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A wonderful performance of The Lord Is My Light this morning, spacious and beautifully held, has capped off a positive week and a bit.  Objectively this has been a fantastic few days, full of promise and publicity, but a couple of competition rejections mid-week has made me just a little pensive.  One of these was a proposal for a children’s opera, but at least my outline was described by the jury as “charming”, and I take some comfort from that.  Hopefully somewhere, some day, someone might commission me for just such a work, at which point I will have a story ready to go.

I am also a trifle disappointed in myself for having been persuaded, against my better judgement, I must admit, to do something I did not particularly want to do.  In the end the venture was fine as far as it went, but it rammed home the point that I have a pretty sharp idea of what I should be doing and, more importantly, why.  I take it as a lesson learned.

It has also been a little tricky to get any writing done this week, for the Anghiari juggernaut has begun to gather steam.  Introductions have expanded into introductions, rehearsals, arrangements, surtitles and various other niceties, and I really need to get these out of the way as soon as possible, both to be able to have some breathing time during the Festival and to be able to get back to my writing.  I am fully ready and prepared to dive back into both the string piece and the Exeter work, and, if I can keep to schedule, will be able to do that in quiet moments during the coming week.  Both pieces are substantially ahead of where they need to be, but I do want to keep up the momentum on both, ideally have them finished by the end of the month.  It will also give me more than enough space to let both pieces simmer and come back to them away from the furnace of composition, the better to revise them.

At last this week my new bathroom has also been finished.  Well, nearly, for my builder has displayed his constructional DNA by disappearing with the details still to be fixed, making this composer rather unhappy in the process.  Still, the new layout and decor mark a substantial, nay, spectacular change from what was there previously, and must surely have added to the value of O’Neill Towers.

I have been keeping a weather eye on tyre-shredding events in Northampton this weekend, at the British GP, but I have been more and more diverted by antics at the MotoGP over recent months.  Apart from being quite certifiably nuts, these riders seem so much more normal, perversely, than their four-wheeled counterparts.  I once hankered after something two-wheeled and powerful, but the realisation that I only needed to come off once to do myself serious damage, allied with a job-related need to try to keep my limbs intact, has made me make sure that all my current vehicular activities are in modes of transport which have corners.  I had to doff my proverbial cap, though, to Jorge Lorenzo, for showing what real sportsmen are made of this weekend.  This man broke his collarbone in a 120mph crash on Thursday, had a titanium plate and eight screws fitted on Friday, and saw fit to race on Saturday, finishing fifth.  They do say that if the horse throws you off you should simply get back on, but this is taking it to a whole new level.

This is going to hurt a lot.