Good Morning Dear Friends!
Within, as I look around the library, I see that, for the moment, I am alone; without, the darkness of night still clings to the brickwork off the BPS like a child on his first day at school, afraid to let go of what he has always known and let a new world and a new day begin . . .
But soon the light will be upon and among us and a day full of plans to conduct and orchestrate, culminating in the visit of a dear friend this evening . . . but, before all that, there's all this !
I managed to get to and from Bury yesterday, despite the best ministrations of Ular the god of snow (and, for once, a practically correct usage of the word 'ministrations'!) and meet with my clients again who, bless their little cotton socks, seemed genuinely pleased to see me . . . the journey was surprisingly easy and uncomplicated and so I sat with my iPod burbling a hotchpotch of musical accompaniments in my ears as the miles passed serenely; a great travelling companion is the soundtrack from one of my favourite films Amelie - the music is by Yann Tierson and is a lovely mix of French accordion, strings and just a hint of Moroccan rhythms and sounds - a sort of musical palette that paints a lightening sketch of French culture . . .
I then skipped northwards to Scandinavia and the miraculous outpourings of Polar Studios in Stockholm; I make no apologies for liking Abba as I consider their treatment of the three-minute pop song to be nothing short of genius, however I would like to apologise to my fellow travellers on the tram to Bury for my inadvertent and somewhat epileptical seated-dancing and unfortunate warbling, the latter no matter how sotto voce ! Similarly, on the return leg as I zoomed through twilight Salford, I was appropriately accompanied by the lugubrious but always cheekily winking tones of Sheila taking a bow and booting the grime of this world in the crotch, dear! One can see how someone so young, at the time, could write words so sad amidst the always somewhat squalid Salfordian environs . . .
The concept of listening to music whilst travelling is a relatively new one to yours truly; although in a previous life time I was a musician I find that, these days, reading and writing ( and even 'rithmatic!) has taken over as my main leisure time activities, however on the train I find other peoples conversations intrude too much and so I normally zone out and simply watch the miles go by . . .
The evening passed in a blur - not the musical group I hasten to add - and suddenly it is now and Saturday awaits! Today sees a small amount of last minute shopping to ensure my guest's needs and desires are fulfilled and then it's over to the stately pile for an afternoon with the Old Duchess and Sister Cate . . . this year we are significantly late in taking down the OD's Christmas tree and so that will be one among many of today's tasks . . . tasks which will, it seems, be carried out in somewhat damp conditions if the evidence of my eyes is to be believed; the library windows are streaked with rain and the street lights bubble and melt like gold in the alchemists alembic . . . let us hope that from such humble and drab ingredients we are able to distill a Chrysopoeia worthy of our efforts!
And with those words I should be about my business; the dawn is still lounging in bed, unwilling to de-duvet itself in the name of organisational efficiency and I, for one, can understand its reluctance as I too could cheerfully climb back into my hammock and snooze a while . . . but time, tide and the OD wait for no man and so . . .
'til next time
Be Seeing You !