Maxim

I've neglected my blog. Time to make amends. First, though:
Maxim Harold made a timely appearance on July 27th. He's a very noisy little chap, dislikes sleep and spends most of his time either eating or wailing. So not much sleep for this Mum and Dad. It's becoming increasing strange to have a such a small baby in the house when the other two children are really pretty huge now (Anezka 10,Malcolm 7).
My parents came for a not-so-whistle-stop tour right on cue three days before Maxim was born so I was like a cat on a hot tin roof for a week or so.

Mr Murray's Memorial

So, I've got myself a flight, so I'm off to the N.M concert in Edinburgh on 2 June (hope it's still on!). Only problem is, my flight goes to Newcastle - Auld Reekie was far FAR too expensive. I've spent an age trying to find suitable transport from Newcastle to Edinburgh - British public transport systems seem to confound me at every step, however I've finally discovered I can get a train ticket for 43.20GBP, a whole lot more than it used to be 15 years ago. If anyone happens to be going through Newcastle on 31 May at about 7.30pm... Maybe I'll hitch a lift. Sent off an email to St M's asking if they know of any accom for a weary central European traveller. So far they remain ominously quiet.

Perhaps the whole thing's been a figment of my imagination.

But it'll be nice to see Old Coates House again.

Anežka pushing her chin out at me, Malcolm screaming blue murder.

Playin me ole heart out.

It's finally Spring, the first daffodils have struggled up through the winter-beaten ground. Yellow flowers are my favourite, equally suitable for weddings and funerals. Other anonymous plants are tentatively pushing up rubbery green spikes, looking as if they'd shoot back underground at the next frost. We're curious to see what has survived. Dozens of bulbs, cuttings and other odds and ends were planted in early Autumn last year, so many I have no idea where anything is. Every evening, now the light lasts longer, is an adventure into the garden to see what's new among the rotting leaves of last year's swift autumn - winter transition. A myriad of unknown little plants cover the ground before the grass gets a hold and it all gets mown away. Spiders dash nervously over the bare ground, transparent mosquitoes and mayflies soak up the damp midday sunlight and shiver under cold stones at night.

The Band is 'playing away' in Prague tomorrow to play at a ceilidh in ancient Vysehrad, the fortress of the mediaeval Czech kings. It will be a long and gruelling event from 8 till late, playing for the over-enthusiastic Prague Caledonian Club, perfect in every detail (very unlike us - five rustic north-Bohemian mountain dwellers stretching the middle age spread).

And before I forget to add my voice to the madding crowd, Free Tibet and Sack Robert Mugabe.

It was Easter Monday a week or so ago, so we escaped the hullaballoo and went to Kutná Hora, a delightful town about 70 miles SE of here. Historic silver mining town, once the capital of this great yet little country. The pic shows the Town Hall.

Will post some pics (and hopefully an mp3 or something) of last weekend's big-time better-late-than-never St Patrick's Ball. The band was in good form I would say; put it this way, they wouldn't let us go home till nearly 3am.

Am trying to make rough plans to go to Edinburgh for a week or so for the NM event, but will have to wait and see.

In memoriam

Today I received, as did others, a circular from St Mary's about the memorial concert for Nigel. I was very moved to be asked to play the Strauss Metamorphosen with a reconstructed orchestra of ex-Nigel pupils, but I'll leave that to the professionals. However, I will try as much as I can to at least go, I owe it to him. But I must admit to being a little fraught at the prospect of seeing so many fellow pupils, who I haven't seen for maybe twenty years, all at the same time at such an emotional moment. The circular was sent to many who I have lost contact with, and now I find I don't have the courage to write to them. Why one requires courage to do such a thing I don't know. But, as I wrote in my reply to Ms Ellison (who she?),

"St Mary's has had a lasting and positive influence on many aspects of my life, and unknowingly provides me with inspiration and guidance today, even after so many years. I am indebted to those teachers who struggled to enable me to see and hear my way in the world, in particular Audrey Innes, Lyell Cresswell and Nigel Murray, whose recent death saddened me greatly."

I will try to go. It's far and expensive. But as I said, I owe it to the man. He tried against all odds to nurture in me an inner understanding of the violin. If I compare myself to his other pupils he had a particularly hard job with me, maybe he even lost the battle. But his approach, his teaching (and his enthusiasm for hillwalking) instilled in me a special appreciation of how valuable it is to have a musical understanding of the world we inhabit.

I will try to go.