Fiddler's Dram

I finished reading ‘The Grass Harp’ by Truman Capote this morning. I wanted it to go on forever, but like all good things…

The day was overcast and chilly but indoors it was all toasty so I spent the whole morning and afternoon writing, without having to do star jumps every ten minutes to keep warm.

In the evening I had been invited to L’Enfance de Lard to make up the numbers for a music evening. Don’t panic, I didn’t get out my penny whistle. I was seated at my usual corner table, armed with yesterday’s Sunday Times and a large gin and tonic. The musicians, a violinist and a cellist played before dinner, between the starter and main course and then after dessert and coffee. The acoustics in the restaurant suited the instruments (which were both antique – of course) superbly and I felt very privileged to be there listening to, amongst others, pieces by Haydn, Bach and a short piece by Tchaikovsky called ‘Old French Song’ which I recognised instantly as it is one of the only pieces of music I can play confidently on the piano. They played ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ especially for me (yes, I know) and Danny Boy at the end, for Michael. It goes without saying that the food was delicious too, but I will say it dammit - smoked salmon with endives, roast beef (as rare as you like) with pasta and cepes and a delicious slice of tart; Bergerac red to complement.

At the end of the evening I was given a brief demonstration of why women like to play the cello. Let me just say good vibrations and leave it there.