Monday 7 November 2011

I see the autumn rain

Ah! Columbia Road on a misty, murky Autumnal evening. There's something highly atmospheric about the East End of London on evenings like this. I wasn't at all surprised to find a film crew shooting a period drama when I emerged from the end of Philippa's street earlier. I've filmed on Columbia Road. It feels timeless. 

I've had a lovely day. It was a deliberate attempt at something resembling a weekend, because I worked so hard over the last couple of days. 

The day started with a rehearsal in Crouch End for my concert on the 27th. It didn't feel like work. We were with the wonderful actress, Sara Kestelman. She's joining Nathan on stage to sing a song I wrote called The Morning Always Comes. The piece is really about moving on in life, but has very sad connotations for us all, being one of the songs chosen for the memorial concert of our good friend, Kevin. Sara and Nathan sang it on that occasion as well, and as they remembered their way through the song, I very much felt the ghost of Kev was with us. He always used to do impressions of Sara's unfeasibly low voice singing the song, and I heard him again this morning. 

The rest of the day was spent with Philippa, Deia, Gob and Kate. God-daughter, Deia, was in a singular mood, and she tied me to door handles on two occasions before pointing at me and mockingly saying "silly Uncle Benjy!" She's also started doing impressions of a local man who can only say "uh-uh."

It was Kate's birthday last week, and Philippa had made an enormous three-tiered cake out of beetroot. I was slightly confused as to why it wasn't bright red, but it tasted very good. 

350 years ago, Pepys was visited by a musician called Roger Hill, who'd been engaged to give him lessons on the theorbo. Sadly, Pepys wasn't at all impressed by either his singing or his playing, so found an excuse to send him on his way. 

He received a letter from his patron, Lord Sandwich, who was still in Lisbon making arrangements for the future queen of England's journey to London. He wrote about the Portuguese court, and Pepys was fascinated to read of a bull fight, or Juego de Toro, which Sandwich had been invited to attend. 

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