Geese fatten, while vixens vex
Christmas is coming. I know Christmas is coming because Starbucks told me so. When Starbucks goes all red and gingerbread, the Santa season is upon us. Not much is as incongruous as Adeste Fidelis in the Starbucks at Birmingham New Street station, but there it was.
According to wikipedia, source of all information, the literal translation of 'adeste fidelis, laeti triumphantes' is 'be present, faithful, joyful, triumphant' (presumably in that order), which is quite an instruction. I strongly suspect that there will be a blog later this month fulminating at the 'updated' lyrics of carols; the only amendation that has to my knowledge ever improved a carol was the change from 'hark, how all the welkin rings!'
Sacred music is on my mind right now, although it's more scared music when it's on my mind. Today I had one of those singing lessons in which you can, perhaps fortunately, feel rather than hear your voice sounding like a sack of gravel being dragged over a chain-link fence. I don't know how I'm going to cope with Messiah; I need only sing one chorus and my voice has gone. And trying to sight-read is like trying to follow a runaway retriever through a wood. And what's most annoying is that whenever I hold the book up to try and follow the conductor, the top edge of my glasses lies in exactly the wrong place and I have to hold my head at a funny angle or risk sliding off into the tenor part.
All of which may explain why I murdered 'September Song' this morning. This isn't going to stop me from prowling the House singing 'Silver Bells' for the next month, of course, despite the fact that there's nothing at all to be done with the line 'ring-a-ling, hear them sing.'
It's also Christmas in the House. The decorations are up, the tree is up and some very fetching superimpositions of the House tutors' faces on Christmas figures are up. I am a reindeer. The obvious question is, which reindeer?
Prancer is obviously out, not only because of a slight rhoticism (which also, incidentally, makes singing 'Prince of Peace' a four-syllable exercise) but because it's too gay.
Donner is a girl's name. Or a kebab, which is worse, and something else I've never done.
Dasher is just ironic.
Dancer is just inaccurate.
Cupid might give the wrong impression.
Which leaves Comet, Blitzen and Vixen. I was idly musing on this with a couple of the Lower Sixth when one of them informed me that 'vixen' was a German verb. As he's German, I believed him; and, according to K, it means 'to polish' (as in shoes) and, by extension, to masturbate.
It says a lot about my life that I immediately began wondering how it was conjugated. Ich vixe, du vixest, es vix, wir vixen..?
If anyone can confirm or deny, please do so. It's keeping me awake.
According to wikipedia, source of all information, the literal translation of 'adeste fidelis, laeti triumphantes' is 'be present, faithful, joyful, triumphant' (presumably in that order), which is quite an instruction. I strongly suspect that there will be a blog later this month fulminating at the 'updated' lyrics of carols; the only amendation that has to my knowledge ever improved a carol was the change from 'hark, how all the welkin rings!'
Sacred music is on my mind right now, although it's more scared music when it's on my mind. Today I had one of those singing lessons in which you can, perhaps fortunately, feel rather than hear your voice sounding like a sack of gravel being dragged over a chain-link fence. I don't know how I'm going to cope with Messiah; I need only sing one chorus and my voice has gone. And trying to sight-read is like trying to follow a runaway retriever through a wood. And what's most annoying is that whenever I hold the book up to try and follow the conductor, the top edge of my glasses lies in exactly the wrong place and I have to hold my head at a funny angle or risk sliding off into the tenor part.
All of which may explain why I murdered 'September Song' this morning. This isn't going to stop me from prowling the House singing 'Silver Bells' for the next month, of course, despite the fact that there's nothing at all to be done with the line 'ring-a-ling, hear them sing.'
It's also Christmas in the House. The decorations are up, the tree is up and some very fetching superimpositions of the House tutors' faces on Christmas figures are up. I am a reindeer. The obvious question is, which reindeer?
Prancer is obviously out, not only because of a slight rhoticism (which also, incidentally, makes singing 'Prince of Peace' a four-syllable exercise) but because it's too gay.
Donner is a girl's name. Or a kebab, which is worse, and something else I've never done.
Dasher is just ironic.
Dancer is just inaccurate.
Cupid might give the wrong impression.
Which leaves Comet, Blitzen and Vixen. I was idly musing on this with a couple of the Lower Sixth when one of them informed me that 'vixen' was a German verb. As he's German, I believed him; and, according to K, it means 'to polish' (as in shoes) and, by extension, to masturbate.
It says a lot about my life that I immediately began wondering how it was conjugated. Ich vixe, du vixest, es vix, wir vixen..?
If anyone can confirm or deny, please do so. It's keeping me awake.
posted by BoB at 10:28 AM
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