Let the good times roll

On my way out to town this morning I noticed the first hedgerow blossom of the year; and this afternoon, having decided that a 30mph wind was not likely to be conducive to the owls leaving their roosts, I climbed up the bank and snapped a large number of mostly useless shots of it blowing around in the gale. By the time I thought I had a few that were in focus I was covered in cherry plum blossom, and would have looked positively bridal but for the jeans, boots, ski jacket, and ferocious scowl. The fact that I blipped the blossom on this same tree on January 12th last year is further evidence of how late this spring is in getting going - and the Siberian weather forecast for the rest of this week isn't likely to help much.

We're now in the pre-performance week of choir rehearsals, and this evening's was a longer one than usual, and quite tiring. I'm still not properly on top of the Duruflé, but unexpectedly tonight found myself standing next to someone who is; she may be surprised to discover that we're shackled together from now until Saturday evening, but she seems very polite, so she'll probably pretend not to notice. These days I'm rarely nervous before a concert, but I'm quite edgy about this one - not least because of a fear that we may have been concentrating too much on practising the Duruflé, and that on the night the Fauré could turn round and bite us in retaliation.

I'm clearly still a little below par, and I'm probably over-thinking everything. Spring is on the way, and this time next week the concert will have happened, and it's unlikely that anyone's reputation will have been ruined by it. And (although I should really be humming Duruflé of course), the tune I can't get out of my head right now is this - which I hereby declare to be the thought for the week.