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In her honour, we played our first ever gig as The Ruths

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Have you ever been in a band? It’s a complex juggle of personalities, skill, nerves, and creativity.

Hello Folks, thanks for dropping by. I’ve been ridiculously busy lately, but in the best way for me: various art projects, which of course also includes grant applications/rehearsals/long-distance driving to gigs/exhaustion/recalibrating.

I’ve written before HERE about my ‘Band Me Up’ project, inspiring local women who always wanted to play music to actually give it a go; finally, our weekly rehearsals culminated in our first performance at a local pub’s [very low-key] Sunday afternoon Open Mic.

It was a process to get there, let me tell you! Seven women, at seven different stages of musical prowess, including our funky bass player who only picked up her guitar three months earlier. She started out on tamborine, tried backing vocals and the drums (but I was very hard to prise off the throne), then finally found her niche.

‘But we’re not ready,’ some of us said.

‘You’ll never be ready, and you’ll never feel good enough,‘ advised one old musician. ‘You just have to do it- you’ll learn so much.’

As a theatre performer anyway, I was super keen to push us all out there, so gently coaxed/prodded/reassured and nagged.

We checked out the Open Mic the previous month, and agreed the crowd was warm, friendly, and supportive. We agreed on two songs, and practiced them over and over, with two singers, two guitarists, keyboards, bass, and me on drums. We agreed to wear black and red, agreed to meet there an hour beforehand, even agreed on who was carpooling with whom… but simply could NOT agree on a name.

Then I read that Ruth Miller, who had inspired me to start this group via her Leicester-based Unglamorous Music Project had just died.

I sat in the rainforest in Australia and cried. She’d known about us over here: someone online had sent her my last blog post about her, and she’d shared it to her networks. This little blog got over 250 views in one day- I was almost viral :). Although we’d never met, she absolutely felt like my mentor, or my ‘punk Mum HERE’ as she was known.

In just two years, she had inspired 12 bands to form in the UK, and the punk scene was taking off again:

‘We write our own music and we’ve got a lot to say about everything we’re angry about. I’ve been enraged for years.’ Alison Dunne – stage name Fish – has formed a punk band at the age of 58 because, as she said: “I’ve got no fucks to give any more about what anyone thinks of me.” The Guardian, Feb 7, 2023

I had imagined going to meet Ruth the next time I was in England… in my wildest dreams, I imagined her band The Verinos touring over here, or our band going to visit hers…

The agreement was unanimous when I proposed we perform as The Ruths for our first time. None of us would be here without her creative influence, from 10,000 miles away (17,000 kilometers).

I introduced the band to the pub crowd, and explained our name choice. Our first song was a cover of Nancy Sinatras ‘These Boots were made for Walking’, speeded up, and we rocked it. Our second song ‘Gloria’ had a few more mistakes, but we still got lots of cheers and calls for more, which felt wonderful.

Next time we hope to do at least one original, and I know that Ruth would approve.

“There is a very limited range of hobbies that are acceptable as an older woman,” said Miller. “If you like music, for example, then you’re expected to join a choir. The genius of punk is that you don’t need to have played an instrument before starting. The main thing is your lyrics,” she added. “Most bands are young, white men aged 19 to 23 and their lyrics are about their experiences. But put together women whose ages range from late 20s to early 70s, and their experience of life, their humour, their anger – these songs are absolutely brilliant.” The Guardian, Feb 7, 2023

Vale Ruth Miller, with gratitude for her musical attitude, G xO

Too old to learn the drums at 56? Hell no! One year later…

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Welcome Folks, to the best year of my life. I mean that. Twelve months ago exactly I bought my first electronic drum kit for $400, played it for 2 weeks every day, then upgraded to a $1500 kit. I wrote all about it HERE. A couple of months later I spent $500 on a cute blue acoustic kit (which means the proper ‘drum kit’ you see with rock bands), then again upgraded to my now-much-beloved-almost-new-proper Pearl kit, with pride of place in my living room:

And yes, I’d sleep there if I thought it would help me learn quicker.

For me, drums are the perfect combination of rhythm, dance, meditation, creativity, focus, play, fun, and discipline. I try and play every day for an hour (sometimes more), and let me acknowledge here what a privilege this is: I don’t have to deal with a fulltime job, 3 kids, a struggle with homelessness, or even just grumpy neighbours.

