Saturday 17 August 2019

Dido's Lament Before Bed.

Some nights when it's very busy in the pub I don't always feel at home. Yes last night there were many people I knew as ever but there was little space to sit down, people were in their own little huddles and I was hidden away in the corner. It made a slightly uncomfortable end to a more settled but cold afflicted week.

It was a miserable day yesterday so not much cheer going out. When I got home I did something that is rare for me, took out my lenses and set aside my glasses and in my myopic state listened to Dido and Aeneas with the incomparable Janet Baker. In a weird way I have history with her as she sang on our recording of Durufle's Requiem. At the time I didn't know who she was.

Sat in my empty flat, without guests and the opera on I marvelled at Dido's lament and contemplated what has been going on in the last few weeks. Looking back on here I have been quite unsettled for a while. Today I feel calm but lacking emotion. I'll take that over troubled waters of late.

My Saturday is quite quiet. Yes I went to the butcher, wandered in town and did the washing. But that's as far as it goes. I have the Test match on and it is intriguing. Odds on it's going to be a draw given how much rain there has been. Good to watch though.

Back in my kitchen I'm planning fire, a very hot Thai red chicken curry. For reasons best known to anyone but me I have put myself in the culinary firing line and invited guests for dinner tomorrow. Let us hope than anxiety doesn't come for me in the morning. Roast chicken with a pearl barley stuffing is the plan. Never made stuffing before.

With that I'm going back to the cricket. I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing this. The readership has vanished over recent weeks. Still getting some stupid machine pretending to read every other day in Italy but I don't know how to stop that.

Not sure when I'll be back.

I Heard a Voice.

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