John Donne to Ravi Shankar

Here's a fine non-writing day for you. Starting with reading the papers, we headed off late morning for the neighbouring village of Blunham. John Donne used to spend his summers there, and he'd have recognized our walk. It followed the winds of the River Ivel, six species of damsel flies darting their colours in the air around our heads and feet. The summer flowers of England gathered in banks of colour, the way leading on through old farmyards and along lanes to the meeting point of two rivers. Idyllic.

Back home for a roast lunch of chicken, outdoors. Then a stroll along the local stretch of the Ivel to the railway station, a train to London, a stroll across the capital, and an evening at the Royal Opera House.

This was for a concert by Ravi shankar. Aged 82, he took the stage with his daughter, a master sitarist herself at only 21 years of age. For the first half of the concert I was intrigued but puzzled, not really kowing what to do as a member of the audience. After the interval the music gripped me by the sides of the head and took hold. The inventiveness and energy of Ravi Shankar was truly astonishing. The concert effected me like music never has before. It was truly a transcendental experience. How fine to be brought to the point of weeping for beauty and creativity.

And so to the fresh air of home in Sandy once again - even the train connections worked for once. It's great to have a day out touched by such wonder.

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