What a way to wake up on a winter morning. Frost on thick grass, pale mist over the fields, crisp cold and glorious morning sunshine. Winter can be so sublime. I was staying at what some might call a country house, others a rural idyll. My trips to Sussex are few and far between these days. Given how hard it is to function in my chemically medication controlled sleep I felt wonderful this morning. And that despite not sleeping much.
Last night I attended the retirement carol service of my old friend Neil Cox. He put up with my petulant adolescent arrogance and nurtured my musical talent. Only he ever made me enjoy the violin. And he let me sing. I think I joined him for twelve choir tours over the years. And for that I'm hugely grateful. The music was sublime. I saw old friends. I drank mediocre wine but that didn't matter. The only sad part is that my friend Ross's daughter was unwell so couldn't sing. Funny how small the world is. Cambridge connections turn to Lancing connections. What wonderful hosts they were and Eliza despite being not at her best was charming, interested and kind. I certainly wasn't like that at 14.
The journey home was fine. I took a lunch at The Waggoners and am now home listening to Radio 3 and cooking a beef ragu. You may recall pasta is not my thing but thought I would give it a go. I don't think I'm eat it today but can freeze. Smells pretty good.
In two weeks exactly I will be tucking into turkey and glazed gammon. Christmas has come fast. After this year I have some relief and some fear. Memories of dad being so ill are never far from my mind. But he is well and all should go to plan.
I'll leave it there for today. Back to work tomorrow. Enjoy the setting sun.
I Heard a Voice.
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