpse of a non-French accent.

So, all in all, my French improves by leaps and bounds. As does my Estonian and Latin thanks to the wonderful and rare music that we're singing. There is a Baltic theme to the programme - Polish, Estonian, Lithuanian. All of the music is new to me, so there's much to do.

The rehearsal time is strictly governed by Le Chef, so no chatter just enjoyable but hard work. The breaks are another matter. The brightest memory of my first month here as a permanent resident is of the Sunday lunchtime at the last rehearsal. I recall sitting in the courtyard of the Mairie, out of the slight breeze, basking in the January sunshine, sharing a glorious picnic lunch with four new French friends, warmed on the outside by the sun and company, and on the inside by a rich, gutsy Corbières. And speaking with an ease born of a glass of good wine. That's a memory that I return to often, on the days when the sun doesn't shine and when my tongue becomes leaden in my mouth.

C'est pour tout ça que je suis ici.