Crying at Brass

Am I the only one but does listening to a brass band bring a tear to your eye? At Christmas I find it particularly hazardous on the mascara. I am doing my shopping, minding my own business when a brass band starts playing 'Away in a Manger' and indeed I am Away with the Tears. Throw in a choir of children from a local primary school and I am completely awash.

I don't know what it is. Perhaps it's the local tradition of brass bands which I find so appealing. They have often grown up around a colliery or a mill or a village. There is a shared connection. I love the fact that there is a mixture of people in the brass band from trendy teenager to old bloke. I appreciate the fact that these people come together to make music and enjoy themselves.

Perhaps it's purely down to the lovely mellow tones that trigger my tear ducts. I'm no music expert but a solitary tune from a brass instrument is very moving. Mind you I cry at the rousing anthems too. There is also a pride that wells up in me. Don't know whether that's a reflection of a tradition and skill done well but I love it.

I also rather like the fact that brass bands are so versatile and pop up anywhere. They can play outdoors in a park band stand or at your school fete, they can play on the hoof, marching and playing beautifully all at the same time, and they can give proper, professional concerts sat down. Now when was the last time you saw a full orchestra do all that.

There is an annual brass band competition near to where we live in Saddleworth and Tameside that celebrates brassy brass bands. It's held on Whit Friday in June. Bands come from all over the country, hop on a coach and visit any number of venues (must be twenty plus). They play a march, marching and perform their show-off-tune all al fresco, hop back on the bus and visit the next location 10 minutes up the road. They are judged at each venue. People come to listen, watch, have a pint, socialise, enjoy. It's a wonderful tradition dating back more than 100 years. What's especially refreshing is that it's open to everyone so the local school can compete against the best bands in the country.

I haven't been to the competition for years. Note to self - take a deck chair one Friday evening next June to a village in Saddleworth, buy a pint, sit back, watch and listen.

The Build: week 8

We had our very own Black Wednesday last week. There was a thunderstorm and the rain came in. Someone flushed the loo when the soil pipe wasn't there! We said goodbye to the shower when the temperature was in the mid 20s. And then the blackest moment of all the washing machine was moved 2m to its right and gave up the ghost half way through a cycle. It was the proverbial final straw - I cried and ranted and swore and hit things. My children scattered, my husband tried to say the right things but I had to have my diva moment......or was it half an hour...or did it turn into 60 minutes.

Anyway let's just say it was good to clear the air and get perspective. It's an extension which we have chosen to undertake and to live in and through so really in the big scheme of things it's life.

My friend and mum-in-law did the pile of washing I had to clear - thank you so much. All the builders were great and realised it was the darkest hour and rallied round. I guess they get used to that initial high from clients when they are excited that work has started to be followed by downheartedness about 7 weeks later when the bathroom goes and the family is in limbo.

There is progress every day. Windows have gone in, the roof is finished, the underpinning completed, the bathroom is nearly ready for its transformation. And oh by the way the washing machine is working again. Apparently someone forgot to open a valve or something! How sweet the hum of a washing machine filling up, swishing, rinsing, spinning and draining is.