Going home

Cycling back in the mist after the concert conducted by our young prodigy. We were good, he was superb. The soloists were behind him facing the audience and weren't able to see his beat, so he had to take their timing and transmit it to the orchestra and choir. At times he was grinning with elation, quite like me aged 16, I suspect, when I was asked if I'd like to drive a tractor in a very large field. You bet! All that power! All mine! Except that he was considerably more skilled than I was.