Wot a scorcher, as The Sun would say. It was 31C here today, a little hot even in the shade. We were trying to entertain Adam in the coolest part of the garden, but it was difficult. I have been clearing away after yesterday’s party. Not that I did much of the catering, everyone was very generous, but it is all the big dishes, extra wine glasses, additional cutlery, which comes out when you have 12 adults and 10 children! Anyway, ’tis all done and tidy.
I lay in the shade this afternoon and looked in desultory fashion at the paper. Pingdemic seems to be the buzz word. Thank goodness I never downloaded the NHS app, and those who have are deleting it fast. Seems totally chaotic. I think the cat has the best idea: lie in the shade and pretend nothing is happening. Ideal. I have been watering everything as it has all dried out again. I picked more raspberries and have started some raspberry vodka. When that and the rhubarb gin are ready, it’s all round here for party time!
I do intend to make tomorrow my last blog entry, though it has been part of my life for 16 months and I do suspect that lockdown may return, in which case I may do too. But making a break is probably good. I feel I may be running out of ideas, and you, dear readers, out of enthusiasm for following. Let’s see.
If I had to take the works of any one composer to a desert island, I think it would be Mozart. Such a talent. Symphonies, concertos, piano music, opera, and the requiem. I once sang in the requiem from scratch in the Royal Albert Hall. It brings tears to my eyes to recall it. It was the most tremendous and most moving experience. This is Bernstein at a cracking pace.