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I left choir last night and there was a bit of a fog in the air…you can feel the temperature has changed over the last week. If you wear glasses they suddenly start steaming up when you get indoors, because of the rapid temperature change ( that is, if it is warm inside)

I quite often leave the Bishopsgate Institute, Spitalfields, opposite Liverpool Street Station on a Monday night and still am in awe of the buildings in the city, several which have been erected since I started the choir 6 or 7 years ago.

The Institute itself is a listed building, that you can walk right by and miss it, as it is  tucked away in between a  Pizza Express and another shop, but it goes back from the street a long long way. It has a public library and a lovely cafe, a Great Hall and an Upper Hall where they have public concerts and big  choral groups rehearse, lots of other spaces, evening classes and all sorts.

The mix of old and new buildings in the city is wonderful. We rehearsed in St. Botolphs, Bishopsgate a couple of years ago, and I have an ancestor who was married there in the 18th century. Here are a few photos I took as I walked from Liverpool Street to Moorgate Underground. When it is a bit foggy you cannot see the top of the tall buildings. The gherkin is cloaked as are the taller buildings too. Wow, well it still works for me, so I am not ready to leave London yet……

SONG OF THE DAY – What Have I Done to Deserve This -Pet Shop Boys, Dusty Springfield

Rumour has it Pet Shop Boy Neil  might live in Spitalfields, so I thought I would post this, to pay my respect to a  local boy, plus to continue to show constant love for the wonderful wonderful Dusty. May you be singing with the angels.

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 I am harping back to an old post of mine, because it was all about ROUND and has several groovy ROUND images. I took pictures of a few round things I encountered in one day of  in London, and thought about the song WINDMILLS OF YOUR MIND which interestingly in French is called les moulins de mon coeur which even with my pigeon french means THE WINDMILLS OF MY HEART… I wonder if only the title was written in French or if it was first written with French lyrics…I have not had time to do enough research.It is a wonderful song and harks back to my love of  many things French.

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SONG OF THE DAY

First word is…ROUND ha ha ha.  The opening two melodic sentences were adopted from Mozart’s second movement from his Sinfonia Concertante for Viola, Violin and Orchestra, so I should be gushing about my love of all things Austrian.. and today following the fine example of some of my fine fellow blogger djbaroque I am listing the words- as they are great.Does anyone knows if it the lyrics were written in French first? I would love to know.

today is compare and contrast the original versus the lovely Dusty

Round, like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel,
Never ending or beginning on an ever-spinning reel,
Like a snowball down a mountain or a carnival balloon,
Like a carousel that’s turning, running rings around the moon,
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face,
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space,
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind,
Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own,
Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone,
Like a door that keeps revolving in a half-forgotten dream,
Or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream,
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face,
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind, Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your head,
Why did summer go so quickly? Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore and leave their footprints in the sand,
Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway or the fragment of a song,
Half-remembered names and faces but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over you were suddenly aware,
That the autumn leaves were turning to the colour of her hair,
A circle in a spiral, a wheel within a wheel,
Never ending or beginning, on an ever-spinning reel,
As the images unwind, like the circles that you find,
In the windmills of your mind

by on

Today it is all about circles. I just took pictures of a few circles I encountered in one day of my being in London, and thought about the song WINDMILLS OF YOUR MIND which interestingly in French is called les moulins de mon coeur which even with my pigeon french means THE WINDMILLS OF MY HEART… I wonder if only the title was written in French or if it was first written with French lyrics…I have not had time to do enough research.It is a wonderful song and harks back to my love of  many things French.

SONG OF THE DAY

So here it is. I only found out today that the opening two melodic sentences were adopted from Mozart’s second movement from his Sinfonia Concertante for Violon Violan and Orchestra , so I should be gushing about my love of all things Austrian.. and today following the fine example of some of my fine fellow blogger djbaroque I am listing the words- as they are great.Does anyone knows if it the lyrics were written in French first? I would love to know.

today is compare and contrast the original versus the lovely Dusty

Round, like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel,
Never ending or beginning on an ever-spinning reel,
Like a snowball down a mountain or a carnival balloon,
Like a carousel that’s turning, running rings around the moon,
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face,
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space,
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind,
Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own,
Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone,
Like a door that keeps revolving in a half-forgotten dream,
Or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream,
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face,
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind, 

Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your head,
Why did summer go so quickly? Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore and leave their footprints in the sand,
Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway or the fragment of a song,
Half-remembered names and faces but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over you were suddenly aware,
That the autumn leaves were turning to the colour of her hair,

 

A circle in a spiral, a wheel within a wheel,
Never ending or beginning, on an ever-spinning reel,
As the images unwind, like the circles that you find,
In the windmills of your mind