Tuesday, 25 January 2011


I have very little to report. I’ve spent the day doing next to nothing. I’ve been to the gym and done various bits of admin, some composing, and a few arrangements, but it’s genuinely been one of the least interesting days of my life!

I continue to worry about my voice. All these pills from the doctor don’t seem to be making any difference at all, and earlier, when I was singing, the notes kept cutting out on me. Afterwards, my throat felt really tired, like I’d been yelling continually for hour. If all this is not a result of acid reflux, the alternatives start to get a tad worrying. It could be nodules, I suppose, which is bad enough, but my subconscious is doing cartwheels at the moment, thinking about my cousin, who is just getting over throat cancer. I am, however, a known hypochondriac. Those who know me well will be reading this with smiles on their faces. I even told a doctor once that I was a hypochondriac, and he wrote it on my notes, which is probably not the best thing to have written on your records!

I'm frantically thinking of something more interesting to write, but the truth is that Nathan has come home early from work, and I’d actually quite like to go for an evening stroll, so I’m going to be lazy and not talk about Russian terrorism, or the double-dip recession we’ve just entered into, or any of the other things that are milling around in the back of my mind as possible things to write about.

I leave you with astonishing footage of a multi-instrumentalist virtuoso, which was sent to me today. What on earth is this woman on?! And can I have some, please?

Pepys wasn’t having a particularly interesting day, 350 years ago, either. He met an artist called Mr Salisbury who specialised in painting miniature portraits, which Pepys described as “perfect.” And took delivery of a pair of cages for some canaries, which had been sent to him by one Captain Rooth. Pepys’ house, no doubt, was beginning to resemble a menagerie. Cats, monkeys, song birds, canaries, a mouse infestation, an incontinent dog... whatever next?

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