The Troublesome Balty

We’re stuck in a dreadful traffic jam in Hackney on our way to Julie’s house. Despite the traffic, I’m feeling celebratory. This is definitely the first day of spring. There’s warmth and optimism in the sun and most people seem to be wearing little light jackets rather than big dark coats buttoned up to their eyeballs. I’m also celebrating a rather important milestone. I’ve just finished the sixth movement of the Pepys Motet, which means I’ve now completed the first draft of the entire work. Tomorrow I’ll start at the beginning again and work my way through the piece with a fine-tooth comb; thinning out the orchestrations, and cutting at least five minutes. It’s officially the longest work I’ve ever written and it's certainly the most complicated...


We met up with Fiona last night and ate at Stingray in Tufnell Park. Lovely cheap food, particularly the potato skins, although it’s now officially over for me and the Spaghetti El Greco which seemed particularly insipid last night.

On our way home, we took a detour via Hampstead Heath and went for a wonderful walk in the cool night air. The sky was that familiar milky orange colour, although there seemed to be a convenient gap in the cloud just big enough for us to see the Big Dipper. We walked through the fair, which was being packed up on the Western fringes of the park. Piles of miserable cuddly toys were face down in the mud, waiting to be thrown mercilessly onto passing trucks and brightly coloured flashing bulbs seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. I was hoping to find a toffee apple, but I’m not sure those things exist anymore.

As we staggered along the dark network of pathways which criss-cross the heath, stealth joggers appeared and disappeared again, reminding Fiona and me of a day one October when we crossed the heath and every little dell in the ground was filled to the brim with mist which swirled around our feet like dry ice. Fiona was really freaked out that night. She kept seeing ghostly white figures drifting around in the corners of her eyes. The Heath is such a magical, haunting place.

Fiona left again today for the next leg of her Placebo World Tour. This time she’s off to South America to catch tantalising glimpses of unknown countries through the windows of various tour busses and aeroplanes. I shall miss her.

350 years ago, Pepys was joined on board the Nazeby by his brother-in-law, the troublesome Balty. Balty was something of a maverick and for much of Pepys’ life was a bit of a millstone around his neck, constantly pushing for outrageous favours, using his family connections almost as a threat. Today was no different. He’d decided he wanted join the Nazeby’s crew and Pepys was horrified.

Later in the day, there was still no news from Pepys’ assistant, Burr and the boat crept its way a little further down the Thames. Pepys and William Howe found a quiet corner and played their violins (as you do) the first time, apparently, since they’d come on board, for which I’m sure the crew were very grateful! The evening was spent upon the quarterdeck in fine moonshine with Mr Cuttance who taught Pepys many sea-faring terms; Pepys as ever has an almost unslakable desire to learn!