As the wife of a High School Band Director one of my many duties (although to be honest I do not consider them a duty when it involves hanging out with a bunch of mostly wonderful teenagers, it is a pleasure to share in their achievements and triumphs) is to attend various milestones in the band's life not least of which is Homecoming (the various competitions and parades are in the future.) This was my first appearance before the new band and my husband of course introduced me as "the woman not to be messed with upon fear of death" at which point all the returning band members yelled "hi Ms. Nick" (I bet you were all wondering where my Photobucket handle came from were you not?) As I milled around the band room I noticed several scenes, a whole gamut of emotions on display, this, Homecoming, was the night that the half-time show was to have its first performance and the room was thick with nerves. The show is "Music of the 70s" and this would be the first time the show had been on the field. As it was Homecoming the "half-time" show was to be performed at pre-game to enable the Homecoming queen ceremony to take place at half time. So if the fact that it was the first time the show was to be performed on the field were not enough it was also Homecoming, which meant, of course, that lots of former (and hugely successful) band members would be returning to the school to see how the current band were doing, not to put too fine a point on it this was "crunch night." So that you can imagine the music in your head the selections are 1) Kansas "Carry on Wayward Son" 2) Led Zepplin "Stairway to Heaven" 3) Edgar Winter "Frankenstein" and 4) Earth Wind and Fire "Fantasy." This year the props were relatively simple (for us that is) four album covers representing the albums on which the selected pieces were carried, and a "rock band" stage, where the electric guitars and a drum set were located. So come with me through two sets of double doors in the art wing of West Columbus High School, behind the scenes, into the band room of the West Columbus High School Marching Vikings on Homecoming night.

As can be imagined the Drum Majors (Megan Senior Drum Major and Casey Junior Drum Major) were on pins and needles. "But Mr. Nick, what if I forget the beat?"



With all the chaos going on in the Band Room it would appear that there is always a few minutes for a quick sectional rehearsal.



Meanwhile the drum majors give each other encouragement.



As the clock ticks, and the show grows ever nearer, some bite their nails, others resort to laughter to ease the tension.



But nothing can calm the Drum Majors' nerves, perhaps Megan has more than one thing on her mind?



With the final warm up only moments away it is time to "pin the Captains"



To the enthusiastic applause of the rest of the band, perhaps they aspire to those silver bars?



So as the clock marches on it is time for a final rehearsal of the National Anthem.



And time for final uniform adjustments, "what ifs" and questions.



As well as some more nervous laughter



Outside the activities were in full swing, including a dunking booth, which had a long line waiting to "dunk" the principal Mr. Edwards.



As the sun began to set behind the trees, the football team took to the field to warm up.



The pit crew is set, and the light begins to fade.



and a lazy half moon hangs in the sky like a christmas ornament hanging on a Carolina Blue christmas tree.



The "stage" has been set and the band marches onto the field, you could cut the air with a knife.



While a jet heads across the sky to parts unknown.



The band are ready, it is time, hearts are pounding in chests, throats are dry, notes have been forgotten and then remembered, steps have been stepped and stepped and stepped in the mind, they wait, wait, wait, for the show to begin.



Suddenly the night sky is pierced by the sound of an electric guitar... the "rock band" takes the "stage"



The crowd goes wild, the show is a success, there is a lot of rehearsing to do between now and the first competition, lots of refining, lots of improvement, but WE DID IT, the show is on the field, we did the whole show, and the crowd loved it. Hearts are pounding, sweat is rolling, lungs are gasping for breath. The crowd rises to its feet.....



(ALERT I would like to apologize for the quality of the following images but I was shooting without a flash and when you read the back story you will understand why I HAD to post them even though they are very, very, very sorry - sorry).

So half-time comes along and it is time to crown the Homecoming Queen..... the names are announced second runner up is a band member, first runner up is a band member.... and the Homecoming Queen is



Hmmmmm no wonder Megan was so nervous! Never mind it made for one VERY proud Band Director



especially seeing as it is two years in a row



I hope you enjoyed your evening with the Marching Vikings, after the game we descended upon Pizza Hut and drove the wait staff to distraction as always (they are the most understanding staff in any restaurant on the planet) and celebrated the fact that the first half-time show was in the bag. Next, Columbus County Battle of the Bands.... another essay to follow.

