This morning was a contrast of brilliant sunshine and bitterly cold winds. The ice made a feather and fan pattern on the Toy's windows before I scraped it off. At 7.30am, the weather bulletin report the temperature as -2C in Central London. They don't quote wind-chill here but I reckon it's effect is to drop the temperature by at least another 5 degrees.
It's days like these when you remember that Britain is an island and nowhere is more than fifty miles from the sea. The air is damp, driving the cold right through you. It's a windswept island, too, with icy air blowing in from the Atlantic.
The sunlight is deceptive. There is some warmth in it, but not enough to heat the air. You can only feel it if you are out of the wind. And yet, at every opportunity, I turn my face to greet the sun. If this was ancient Greece, then I would worship Apollo. As an Australian, I am a child of the sun. My earliest memories are of long, hot summer days.
Today I understand all those ancient ceremonies to welcome the return of Spring.
Another economists joke:
Is there any other profession where you can be wrong most of the time, but still be considered an expert?
Tonight, the choir started rehearsing for our next concert on 22nd May. Our conductor's verdict on the African Sanctus is that it was too loud (David Fanshawe got a bit too carried away with playing with the levels). However, he was really, really pleased with our performance, particularly as we caught up when the Soprano Soloist skipped a page!
Probably the next choir priority is finding a bigger local venue (something I mentioned at last AGM). We turned away 40 people on Saturday night and could easily have sold 500 tickets instead of the 350 that is the church's capacity. Our next concert will be in a much larger venue, the Cadogan Hall in Chelsea, which seats 700. It is, however, a much more expensive venue, so we can only afford it once a year.