I was listening to the radio yesterday, well half-listening, as usual there were other things going on in my mind. This is typical of me, to try to be juggling more than one thing at once, mentally as well as physically – for example the other day I realised I was trying to put my shorts on while cleaning my teeth. It’s something I do most days without even thinking about it, hence the odd spot of toothpaste on the floor – bathroom, landing, bedroom, where ever I’m cleaning my gnashers. I’d probably be listening to the radio too and possibly checking my phone. Yesterday ‘Desert Island Discs’ featured an esteemed folk singer I’d never heard of, Shirley Collins. She is a most remarkable person, her life-story is fascinating, inspiring even. She has suffered sadness as well as success, and a particular emotional cruelty caused her to lose her voice for forty years.
She was one of those people who conjured images in the way she described her life, and I must listen to the programme again because I confess, I was only half-listening, even though it was interesting. It’s an annoying habit I’ve got myself into which needs breaking! I’m sure Shirley concentrates on the task in hand and focuses on what she’s doing. I must be more strict with my wandering mind. Shirley was born in 1935, two years after her sister Dolly with whom she sang and performed. ‘She grew up in a family which kept alive a great love of traditional… songs learnt from their grandfather and from their mother’s sister.’ (Wikipedia) On the program she sounded such a warm and interesting person, although she had suffered many heartaches including the death of Dolly in 1995 at the age of sixty-two.
The stories of her life were fascinating, but one tiny snippet really lodged in my mind and I’m sure I’m going to write about it at some point. Shirley was speaking of a time when she was in the USA, out in a very rural area meeting local traditional country singers, many of them ordinary, poor working folk who had incredible talent. If I’ve remembered the scene correctly, she was sitting on the veranda of the house she was visiting, singing and playing, and waiting for a local player to join them. She said that suddenly, from among the trees the man she was waiting for emerged, in his old work clothes and carrying his guitar by its neck.
For some reason that image was so vivid to me that I was almost there, seeing this ordinary but supremely talented man, who worked in a lowly position, stepping out hesitantly from the surrounding trees. In my mind he is wearing an old grey hat with a wide floppy brim, an open faded blue jacket and a grey t-shirt underneath. He has baggy, patched trousers, the hems ragged, and old work boots. He looks wary and unsure, but not afraid, just ready, prepared. I’ve no idea who the real person was, I must listen to the programme again, but I think his name – when I write about him, will possibly be Robert!
Here is an interesting article about the programme
…and here is a link to the programme:
https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m001pf7y
When I have written about my imagined musician, I will let you know!
Lois Elsden 