I am SO blessed.

Last week marked six months of weekly rehearsals with my group of over-45 women who had always wanted to be in a band but hadn’t yet; I wrote about that project HERE.

And it all started with this fabulous article about Ruth Miller and Unglamorous music:

“The unlikely story of England’s all-female, middle-aged punk scene“

From that original gathering of 20 women, 10 of us became regulars at Nedlands in Lismore, which is an old farming shed down a dirt road on the outskirts of town, converted into 2 music studios, each with a drum kit, mikes & amps, plus soundproofing and aircon.

All for only $20/hr to hire!

I’m proud to say I’ve only missed one, and that was two weeks ago because I was in Melbourne. Apparently, the bass player put the metronome on her iPad in the middle of the Studio floor as they all began to play, and just watched as everyone slid off the beat… so I was actually missed.

*happy grin.

The next big step of course is performing. As a performer anyway, I’m super keen. But some women have never been on stage before, or even contemplated that as possible, so there’s a variety of anxities to address.

Last week, Nev (who created Nedlands for his drumming son Ned) suggested we play one song at their Xmas party, which of course thrilled me, but not everyone. However, to the protest that ‘We’re not ready’, Nev wisely said:

‘You’re never ready, and you’re never as good as you want to be. But you learn so much. You’ve just got to do it.’

I like Nev’s attitude. And I think that sums up my one year of drumming perfectly.

I have SO DAMN MUCH to learn of course, but oh my Goddess what fun I’ve had already; if you’re reading this and you’ve always wanted to play an instrument or sing or tap dance or make furniture or write a memoir or carve ice sculptures etc, this is your sign.

Just BEGIN.

Because the next year is going to go by anyway…

In gratitude for my privilege, commitment, and Joy, G xO

How reading an article about over 50s women musicians changed my life

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Hello Folks, thanks for dropping by. Are you reading this post while sipping tea or coffee? That’s what I was doing when I read an article online which has changed my life dramatically in the last 12 months, and here it is: ArticleThatMayChangeYourLife.

My new Shero– who I’ve never met but hope to one day- Ruth Miller had a gem of an idea to start an over 50s punk band, especially for women who never had a chance to do that when they were younger (for whatever reasons).

YES. YES. YES PLEASE.

In 2021, using the name Unglamorous Music, she launched workshops to teach simple song writing and instrument playing to women around Leicester in England; now there are 8 all-female bands gigging round her local area, and they’ve just released a 12-song sampler you can buy HERE (vinyl, CD or digital).

As I’ve written in my previous post, the urge to start playing the drums came to me in a shaft of bright light from above, and that article about Ruth may have been the catalyst to knock the cap off my withheld desire.

I haven’t looked back. I only work part time, and live alone now since my son went travelling, so I can obsessively practice my triplets at 7am in bed if I want, or watch old drumming clips on YouTube instead of a movie. I can twirl my sticks while chatting on the phone, or tap rhythmically on the kitchen bench while waiting for the kettle to boil. My son ’23Now’ would arrive home after work to find me furiously banging away with headphones on, in a world of my own, so his sudden appearance in the living room would shock me.

Then I thought: “There must be other women round here who want to play instruments…”

With enthusiastic nerves and naive courage, I offered a free workshop in the local Women’s Festival, for International Women’s Day 8 March:

“If I get 4 women, we can form a band,” I mused…

The week before the workshop, my phone began to ring every day with a new enquiry; on the night in question, twenty women showed up.

I’d made a list of 3 things I knew we had to do:

  1. Beg/borrow/buy/hire our instrument of choice
  2. Commit to daily practice (even if only 10 mins)
  3. Plan our next get-together

All kinds of women and humans listened and shared their stories, including two 68-yr olds who’d been in bands in London in the 70s; a woman who was in a real punk band in the 80s; women who’d played guitars/flute/piano accordion/drums/bass/ukelele/keyboards, three singers, and one who brought an ancient rattle from Egypt who just wanted to get over her recent divorce.

YES. YES. YES PLEASE.

