Flying high

We’re still looking for a name for the choir I’ve formed. Various people are grabbed by various options, but I’m not sure that enough people have been grabbed by a single suggestion. The Hellfire Club has proved fairly popular – named after those 18^th Century naughty boys. I guess there’s nothing wrong with a bit of moral turpitude, but I don’t want to offend anyone. Another recent suggestion is “The Orphic Cubes”, named after the early 20^th Century Art movement, Orphic Cubism. I like the idea of anything with “cube” in it because it sort of implies 4x4, which is the number of singers in the group. Nathan of course tells me that this theory makes no mathematical sense whatsoever! Any adjective that relates to Orpheus brings with it am obvious sense of the mystique and the afterlife, and this, of course, works well for the Requiem. One of the dictionary definitions of orphic is, “that which is capable of casting a charm or spell; entrancing.” I  obviously like this very much. I also quite like “The Omega Workshop”, which was the commercial arm of the Bloomsbury Group. The more I think about it, the more I like this particular name, because it comes with branding opportunities. The Greek letter omega looks like an O when it's capitalised, but like a W when it's in small case. O. W. Omega Workshop...

Today wasn’t quite as relaxed as I was hoping it would be. I wanted to do a day’s work, rather calmly and quietly in the cafe, but there were suddenly hundreds of things that needed to be organised. I’m off to York tomorrow and then straight to Cork in Ireland, via Doncaster, Peterborough, Cambridge and Thaxted – and every aspect of the weekend has required careful planning regarding train tickets, and timings. We’re flying to Cork with the hideous Ryan Air and are trying not to pay the ridiculous amount of money they charge for suitcases these days. You’re allowed to take one bag with you as hand luggage, but its dimensions can’t exceed 55cmx40cmx20cm. Everything needs to go inside this minuscule space, including cameras. I’ve just measured my little rucksack, which seems to be 5 centimetres too long... but surely that’s okay? I can’t fit my camera in my laptop bag – or, for that matter, a couple of pairs of pants, a toothbrush, some deodorant and a T-shirt. I can’t believe I’ve actually just measured my rucksack!

350 years ago Pepys spent the much of the day convalescing, a process which no doubt involved pouring various lotions and potions onto his balls. Pepys was also greatly offended by his clerk, Will Hewer, who was wandering around the house wearing his hat, which was, apparently an indication of pride and an over-inflated sense of his own importance.

PS - I have just set fire to my iron. Or rather, my iron has just set fire to itself. I plugged it in, it made lots of weird clicking sounds, and then thick, acrid smoke filled the kitchen. The smoke has now drifted through the entire flat, and the whole place stinks of melted plastic. What a nightmare! Now I don't have any clothes to wear tomorrow!

PPS - Tyne and Wear Metro: The Musical has just won silver at this year's Gillard Awards (hurrah!), which very much makes up for the fact that The Pepys Motet was over-looked in yesterday's nominations for the British Composers' Awards!