– by Barry Mathias –
Those who live full-time on an island will know you can never be bored. Apart from the fact that there are enough meetings to satisfy your most voracious need for information, there are also unlimited numbers of ‘get-out-there-and do-it’ groups that pander to your most secret desires. So, with a rush of enthusiasm that surprises even your most supportive partner, you join something. Let’s start with the choir.
Your voice, which you have kept hidden away from public scrutiny since the embarrassment of childhood concerts, is suddenly revealed in all its uncertain glory. At school you were allowed on stage, to please the parents, only as long as you didn’t sing: “Just mime, dear, that’ll be lovely!”
In this new wave of enthusiasm, you become a life-member at the ‘one-time-special price’; buy all the choir books, only to remember you can’t read music, and turn up for your first rehearsal in the newly purchased choir sweatshirt that is one size too small. There is the difficult conversation: “You did say you were a tenor?” – the stunned expression on the conductor’s face as you sing two lines of the National Anthem with ‘da da’ in place of the words you’ve forgotten. Then comes the brief but painful pause before the damning words: “Perhaps we’ll start you in the basses?” and you find yourself at the far end of stage right, unseen by much of the audience, and unheard by the rest.
There is often a drama society. Always a lively group, it’s often comprised of mature individuals who will don makeup and costume in order to act the characters they always hoped they might become. Not wishing to be seen to be too anxious to grab the lead role, you confess, in a moment of flamboyance, to a vague interest in helping ‘back-stage’. Bad timing! Before you can say “To be or not to be,” you are the new Stage Manager. It’s your job to erect complex stage sets, waste hours painting a forest scene, only to be told it’s now the inside of a dungeon, and have a brief, misspelled mention in the program notes. Perhaps a walk-on part next year?
A walking group is another welcoming gathering, especially if you are new to the Island. It is the quickest way to discover the best trails and the most delectable pieces of social indiscretion. A minor problem, however, is the question of walking partners: after the large ‘hale-fellow-well met’ gathering at the start, the group quickly separates into the quasi-Olympian sprint-walkers at the front, and the amiable shambling fraternity at the back. In the middle, you find yourself walking in pairs, a mercurial way of inspiring gossip, or in threes, which means someone, probably you, is forever falling off the trail. However, there is no competition: if you want to be last, nobody objects.
Church groups are always pleased to accept new members, and maturity is not a necessity, although it sometimes appears so. It is interesting to discover the variety of interpretations that exist of how to recognize a single deity … choice is guaranteed.
Finally, there is the local island pub. When all else fails, a brief sojourn among cheerful strangers is a wonderful ‘pick-you-up’….unless, of course, you live on Denman Island, where home-brew reigns supreme. When overwhelmed by choice, there is always an escape visit to Sidney!
