The need for a change of scene.
My smoking is confined to about a dozen Havana cigars a year. And I know how terribly bad smoking is for our well-being. But sometimes I wonder whether the laws on the sale of cigarettes are a bit extreme. The latest rules do not allow the display of cigarettes on shelves behind the counter in supermarkets. In Sainsbury's sliding doors hide the foul things from greedy eyes. If you want to buy some the assistant draws back the door and selects your purchase before quickly closing it again. Standing behind a cigarette buyer in the queue today I can't help seeing the rows of packets lined up on display when for a moment the door is opened. Reader, my frame is shaken with a hideous trembling. I break out in a cold sweat. Is it excitement or horror? You must judge for yourself.
My friend who used to call himself Lorenzo da Ponte and now goes under the name of Roderick Robinson (based on a little known, eponymous 18th Century novel?) delivers a blog called Tone Deaf, which in its original form directly addressed most of my problems with music. He has now strayed from his original path into more open country. And I don't blame him but I miss the original scenery. I like music. My tastes are catholic, perhaps too catholic. And because I have no confidence in them I am reluctant to talk about what I like or to make recommendations, as I would in matters of literature, painting or sculpture. Today I resolve that from now on I will indulge myself with what I like to listen to and neglect anything which has an "ought" or a "should" linked to it. So I lean against the radiator and listen to Pomp and Circumstance No 1 followed by Pomp and Circumstance No 4.and quite involuntarily waive my arms around like a conductor. Next for want of contrast I switch to the Dave Brubeck Quartet with Take Five.