Cock

I woke up this morning to find Highgate sitting in a pool of the most beautiful sunshine. I say a pool, because the news was filled with stories about the heavy mists across London. The roving weather girl was in Kew Gardens and you could barely see her for the fog. She’s a funny girl, that weather girl. She takes a very audible gulp of air before every sentence and always makes me want to hold my throat. Anyway, the rather peculiar weather was creating traffic chaos all over the place, including locations less than 400 meters from where our house is. It was very confusing to look out of the window and see nothing but sunshine.

I left the house and immediately saw that the mist was moving incredibly quickly and I’d been engulfed by the time I reached Highgate Village. It was cold and, to quote Topsy and Tim, “it smelt like old ashtrays.”

Rehearsals for me today started at 10am in Kilburn (with two sopranos) and then continued throughout the day back in Highgate. There were one-on-ones, duets, quartets, and then, at the end of the very long day, a full choir rehearsal. At some point I even managed to feed everyone. I’m not sure how. I ran about like a mad thing, adrenaline pumping through my body for most of the day. I now stink – and my head is kind of spinning. I don’t know if I’ve dedicated enough rehearsal time to everything. I don’t know what sounds good. I don’t know what’s ready. I don’t know if the music I’ve written is any good. I’m absolutely full to bursting and just want to go to bed and sleep forever!

350 years ago, Pepys went to see an artist by the name of Mr Savill (I’ll call him Jimmy.) Pepys wanted to commission him to paint a portrait of himself and his wife. In the evening, various people called Sir William (and someone called Captain Cock) appeared in the house to drink, eat and play cards. Captain Cock! Tee hee...