The two hours flew by, as I guided the group by instinct and luck, admitting I’d only been drumming for 3 months but was obsessed. We agreed to meet again in a fortnight, and that I would make a private Facebook group for us all.

I felt so honoured that these folk trusted me to nurture their musical dreams and desires; it made me even more determined to become a good drummer, so I could literally back them up.

And what happened next? Tune in next time 🙂

What instrument did you used to play? Are you inspired to pick it up again, or try a new one? Please tell!

With gratitude for music, G xO

It all started 9 months ago, and no, I’m not pregnant, (at nearly 57): it’s musical

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Hello Folks, and thanks for dropping by. My new direction began on a Wednesday evening, having a 5Rhythms dance in a hall with buddies, when a friend asked if there was anything I wanted to do that I hadn’t done yet?

Great question right?

To my utter shock, despite quick thoughts of “Dismantle the patriarchy/live in Berlin or Paris for a year/hike Machu Picchu/write a book/achieve world peace/horse-ride across Mongolia/install a plunge pool with infrared sauna” etc, a wide beam of light shone down upon me from above, and what came out of my mouth was:

“Play the drums.”

I kid you not: I surprised even myself. But I got goosebumps; I felt a rush of excitement and glee; my heart felt like it grew wings.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learnt in my creative life, it’s to listen to those somatic messages.

So I took a deep breath, and just let the concept hum through my body. Luckily, my friends smiled and cheered; it was a vulnerable moment of truth, and no one scoffed.

I am very grateful for that.

I kept breathing, and miraculously, no inner critic or judge jumped onto my shoulder with that all-too-common refrain: TooOldTooHardTooLateRidiculousMidLifeCrisisSoSelfIndulgent

I drove home grinning, and began my research that very night…

The following Tuesday, I had a $400 electronic drum kit set up in my bedroom, like a teenager, thanks to Marketplace. I texted the photo to all my closest friends. My rationale was that I should see how I went practicing for a month, then perhaps buy a better kit?

Two days later, my dear friend S replied and asked if I could do a drum roll?

I thought she was just being supportive and encouraging, but she continued questioning:

She was one of the performers for the Over 50s Cabaret as part of the Mullumbimby Circus Festival, and that’s how I found myself lugging my new old kit and heavy amp down to a circus marquee for ‘sound check’.

I brought to the stage my naive confidence, my enthusiasm, my natural sense of timing, and my utter humility in the presence of REAL musicians (who have actually toured the world with companies like Circus Oz and Circus Monoxide), plus my sequinned pants.

I think you’ll agree it was an auspicious start!

I’ve always loved the drums, and as a dancer and mover, I tune in to the drums and bass most easily. While growing up in England, as a confused and surly teenager, I loved punk music, as well as reggae and disco, and wish I’d had the courage to ask to learn to play the drums back then.

But we were very poor, living in a tall, cold, rundown Victorian house split into 3 apartments, and my poor Mum would have had an anxiety attack if she’d known what I wanted to play.

I finally dabbled with African drums at age 30, learning from a local teacher who told me I had natural rhythm, but needed to apply myself *cue the eyeroll of my inner confused and surly teenager still lurking.

Then I had my son, bought a house that needed renovating, went back to study etc etc, and suddenly I’m nearly 60, and the drumming desire still lies dormant.

Not any more 🙂

What about you? Do you have a secret creative longing we need to activate?

To be continued…

With absolute love and gratitude for rhythm, G xO

Seven months away from WordPress: am I back? Anyone still out there? And what have I actually been doing?

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Hello Folks, thanks for dropping by. I’ve been utterly missing in action I confess: have logged in maybe twice, read a couple of posts, shrugged nonchalantly, and gone again.

Some of my fav bloggers have shut themselves down, and moved to social media more regularly. Some are still here, but kinda saying the same things to be honest…

Of course, a number of blogs remain funny/sharp/fabulous etc, and I have just wandered around today catching up on Who is Where doing What and with what Success.

I’ve personally been super busily OBSESSED with a completely new creative direction. It’s nearly nine months, and I have never felt so compelled, so inspired, so excited, so delighted!

It’s better than a new lover. It’s better than a fine-dining meal. It’s waaaay better than Xmas or a birthday.

