I wrote to the record company on Wednesday about the whole Flyht thing and, to their credit, received a very swift reply on Thursday morning. They were, they said, extremely surprised to receive my email given that they had been assured by the choir that I would be contacted to make sure that removing Flyht from the CD would be fine.

I doubt that it would have been fine, to be honest, which is possibly why the choir did not get in touch, but the email also stated that it was the choir who asked for the works to be changed on the reissue of the disc. The thing is that the message I received from the choir representative implied that the whole thing was the record label’s idea.

All of this leaves me precisely no further than where I was on Wednesday afternoon, that somebody, possibly everybody, made and approved the decision to remove Flyht from new issue of the disc and, worse still (for me), to replace it with another work. It is all pretty depressing stuff, Sisyphean in its outline, especially as the piece was, of course, written for the 700th anniversary of Exeter College, whose choir recorded the CD as part of the celebrations.

Whatever. For all the explanations and everything else this still comes across to me as a distinctly tawdry affair, and feels like a suckerpunch right to the compositional solar plexus. Some of the language in this and yesterday’s entry might feel a little strong, but trust me that it is merely a pale imitation of what has been reverberating around Somerset these past days, and that it will take a while for me to get past this.

Composition is not measured in time or weight, but instead it slips through the fingers and ebbs and flows in its perception. A composer, ultimately, is the sum of his or her achievements, normally acquired through hard work, dedication and sacrifice, and at a geologically slow pace to boot. I do not intend to write any music today, maybe not tomorrow either, and will instead divert my attention elsewhere. I feel in some way as if the heart has been ripped out of my writing, and the sooner I can forget about this whole thing and find the motivation to carry on the better.