My usual fears hit me when seeing where we'd parked - I would have to walk. Walking and my feet don't get on much these days. I'd worn my classic lace-up Sketchers and immediately on starting out felt something lumpy beneath the left foot. Damn, I would be hobbling before we ever got to head home... However, by the time I we got to the main area the awkwardness had settled and as our day was going to be well out of kilter fitting in with rehearsals and concert we decided on an early light brunch at 11.30am. Jon had a vegetarian 'full English breakfast' (a peculiar concept dominated by a dish of baked beans in the centre - yuk) and I opted for a wholemeal chicken and mayonnaise salad baguette. This was distinctive also in it's mediocrity and lack of contents - a single slice of tomato, single slice of lettuce, single slice of cucumber along with a white mush that purported to be chicken and mayonnaise. A single slice of tomato! I ask you! I know there is a recession on, but surely for £4.50 you could give a customer at least HALF a tomato... Don't go to the Copper Kettle in Cambridge if you value your salad. Okay, rant over.
Usually I go and sit in the Chapel while Jon rehearses but this time, energised by my new visual capacity and painless feet, I said I'd walk around for the next few hours. What a wonderful time I had! Wandering along at my own pace, in circles much of the time, moderately lost at others (daughter will sympathise here) just LOOKING at things. Looking, and seeing things in focus. Distance details, good. Turn head suddenly, good. Walk into shops with changing light conditions, good. Walk out of shops into a new focal depth, good. Need to read fine print - pop the glasses on, not a problem. Bitterly cold (-4 windchill apparently) but a slow plod and intermittent entry to shops (well what woman could resist) whiled away a very pleasant three hours. I had forgotten how nice it is to walk around. Usually I'm struggling to keep up with Jon. His longer legs mean I have to walk 1.5 times as fast as him to keep up with his policeman's plod (I've timed it). Being a small fat person this inevitably leaves me trailing dismally behind, of late staring at the pavement because every time I looked up at the world I would be scarily seeing double. Today I have two happy advantages - I can take my time and I can see!!
Managed to spend over £100 in Holland & Barrett getting holiday pills (even with the buy-one-get-one-half-price - they won't be going under any time soon...) and to resist buying cameras with 'Pet Setting' having interrogated the hell out of shopkeepers before going outside to check Amazon prices on the iPad... Played with the iPad mini in the Apple store, enquired about shoes with arch supports in several shops (nothing doing), circumnavigated the market several times before buying another handbag (ideal for the holiday I think) and used M&S as a toilet - pardon me, used the toilet in M&S ;-)
Arrived back to Kings Parade and sat outside the Copper Kettle hoping for a coffee, but it seems Easter is too early to expect outside cafe service. Jon's rehearsal complete he was free until the concert. We perambulated a little and came across a running shop with a treadmill in plain view... should I? We went in. "I'm looking for some supportive running shoes for a fat lady over-pronator to walk in..." The young lady was efficient and methodical. First watch me walk and then use the treadmill to monitor my gait. Never used a treadmill before and the experience was nothing short of hilarious. Leaning forward to stop from toppling it's very difficult to 'walk normally' and what the sweet young lady thought might be my 'normal walking pace' would have been more like jogging with my weight, but I was duly videoed walking in a pair of standard running shoes. I joined her for the playback. SHOCK. No over-pronation AT ALL, in fact an amazing straight, steady gait, demonstrating strong ankles despite the excess weight. Personal theory? Sketchers shape-ups - being wearing them almost constantly for about 2 years until discovering Fitflops in the last few months. All that wobbly instability has strengthened my ankles and basically my walking gait is fine. So why all the pain if I don't use support shoes? She watches my feet as I stand barefoot. My arches are dropping when I stand without arch supports. TOO MUCH WEIGHT. There it goes again...
On to Tatties for our traditional post-rehearsal, pre-concert meal. Fish and Chips for Jon, homemade Lasagne and Salad for me. Now we're talking. Thin, light pasta with a rich but not fatty tomato sauce and very light béchamel - tender minced beef and a proper salad with more ingredients than I can recall, lightly chopped in a light vinaigrette. With a nice cold diet coke of course.
We stroll back to the college. The sun is low now, buildings lit warmly with a golden glow belying the bitter wind. We meet fellow singers, Cambridge students, musicians, all gravitating to the lounge area. Time to drink some of the huge flask of luke-warm tea Jon has been carting around in his rucksack all day long. Then it's time to make our way into the chapel itself - I to take up my seat in the audience, Jon to wait in silence with the choir in the freezing pews behind the organ for the third (and choral) piece of the evening. All the hours of rehearsal, the tantrums of the chorus master, the endless journeys back and forth around London to rehearsals, the frustrations with learning difficult music, the tiredness rehearsing after a day at work; this is the result. The choir were good, there was no doubt. The sound was as precise as the voluminous echo of the chapel would permit and as is often the case with complex choral music I would have little idea what they were singing about had I not read it in the programme beforehand.
So that's basically it. It is done, and we hurry home to hungry cats. See you next year, Cambridge.
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