Now living in South Shields, retired teacher Rosie Anderson still feels there is work to do and more stories to tell.

‘Sometimes I feel as though I’m just getting started. I sing whenever I can. This year my musical partner Adam Holden and I have played at The Watch House in Cullercoats, The White Room in Stanley and Cockermouth Festival which were all great. I’m determined not to just bow out because I’m getting older’.

‘I grew up in Wylam in the Tyne Valley, in a house full of music. Both my Grandparents played piano. My dad listened to The Beatles, both parents loved the theatre and musicals and they took me and my brother there – I still love all that’.

‘When I was a kid I told my parents I wanted to be a performer but they were worried I wouldn’t be able to afford a home like them, they wanted me to have a ‘proper’ job. They wouldn’t let me study performing arts so I trained as a teacher’.

‘My first job was in Benwell, Newcastle. Then I went to the Middle East where I spent 10 years teaching in Kuwait and Qatar, before returning to Newcastle. I taught at Walkergate Primary School where I would do all the music shows and drama productions. Loved doing the shows there, I never gave lyric sheets out to the kids, they learned by listening and singing the songs back’.

‘When I left teaching I saw an advert for facilitators for  Singing for the Brain with the Alzheimers Society. I really loved doing that. I did that for six years until covid hit. Singing on-line with people on the screen in front of you didn’t work really’.

‘People love stories in whatever form, be it a book, a film or a song. Some people write songs about being in love, and about their feelings. My songs are mostly about people and places. I find stories present themselves to me and I take them and turn them into a song’.

‘There are two songs that I have written that stand out for me. Sally Smiths Lament was written after my husband Chris and I worked on a film about soldiers from County Durham during World War One’.

‘Sally was the wife of miner Fred Smith, who featured in our film. They lived in a tiny terraced house and every day Fred and his sons needed a bath, a clean shirt, a clean bed and a dinner. The kids needed to get to school – how did she cope with all that, especially when Fred was away at war. I wanted to give Sally, and all the women like her, a voice.’

‘When I wrote it the song just seemed to be presented to me, her whole life. I got to sing it at a celebration in West Auckland and her family came to hear it – it was very moving. It travelled well and won three competitions – the Newcastle Folk Club, Rothbury Traditional Music Festival and first prize at Morpeth Gathering’.

‘I can’t just decide to sit down and write a song – some people do and I applaud them for the discipline but I have to wait until they come. Three things happened to me in my life that I put together in a song called Breakdown’.

‘When I was a kid I lived at Chapel House Estate in the west end of Newcastle. One night me, my mother and a friend went for a walk. This woman came out of her house in her dressing gown, she wasn’t in control of herself, didn’t know what time or day it was. I had never seen that behaviour in an adult before. Now I believe she was having a nervous breakdown’.

‘That always stayed in my head and another one was when I was living in Fenham. I went to the shops with my children who were only small then, and a woman came out of her house with a letter and asked if I would read it to her as she was confused and couldn’t understand it’.

‘Then about 30 years ago I went on a blind date in Newcastle with this very nice bloke. He said I need to tell you something before we go any further ‘When I was working in Canada I had a nervous breakdown in the car park of a Burger King’. It was hard to concentrate on anything else after that’.

‘But I remembered those incidents and those three individual people are lodged in my heart for their own traumas. They gave me that song’.

‘This year we went to Kjerringoy a former trading post in the Norwegian Arctic Circle, out in the middle of nowhere, it was beautiful. A family ran it in the 19^th century and had 3000 fishermen working for them, catching and processing thousands of tons of cod’.

‘The father and husband died and the wife continued to run it single-handed for many years until she eventually remarried. I asked the locals if there was a song about her and there isn’t. So that’s my next song – Annalisa from Kjerringoy. Her story needs to be told’.

‘I’m also aware we need to start telling more stories about people and their lives and jobs today otherwise in 100 years time there will be no one singing about us!‘

‘What does music mean to me? It’s hard to describe it, it’s so deeply embedded, there’s no life without it. Music is at the core of my being, there is no day without singing and because I have grandchildren now I have a new audience! We sing folk songs and songs from musicals, they’re word perfect when they sing them back’.

‘Music gives such joy, when I was singing with the Alzheimers Society the collective joy and reminiscences of songs from the past and enjoying it together was just so valuable for the families’.

‘We had people who wouldn’t sing at all but liked being there and that was fine. Once, two women brought their mother to a session and she sat between them. She didn’t communicate at all, had her head down, closed off you know. But when we started singing a song, I can’t remember which one, she lifted her head up and actually got up and started moving around in the middle of the circle’.

‘One daughter got up and started dancing with her. When we got to the end of the song the daughter turned round and said to me ‘She’s just said my name for the first time in years’.

‘Music gets right in there (pointing at heart) we’ve got to keep it going and expose our youngest children and oldest adults to music because it really does reach parts that others can’t reach. It’s like hearing the heartbeat in your mother’s womb’.

‘As a child I wanted to do music, as an adult I taught it with kids then people with dementia, despite my age I’m still committed to what I always wanted to do. Women who’ve had careers and families can still chase their dreams’.

Alikivi   September  2024