I’m composing faster than ever before. In fact, I’m actually composing slightly faster than I’m physically able to write at the moment, frustrated by the speed of my music writing software. For the first time in my life, I’m beginning to think the story of Mozart writing a bar of music as he bounced a ball around a snooker table is not that far-fetched; other than that I don’t believe they had snooker in 18th Century Austria. Today, I fully scored a 2 minute section of music in under an hour. Not quite Mozart, but a machine by my slow standards. I've always considered myself to be something of a plodder; my creativity has hitherto always been the product of incredibly hard work rather than natural talent. The rush of creativity and adrenaline has come because I’m aware that my deadline for the Fleet Singers composition is literally just around the corner. I don't want to overrun because May is all about the London Requiem.
At about 4pm, today, just as I reached a sort of unstoppable Zen-like state, Nathan decided that he needed to go into Islington to visit Loop, the wool shop. It was painfully obvious that I needed to go with him to clear my head and to stop the smell of burning brain matter that was beginning to seep from my ears.
We met Fiona, who’s in London for a few days, at the end of Camden Passage. It was raining horribly – and then the sun came out again. In fact, this entire month has had rather typical April weather for the first time in years. You used to be able to set your watch by April showers.
Nathan popped into a pub on the way to the wool shop to go to the loo, and came out laughing hysterically at some of the inventive graffiti which he’d found written on the walls there. Two of the comments were particularly amusing;
“Your Mum’s a dinner lady” and “Alex is a Jesuit.” Why use puerile four-letter words when you can insult someone so humorously?
350 years ago, Pepys went to visit Mr Hollier, the surgeon, to have some blood let. Fortunately, for those with a squeamish disposition, Mr Hollier was out. I don’t even want to think about blood-letting practises in 17th Century London. I can’t think it was the most sensible thing to do.
In the evening, news came that the Duke Of York had permitted the owners of the houses in the Navy Office quarter to raise their buildings by an extra floor. Pepys was still on his way up!