A Deviation From the Norm.

If you are a regular reader of my blog you will know well what I do on Sundays. Actually all my regulars seem to have disappeared the last couple of weeks. It looked earlier last month as if I would break my veiwing record for the 2nd month in a row but a sharp fall off stopped that from happening. The norm for my Sundays is Mozart and roasting some fine meat in the true English style. Well today neither happened. I went out for lunch-I can't remember the last time I did that whilst at home in Hertfordshire-and there has not been a shred of Mozart.

In its stead there has been a great deal of religious music as befits the Sundays my dad and sister undertake. I do not go to church except for funerals, weddings, and rare singing appearances. I do quite like looking round them-church spotting as we used to refer to my old school friend Professor Steve's past time-particularly the medieval ones that litter the quaint English village countryside.

My tastes instead turned firstly to Mendelssohn, then Haydn's Creation and finally now to the Tudor music of Orlando Gibbons. Gibbons like me was a King's chorister. It was pretty brutal and ruthless back in the late 70s and early 80s so I hate to think what it was like in his day. He of course is remembered 500 years later. Whilst King's will remain I will not in 500 years. The fate of almost all of us.

Anyway, the music has been sublime. When I left school and went on trips after I was forced for a couple of years to sing alto; I was a terrible alto. My friend Tina is a rather accomplised alto. She tells me singing alto in the Creation is very boring. In sharp contrast Gibbons is an altos dream. Good luck to them and may there be a revival.

There is still time left on this holiday weekend. I have been somewhat domesticated and really sorted my flat out. In my slightly overzealous if lacking attention to detail way I almost managed to throw away my car insurance and MOT certificates. That would have been a nightmare come November. But I saved them.

One more day to go, an afternoon of a country pub, an evening of Moghul style roast lamb then I hope a better night's sleep than the last 2-yes the dreams have returned. Then and only then do I go back to the world of the mad. That is always assuming I have no relapse in between. I'm not expecting that and in the main feel reasonably okay. I'll drink to that!!!

I Heard a Voice.