I had a rough old day yesterday, despite have got off to a pretty positive start with my early rise and hugely productive morning.  I arranged, wrote some programme notes, did technical exercises and a tiny bit of sketching, and then the wobbles came in.

I think I heard or read once that a proper period of mourning should be a year and a day.  Maybe I remember it wrongly, but I have always thought to be an eminently sensible way of doing things, rather than the modern way of patting somebody on the shoulder when they return to work after a couple of weeks and assuming that they have moved on.

While people may do very well, it is hard not to think “A year ago…”, and, personally, a year ago I was between the last time of seeing my father and his death, and was wondering whether he would cling on until I was able to get out to France again.  In the end he did not, but I have been pretty much at peace with the way things played out.

Yesterday, however, something triggered what had clearly been building up inside me, and I thought a lot of Nick Gale, Giles Pilgrim Morris, my father and others, yes, even Joey my cat.  In the end we abandoned plans to do grown up things, invested in a takeaway curry and some wine and played board games until late at night, so no early start for me today.

Something is stirring musically in the back of my head as well, something linked to all of this, and while I cannot quite see what it is yet, I have my suspicions about how it could develop.  Yesterday’s tiny bit of sketching will carry on today, together with my other musical touchstones, and on until either this latest idea turns into something concrete or fades into the ether.