Without further blablabla, just a little piece of Sunday Music for Your entertainment : The City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (Ger., Eng.), conducted by John WILSON (born 1972) (Eng.), performs Haydn WOODs (1882-1959) (Ger., Eng.) London Landmarks III : The Horse Guards, Whitehall. I think they are close to swinging, just a little notch more … ?
Any way, swinging or just-swinging, I hope You enjoy the music, dear Readers : May the coming week be light ‘n easy !
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Obviously the photographer did not feel too well when he took this image. It’s some weeks old, things improved.
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Something grows in the gutter, or better : Study in Ecru.
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Little cheap sin.
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Sol lucet omnibus, so he did last Friday morning.
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Twice or thrice a week I receive a phone call in the evening by a man who once lived here, a former neighbour of many years. He is seriously ill, and his actual living situation in a facility is not good. But I do not know whether this explains the fact that the “conversations” over the last months became monologues. It follows the same pattern : He speaks about stuff that happened in the world, then switches to his surroundings (trouble with carers, discussion with doctors etc.), family stuff I do not want to know. The finale is a suada about his mistake to leave his appartement and move altogether.
Somewhere in between he may ask the obligatory “And how’s about you ?” – but in the middle of my answer (if it is longer than “Fine.”) he will start with his own grievances again.
When I start a sentence after he stopped speaking, this seems not to reach him. He will speak about something, related to what I am just saying or not. If I really want to say something, I do not stop in such a situation, and finish my sentence ignoring his chatter, perhaps rising my voice, when I start to become angry ; then he may stop and ask – he seems not to expect something like an answer at all. He could talk with a machine programmed to utter sounds like “hm hm”, “yes ?” or “really !”
Throw in some “Artificially Intelligence”, and the electric monk is ready for conversation.
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My teeth are so white now, when the vehicle’s headlamps fail I just need to flash a toothy grin for returning safely tonight.
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The landlord (a pretty large company) notified the inmates that starting from this Monday onwards, the public spaces in the building (floors, stairs) will be painted and repaired. This includes the rooms in the basement where washing machines and driers are installed. And where for months a downpipe drips & drips & drips, just a question of time before the thing will leak seriously and crack open. I am sure a lick of paint will cheer the room up when the stinky mess finally floods the cellar.
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Ach – a depressing image to end this post with, so let’s listen to some music evoking a nicer one : The Academy of St Martin in the Fields (Ger., Eng., website) under Sir Neville MARRINER (1924-2016) (Ger., Eng.) performs the second movement : Pavane from Peter Warlock’s (1894-1930) (Ger., Eng.) Capriol Suite (1926) (Ger., Eng.).
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Rain, sleet, wind. First blossoming blooms, mostly yellow. From the bed of suffering to the daily grind, the last week was a bit demanding. I hope this one will be less exhausting, I just get used to it again.
I am tired, and not in the mood for talk, so let’s listen to Sunday Music : Today it is the title Na Sombra Da Mangueira (In The Shade Of The Mango Tree), composed by Luiz BONFÁ (1922-2001) (Ger., Eng.), performed by Carlos BARBOSA-LIMA (1944-2022) (Ger., Eng.). May it bring lightness to these strange times, I hope you like the music. May the week be bearable.
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63 mago 