liadnan

Went to a brilliant performance of Elgar's (after Newman's) Dream of Gerontius at Westminster Cathedral (it's the centenary of both the piece and the place, it's an appropriate work for the place, and the first London performance of the one was at the other, hence the occasion). I know lots of Cathedral people, particularly the musicians, but also through my somewhat lapsed and semi-agnostic Catholicism, and I also know quite a few people in the Bach Choir (including one person in particular I don't see nearly as much of as I'd like, though having said that the amount I'd like to see of her belongs after the watershed if I'm honest...) so it was kind of incumbent upon me to go, but well worth the effort. HRH Bigears was in attendance, as were assorted various nobs, but I managed to find a decent seat, and the acoustic in the building is fantastic, for that kind of work. The result is, though, that I am absolutely knackered (that is, even more absolutely knackered than a busy junior barrister normally is on a Friday). I'd persuaded the APs to come up to hear it, so I had to escort them to Waterloo on the way back, and it was gone 11 and I hadn't eaten when I finally made it home.

Watched the John Snow thing on reporting the war. Extremely disturbing on the manipulation of the press (during rather than before the war that is).

Oooh, lunchtime.