What have I been up to? A new post will reveal all 🙂

Thank you for reading and wondering: can you guess??

In gratitude for new challenges, G xO

Has the new visual media stolen me from WordPress? Our online community has changed so much

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Hello everyone, thanks for dropping by; I know it’s been a while since I was in your feed.

I’ve been blogging since 2008, and this is my fourth blog. Like Sandy in Grease, I was ‘totally devoted’ for a long time, and relished my sense of community and connection here.

Some of you were with me from the beginning, when I holed up in an old Barn in the South West of France, blogging to stay in contact with my friends and family, giving my son ‘ThenOnly15’ a taste of life away from Australia (I wrote one of my favourite pieces there (please click that link), as the countryside changed around us).

Some of you have survived my many romantic adventures, from the highs to the lows (this blog evolved into an online dating report for a while…), and have been so generous with advice, support, and deep caring when I sank into the challenges of losing my Mum to dementia.

I thank all of you for being here; for being witnesses to my life in the written world.

So what’s happened? To all of us. There seems to be much less engagement here, and fewer comments. At least three-quarters of my favourite bloggers have either stopped altogether and disappeared, or else just post once a month or so.

My morning routine- a source of simultaneously great comfort and creative inspiration- was to sit in bed with my laptop and a pot of peppermint tea at least twice a week, reading/commenting/writing on WordPress.

Now I take a quick flick on my phone app if I’ve got nothing else to do, read a couple of blog posts, and perhaps comment… but I’ve noticed I’m watching a lot of compelling Instagram reels instead! Of course, I’ve also become super-busy again as the world has opened up post-Covid, with various gigs, shows, gardening and travel adventures.

What do you think? Have you too been seduced by the evolution of ‘reels’ and Tik Tok? Has WordPress lost its shine for you? I know so many of us here truly love words; can a clever catchy video REALLY replace a well-written blog post? Am I just being lazy?

I’d LOVE your thoughts in the comments below,

In gratitude for self-reflection & community, G xO

Being playful keeps you young, over 50 or over 80

Sometimes it smashes on my head like a water balloon

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Hello folks, thanks for dropping by.

Today, as I crossed the street in my small Australian regional town, I passed a handsome hairy wolfhound crossing the other way.

“What a great-looking dog; Mum would have loved to stop and say hello to him,” I thought.

And there it came: the burst of sadness upon me, running through my mind and body like cold water from a balloon.

I didn’t cry, or even sniff. I kept walking to the supermarket and health food store, but trailing my dripping heart behind me, just for a moment.

She’s been gone one year, two months. And I’m relieved she’s free of dementia, as I’ve said many times, as well as all the painful memories and stresses which came between us as I grew up.

But sometimes, I wish I could call her. I’d love to tell her about the wonderful film I just saw, ‘Good luck to you Leo Grande’ with Emma Thompson (you MUST see it if you haven’t already). Or the delicious fancy meal my son ’22’ and I recently shared, which she’d have oohed and aahed over.

I’d love to tell her that the native shrub I planted for her when she died, is flowering now, in her favourite vivid colour.

I’d love her to know how well we’re doing, despite losing her, and that she’s lucky she’s not here any more, to be devastated by the war in Ukraine, and the terrible floods in Pakistan.

*sigh

Sometimes the cold flood of loss and grief washes over me, just like a water bomb reaching its target, then it passes.

Does anything like that ever happen to you?

In gratitude for resilience in the face of loss, however big, however small- it all hurts the soul- G xO

Yet more photos from the Australian desert during a silent bushwalking adventure (Part Three)

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Hello Folks, thanks for dropping by.

I’m trying to upload more photos from my Meditation walk, but the dumb smartphone is not complying. How I wish I was back in the desert, just walking (Part One and Part Two are here).

I miss the circle of power as we meditate together, which makes my brain buzz. I miss the break from no admin, no work, no housecleaning, no driving, no cooking!

I miss the incredible gift of walking among Red Cabbage palms who only grow here, in a narrow gorge, with scientists still wondering how they arrived and thrive.

I miss the simplicity of only having two outfits: walking clothes, and back-at-camp-&-sleeping clothes. Keeping warm, then safe from sunburn, then warm again saw a juggle of hats/beanies/scarves & sarongs (even though it was ‘winter’ in the desert, the sun is still strong).

