Yesterday was one of those days that comes around only infrequently, stuffed with adventure and delight from the moment I tumbled out of bed at 6 to the moment I tumbled back in many hours later. I love days like this, even though I usually need time to recover.
My early morning drive to London was nearly scuppered by the realisation – too late – that I was driving towards solstice Stonehenge. Thankfully all the folks who had turned up to watch the sunrise on their mobile phones had more or less headed off to Glastonbury by the time I drove through, although the stones looked particularly beautiful in the morning sun, and the quizzical traffic clearly agreed.
So I headed into north London for a preliminary meeting with a new acquaintance about some work, and it went pretty well. This is the kind of area to which I can bring all my weaponry to bear – arranging, composing, transcribing, even drumming and bass playing through all those years in all those bands. The meeting went well, and there is more to come.
Then it was into town to direct the music for a high profile funeral at Mabbots, with a choir of eight singers providing wonderful and nuanced performances of the pieces. I felt that this was a real tour de force, especially in the sweltering heat under cassocks and surplices, and, my goodness, they did the departed proud.
The umpteenth tube journey of the day, bakingly hot, brought me back to my car, and I dropped the roof once off the M3 and breezed my way to Wells and then home, doing some networking with the proper folks down these parts. For a treat, at the very end of the day I broke open one of my sealed board games for review, a little cardboard therapy.
As the mist descended over darkened Shepton there may have been some red wine to hand as well, a good end to the longest day, and having made use of every single minute. I love days like this.