Saturday 10 June 2006

I'm swinging in the hammock in the back garden, just back from being a (fidgety) audient at a concert at the university, with Alan Hacker playing clarinet quintets by Bill Sweeney and Harrison Birtwistle. I would have liked to stay and talk to him for a bit but I find the 'dressing room crush' after concerts really uncomfortable, so I didn't manage more than a quick hello after Mark Bailey invited me backstage. I prefer to keep the dressing room space private myself - if people want to talk to me after a concert they can damn well wait for me to come out. Alan is a true musical hero of mine but I'm too embarrassed to tell him so to his face.

Dave Bradley's funeral yesterday was memorable for all the right reasons. The singing was spine-tingling, as Dave's son Davoc led us in a rendition of In Beulah Land that was in the spirit of Dave's 'volume turned up to 11' vocal power: celebratory and defiant. We all respected his wish and took turns to go up and knock on his coffin to say hello and goodbye. Funerals are very good at spurring you on to find inspiration from another's life and keep alive their best qualities. It was an emotional occasion, but also one with lots of broad grinning and laughter: I sat there thinking 'wouldn't it be great to go out like that?'