In a couple of weeks, five of us girls are heading to Barcelona for a weekend to celebrate a friend’s 40th birthday. To be honest, I really didn’t think this would happen at all, given their husbands’ and kids’ schedules but it’s all been bought and paid for. We’re actually going!
A couple of weeks ago my friend Kiran wrote a post on her blog about my sister and I, and our blogs.
Isn’t it funny how some dreams stay with you long after you’ve woken up and others are so elusive you can’t for the life of you remember what they were?
This evening several of us from work went to a concert at the Royal Festival Hall. The English Arts Chorale had chosen two major works (both by chance from 1874) to celebrate its 30th anniversary: Verdi’s Requiem and Tchaikovsky’s piano concerto No. 1. I decided to go because I know I don’t make the most of what London has to offer – and as an ex-pianist I don’t go to enough classical music concerts. By the way, this is the first time I’ve referred to myself as an EX-pianist. After listening to Tom Poster play the Tchaikovsky piano concerto (from memory, I have to add) I realised that those days are long gone… I did my grade 8 in 1991 and haven’t really played since. Why? I don’t have a piano. Apparently there wasn’t enough space in our flat for a piano (nonsense). These days when I sit at a keyboard, I can remember the opening bars of a Chopin waltz, the opening bars of a Schubert impromptu, and a few bars of Careless Whisper and that’s about it. Scales? Arpeggios? Anything technical? Forget it.