There are lots of things I miss living in the US. Of course there is the food, and whereas most people think that English food is absolute rubbish there is nothing I love more than a meat and tatey pie, chips, peas and gravy, cup of tea and bread and butter. There is something quite exquisite about stopping at a cafe in town and downing such a meal, it is without doubt a taste of heaven. But, other than food there are other things I miss. When I was living in Cornwall with my first husband our kitchen door was left open on a regular basis to allow our boxer puppy to go outside whenever he wanted. I wandered into the kitchen on one balmy evening to find a Hedgehog in the kitchen eating Danni's food. It sat there, by the dog food bowl, merrily munching away at the tinned food, I attempted to shoo it out but it was having nothing of it, so I left it alone. After it had eaten all of the dog food leftovers it wandered back into the garden to forage for slugs and such. I miss hedgehogs, my love of them goes back to Beatrice Potter's Mrs. Tiggiwinkle, and after that episode with the dog food I would put out a saucer of bread and milk every evening to make sure that my little visitor was well fed. I miss the sheer joy of driving to my Uncle's home in Sandside and on the way seeing the herd of Red Deer in the estate by the side of the road in Milnthorpe, while the deer here in the US are just as pretty there is something so majestic about Red Deer. I miss lupines and sweet pea flowers, neither of which I can grow in the oppressive humid heat of North Carolina. I miss dog daisies growing by the side of the road, I miss buttercups and daisies growing in the lawn, I miss making daisy chains. I miss jumping from the rocks around Devil's Bridge into the icy cold water of the river on a hot, sunny afternoon. I miss pub lunches in ancient village pubs where they have raffles on a Sunday. I miss walking the dog down by the canal and wandering through the bluebell woods. I miss the sheer silliness of the News of the World on a Sunday morning. I miss my family. I miss driving to the lake district and climbing the fells and then standing on the edge of a lake and watching the fog lazily crawl across Lake Windermere. I miss bed and breakfasts with massive beds, claw foot bath tubs, and a breakfast big enough to feed a family of four. I miss afternoon teas, with scones, clotted cream, strawberry jam and real butter. I miss hanging out in a pub playing darts and drinking lager. I miss Sundays in England, where the morning would begin with a large breakfast eaten while reading the Sunday papers (See News of the World) above, after breakfast (shortly after) everyone would get dressed and head to the pub (on foot) for the weekly Sunday social with all of the neighbours while the roast beef, chicken or whatever was roasting in the stove. On return to the house at 2pm (when the pub closed) a very enormous Sunday lunch would be eaten and enjoyed by all (traditionally roast beef and yorkshire pudding with all the trimmings) we would all sit around and watch tv and talk and pat our fat bellies. I miss that. I miss my friends. I miss shopping in Asda. I miss pork pies, lancashire cheese, smoked bacon, gammon steaks, pot noodles, vesta chow mein and scampi and chips. I miss tulips that come back every year. I miss The Body Shop. I miss Top Shop and Etam where I could walk in and clothes would actually fit me and I didn't have to sort through 27 different sizes to get clothes to fit ( I mean what the hell is Missy anyway?). I miss Marks and Spencer underwear. I miss wandering down to the Priory Church and sitting and spending time with my Dad's grave. I miss the church in Warton where I can spend time with my ancestors. I miss going to a butcher's shop and having them cut me a piece of meat for my husband that is EXACTLY what he wants. I miss parched peas. I miss going out on the town with my Sister and her husband and getting silly drunk and singing bad Kareoke and then stopping off for bad pizza before going back to their house for more partying. I miss my friend Lynn. I miss the fields of sheep and cows while driving up the motorway, I miss church steeples, villages, and I miss the patchwork quilt of the landscape. So you may ask, what on earth am I still doing here? Because I have a home with almost an acre of land where I can garden to my heart's content, where I can ensure that my critters are safe, where I have tree frogs, snakes, lizards, dragonflies, birds and butterflies that I would never have in England, and the bottom line, it is where my husband wants to be, and where he is, I am.

My neighbor to the right is on deployment right now so he is renting his house. Naturally he (or the rental agency) has employed a lawn company to go out there and cut the grass every couple of weeks. I have no problem with that, however I also heard a weedeater out there and I discovered that they had weedeated around my lombardy poplars stripping the bases of the trees.... I am afraid to go out and confront them seeing as they have already done it (when I do it I use clippers and do not touch the bark of the trees).... the next time these guys arrive I am going to be ready, with a rather large boxer on a leash.... when I politely ask them NOT to weedeat my Lombardy Poplars.

PS) I never thought in a thousand years that I would find myself in a place where I would be saying to something "don't eat the curtains" as I had to say to Cueball this evening, he was merrily chomping down on the living room curtains like they were cotton candy....I amy have to rethink this adopting another boxer thing.

I have been checking out the website of late, I am feeling the need to rescue a boxer, there are so many adorable faces on the site that it is almost impossible to choose.... methinks that a new addition to the family is in order...

http://www.homelesspets.com/special_adoption.html

That will never do, I finally got a Canna bloom that was low enough for me to take shots of without me using a stepladder, (they grow really big in my garden). These things, a gift from my neighbor several years ago grow like veritable weeds in my garden, and are quite adept at jumping landscape timbers and coming up in the most unlikely of places. This one is "King Umbert" I believe (althought I could be wrong) the most wonderful tye dye look of any flower I have....So I took my spray bottle and a couple of different backdrops and took some shots. Hope you enjoy.