Unusually, every morning this week, not only have I been up before the Sage, but out of the house before he’s even come downstairs. He’s usually a fairly early riser, but he has been very busy recently and we’ve both slept heavily. Slightly cooler nights have helped in this respect, but I have woken before the alarm (which was set for between 5 or 6 o’clock) every day.
This afternoon, it caught up with me. I worked for Al between 8.30 and 1.30, came home, caught up on emails and blogs, then curled up in an armchair and slept for more than an hour. I feel a bit spaced out and distant just now.
This evening, Ro and I will be paying our last visit to this year’s Aldeburgh Festival. Gerald Barry (a piece written in 2005), Mozart, Britten and Beethoven. Should be good.
Snape is a fabulous venue and I’m lucky to live just 25 miles away, within 40 minutes drive. And the tickets are so reasonable. Mine was £12 and Ro’s was only £6, because under-27s get in half price (not many of them at the concerts I’ve been to nonetheless). These were the cheapest prices, but having tried sitting in all parts of the concert hall over a number of years, I concluded that there is no such thing as a bad seat.
We’ll have supper there first, the Sage is being abandoned to his fate, which might be last night’s roast chicken with salad, or might be fish and chips, whichever he fancies. Ah. I’ve asked. He said he has “bought himself a little piece of meat.” No need to ask more.
Life of luxury around here. Even the expected rain didn’t happen. I shall go and dress in understated elegance* and put on a quietly flashy ring.
*Yay! It works! Thank you, Wendz, darling. Isn’t she clever?