Fashion sense did not apply.

It was such a relief to be silent. To walk and eat in silence; to pack up and down in silence; to spend time with new humans in challenging circumstances like a 25km hike, yet not chattering, or knowing what they do for a job, or how many kids they have.

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To spend time with the desert country was a huge privilege, and we introduced ourselves to each new campsite, thanking the ancestors for having us, letting them know that we came in peace and healing.

When did you last have a nature walk? Have you ever walked in silence with a friend? I so recommend it.

More photos coming soon, when I can get my phone to cooperate…

In gratitude for boots, backpacks, and quiet buddies, G xO

More photos from the Australian desert during a silent bushwalking adventure, with brumbies & a camel (Part Two)

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Hello folks, and welcome to Part Two of my Yatra photo blog; Part One is here.

Remember, a Yatra is a silent, meditative walk, a journey from the quiet heart…

Except when it’s not. Wild brumbies galloped down the rocky river bed one night, making me fear for my tent and belongings. A sick-sounding camel moaned its way along the river bank, and the nightly howl of dingoes (both far and near) reminded me that we were out in the Australian desert, a long way from safety and suburbia! Not to mention the sometimes-very-annoying habits of my fellow travellers, particularly snoring. But that’s in another post 🙂

From the big to the small, I loved it. The chance to walk, think, rest, meditate, walk, swim (SO COLD), eat vegetarian food, and walk more, with like-minded folks of all types and ages, was such a blessing.

I did one a year ago HERE, and really hope I get to do another next year, and every year after that…

Yatra Australia pick different places to explore (this one in the Finke River of Central Australia took them 5 years to establish, from the initial idea, to the mapping of the walk, to the logistics of hiring buses/cars/a trailer etc), and I’d love to do one in Tasmania.

They’re smart too: planned this one for the full moon, so we were treated to a silvered landscape at night (which offered a small compensation for the agony of getting out of a warm sleeping bag into a below zero world for that final toilet call).

Come back next time for more stunning images, including my fav shot of the whole trip, with both the full moon and dawn’s rays lighting up the red cliff…

In gratitude for walking, and wild places still being wild, G xO

Photos from the Australian desert during a silent bushwalking adventure, with a vegetarian cook & dingoes (Part One)

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Hello folks, I’m back from the yatra, as calm and settled as can be nowadays. “What’s a yatra”, some of you wonder? This explains it, from the Yatra Australia website:

“A yatra is a unique journey providing a special environment to engage with and enquire deeply into the potential of ‘human awakening.’ In the company of like-minded people, it takes place within some of the most pristine landscapes of our natural world.

A yatra offers an integrative experience, combining physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual explorations in a secular environment. Being primarily based in the Buddhist tradition we also respect and draw from the wealth of many other wisdom traditions such as yoga, advaita, tao, modern science and tribal cultures.

A flexible combination of yoga, meditation, silent walking, dharma teachings, experiential exercises, story telling around the camp- fire, wholesome meals and our intuitive way of ceremony and creative expression support an unfolding process.

Got it? Let’s get on with it then. So we flew to Alice Springs, got the 4WD bus out towards Palm Valley (2 hours on sandy corrugated roads), and set up camp for the first three days.

Who’s ‘we’? Thirty intrepid walkers, with full camping gear each for 10 days, plus a daypack for the daily hikes. There were also 2 Buddhist teachers, a vegetarian cook called TeaCosy, 3 volunteer assistants to help with pack up/pack down, and a partridge in a pear gum tree.

Desert temperatures in Australian winter are 20’C in the day (68F), but zero sometimes at night, hence puffer jackets, beanies, gloves and scarves.

I’ve done a yatra before, last year, so knew what to expect, but still… that first morning bell at 6.30am with frost on the tent fly was hard to obey!

Cup of tea (no coffee allowed), then stumble to the meditation circle, clutching a blanket, as bundled up as you can be, ready to sit from 6.45-7.30. Porridge for brekky, then make lunch box of salads with egg and falafels, before either another meditation, or the start of a walk.

And why did I take so many photos of that ring? See you soon for Part Two…

In gratitude for good boots and the privilege of meditation, G xO