Into July we go, half the year done and half to go until I retreat to the rural wilds for a bit and go quiet. It is also the month of the Anghiari Festival, so it is time to get cracking on the introductions and do all that lovely listening of inspiring new repertoire as well as revisiting old favourites.
Apart from the drama of one of the cars in the neighbourhood going up in flames on Thursday night, said vehicle belonging to the local purveyor of illicit substances, said fire therefore on the suspicious side, it has been a fairly quiet weekend made up of the usual things. I added some more notes to the Dunstan cantata, tinkered a little more with entries for the book, and sheltered from the sun when possible.
When the wind was in the right direction we could also hear the distant thunkathunka from the Glastonbury Festival because, as we know in our part of the world, Shepton is actually the nearest town to the site, even if the name is less glamorous. The celebs flew in overhead by helicopter and the traffic was well managed, the local supermarket responding to the occasion by giving out free tasters of the local cider, of course.
I also received a couple of intriguing offers of work, offers that I had to turn down but which held out the possibilities of new avenues to be explored. Maybe next time, I told myself.
This week I hope to get the book and the Anghiari introductions finished, because it is more or less time to shift up a gear in terms of work on the cantata. It is still running to schedule, but I think that I would like to forge ahead and make sure that there as few distractions as possible for next week and beyond.