It has been almost a month since my last post, and what a month it has been! So much has been happening in my life, and although as always it has been busy, I have had so much fun. Valentines Day has come and gone (this year I had a lovely candlelit dinner with Corrie - I bought her roses and everything – wouldn’t I be the perfect boyfriend?!), and most recently, so has the Eisteddfod.
I love the Eisteddfod. I know most people hate it, and sit there the whole time counting how many light bulbs there are in the Grand Pavillion ceiling, but being involved in it is always so much fun, as well as proudly watching my friends sing their little hearts out! Last year it was taken much more seriously by Morgannwg, as we were determined not to come last for once, but after winning last year, we became a bit more complacent this year.
Okay, a lot more complacent. For those of you who had the decency to look up from your avid light bulb counting, you may have noticed an “emotive and powerful dance, which told the tale of Cathy surrounded by souls on the Yorkshire Moors” (Okay, slight exaggeration to Miss Maddy’s adjudication, but that was her gist.) Yeah, that was us.
I know you were all deeply moved by our powerful and meaningful portrayal of Cathy’s love for Heathcliff that looked like we took weeks choreographing the dance, but in fact it was concocted on the Wednesday night before the Eisteddfod. Joe started playing ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Kate Bush, I started leaping around to the music jokingly, and, soon enough, our dance had emerged. The cloaks were just the icing on the cake.
I think the reason that I enjoyed the Eisteddfod so much this year is that we didn’t take it seriously. With that kind of competition, if you take it too seriously, it isn’t enjoyable for either you or the light bulb counters (oh, and by the way, if you were wondering how many light bulbs there are, I have been informed that there are 280.) I genuinely enjoyed leaping around on stage in cloaks, and by the sound of it Tash, Cath and the rest of the hecklers in her row at the front enjoyed watching it, much to the chagrin of Mrs Evans, who kept pursing her lips in their direction.)
However, there was a part that I didn’t enjoy. Most of you know by now that I am not particularly stable when both my feet are on the ground, so imagine my horror when I was told that since the girl that was meant to be doing the lift didn’t have her costume, I would have to do it. I freaked out. We practiced it quickly once, before we went on stage, but then it was the real thing. When the time came, I tentatively placed my feet on the boys’ hands, and was raised up into the air.
I was absolutely terrified. Now, I haven’t got a phobia of heights, but I don’t like them, and even being raised a little bit off the ground freaks me out, so once I was up there I went with my instincts. I knew I wanted to get back down, so I practically jumped off the boys’ hands, much to their surprise, which is why I think they kind of dropped me. I say kind of because I don’t want to blame my clumsiness on them, but I do want to clear the record and say that I didn’t fall. Honest. It was more of a jump that ended with me crouching on the floor. Silly gravity.
I think the most random and bizarre thing that came out of the Eisteddfod was brother told me (it’s nice to have siblings in high places) that I had come second place in the English Bard competition. The reason I found this so hysterical was that I had written half a poem about ‘Goldie’, which was a twist on goldilocks in a chavvy welsh dialect, as our theme was Welsh Gold (thanks Miss Raine for the idea!) and so for me to have come second makes me wonder what the other poems that were entered were like...
On a parting note, I am about to embark on the D of E training weekend (why I signed up for D of E is beyond me), so wish me luck, I’m going to need it!
And finally, what you have been waiting for - the dance.