at the weekend I had the great privelege to sit on my doorstep in the evening sunshine (two days on the trot in fact) with a cup of tea, surveying a lovely view of an old village street (which is actually quite like a sqaure) with a hill rising up in the background, while a brass band played just 20 metres infront of me.
pieces like Danny Boy, Shostakovich' Second Waltz and the lovely, if rather suprisingly provenanced (not sure if that's a verb but never mind), theme to Jurassic Park. It was positively magical.
Today I have been listening to the same stuff on YouTube (the clip of Danny Boy from Brassed Off is plain dangerous if you're a softy like me) and I have admitted to myself that I love this stuff.
Is this middle age?