Another place another nightmare. Actually it was 4 nightmares last night and early this morning. It has been a very bad dreaming holiday. There is no explanation, I'm under no stress at all. I saw a book by Freud about dreams yesterday, perhaps I should buy it.
As you will gather I'm back at home in Hertfordshire. My troubled night was marked by cold and I opened the curtains this morning to reveal a sharp frost and bitter temperatures. It really is cold out there despite the glorious winter sunshine.
By means of a change today I took another venture into my past. I was introduced to the music of Michael Head by my eccentric singing teacher at school. He was a strange man who I always felt had an unhealthy interest in young men. Nothing ever happened but he did make me feel uncomfortable at times. After many years I finally found a CD of Head's songs which dad you got me for Christmas. This morning I heard the hauntingly beautiful song cycle "Over the Rim of the Moon". That has not come to my ears since I performed it in my last ever concert of my school career in the summer of 1988. Most agreed it was not my finest performance. Mum complained that the piano was too loud. But it is a tough ask of an 18 year old to sing it in its entirety to 500 people. The year before I had sung the same composer's "The Singer" and blown the audience away. Those were the old days before madness. I was an arrogant fool then. Perhaps I still am.
The cold will keep me indoors today. Mozart will follow on from Head and the days of my holiday will pass. Soon I will be back in the melee. But before then there is slow roast pork, Rioja, and reading to do. See you all soon.
I Heard a Voice.
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