Three gentle tasks for an Autumn Sunday.
They had to be gentle because I am suffering a horrible bout of food poisoning and my poor kidneys are as exhausted by it as Julian’s back is from smashing down the kitchen he never finished a year ago in preparation for the more upmarket version we can now contemplate and which involves a washing machine. (Hooray!).
Task Number One:
Was to deal with the big brown packet from the Prince of Chimay.
Next week, while my colleagues are off on a tour of South America, I am off a Belgian castle to play continuo cello for the International Baroque Singing Competition. A little preparation is needed, especially since I am to be the personal guest of the Prince and Princess and I’m sure I’ll want to hang out as much as possible.
I made a start by taking the orange glo-pen to the enormous packet of music submitted by the candidates, highlighting the bass line throughout. (This is so that I do not skip to the wrong stave and lurch immodestly into the melody prepared with such diligence by the singer.) Sitting with the autumn sun warming my calves, I leafed through the paper goodies, getting a sense of them like feeling the shape of presents under a tree:
‘Horace and His Lute’
‘If Music Be The Food of Love’
‘Ego Flos Campis’……………
(I marked a question mark by some of them, like the medieval one with no notes. Not sure how to play that, so I’ll know to ask when I arrive.)
Task (well, hardly a task) Number Two:
Was to go for a run, but jiggling my already unsettled insides around on stony paths was not an option, so I went for a walk instead. To my delight, my husband came with me. Not one to be lured off the path or the pace (got to get that heart rate up), I usually resist Julian’s forays into the woods to look for mushrooms, but today I was feeling meditative. We found ourselves in a dappled fairy glen of lit up oak leaves, russulas and boletes, and strangely curling lichen which read like a Farrow and Ball colour chart:
Vert de Terre
Task Number Three
Was to round the house with the sun, set out twelve espresso cups in preparation for sanding the edges and painting gesso on to Julian’s postcard-sized boards. As I applied the delectable substance to smooth surfaces and rounded corners, the sun now beating the back of my neck with it’s three o’clock insistence, I concentrated on making them fit for the finest pomegranate before setting them out to dry on the cups.
A nice autumn Sunday.
Now it’s time to light the fire.