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The Opera Show at Kilworth House took place in the open air on a September evening which mercifully remained dry, and didn't require the precautions against the cold which most of those attending had taken. The programme included many of the best known operatic arias - including two which had a special resonance for me: 'Largo al factotum' and 'Bacarolle'. 'Nessun Dorma' as the finale was, perhaps, predictable.
The excellent singing was accompanied by an imaginative light show and less imaginative dancing. But, then, ballet never was my thing.
A week later, Symphony Hall was host to a Brass Gala Concert given by the Grimethorpe, Corey, and Black Dyke Brass Bands. These famous names are no longer associated with industries which gave them birth. The concert started promisingly with 'Londonderry Air', but soon descended into a display of virtuosity through pieces that were appreciated only by the considerable number of aficionados in the audience, most of whom had attended the previous day's Brass Band Open Championship. There were, nonetheless, occasional highlights for us lesser mortals: 'Abide with me' which, even its conductor admitted, can be a challenge when played properly; 20 trumpeters from two bands playing a Harry James number; and, as a grand finale by two bands, 'The Lost Chord'. But I won't be going again.
The all too brief Indian summer enabled me to start enjoying the fruits of my gardening labours, now almost complete. This took the form of sitting on my upper terrace, reading an excellent historical novel by Robert Harris entitled 'Pompeii'. It had been recommended by fellow ramblers during a walking holiday in the area last autumn. They also recommended his Cicero trilogy, and the Falco series by Lyndsey Davis, now purchased but yet to be enjoyed.
An approaching re-union, at which I hope to sell copies, has engendered a sense of urgency about completing the proof reading of volume III of my memoirs. For this I have found it necessary to rely on others because it seems to be quite impossible to detect errors in something you have written and read several times yourself, and viewed on a computer screen. Some persist even in the hard copy. Its title? Through the Woodsmoke'.
The shadow of illness has fallen across two of my dearest cousins, sisters. More detailed tests indicate that one is less serious than the other, though both will require surgery, for which the outlook is hopeful - but then surgeons always are optimistic. What was noticeable was the time it took to see a specialist - ten weeks in one case.