Saturday 16 February 2002

It's been a week mostly of writing to people and filling in forms: the forms were our annual application to the Scottish Arts Council for the money that pays Marie and subsidises our fee to promoters, and the other letters were to various possible collaborators in the year ahead: musical institutions, record companies, and some talented individuals on our doorstep.  I hate making initial approaches to people, and always start looking for anything to do that will put off the sitting down and writing of the letter/email/fax.  I revisited my musical roots by playing the piano along with some old records, and even dusted the piano and hoovered under the gas fire in my study on Tuesday.  Once I've got into 'action' mode I find it impossible to sit still and think - it's unfortunate that I can't write and walk at the same time, as I've always found it easier to develop ideas walking rather than sitting down.  But eventually I got it all done (finished at 10.30 this morning), and I've had a few responses already, some of them very favourable.

On Tuesday Marie came over and we worked on concert programmes and budgets for a few hours, with a break during which I cooked lunch, to her enormous surprise - Marie's a very fine cook, and I was a bit embarrassed to be seen for the klutz that I am in the kitchen.  I may have overdone the chili in the fried rice as well.  Katherine came for a day's rehearsal of viola d'amore hits on Thursday: step forward Herr Hindemith and M. Mélandre and take a bow for writing for this strange instrument with some skill.  We're playing at the Harlow Viola Festival next weekend - well, where else would you hear a viola d'amore recital?

And today is my birthday, with a splendid crop of presents from my family including an original Magical Mystery Tour booklet with the two mono 45s in it.  I've always loved that little post-Sgt Pepper psychedelic splurge that the Beatles had before it all started to fall apart.  And when I was small, we had a copy of the booklet lying around in the house - the records were long gone of course - so I knew all the words to I am the Walrus about 10 years before I ever heard it.  I got some great Angela Anaconda fridge magnets as well.

So now I'm half way through my allotted three score years and ten, and what have I learnt?  That life is generally arbitrary and stupid, and in need of a policy of continuous improvement.  Not much else.