On the 3rd of October, this happened. After work, I took a lovely stroll through London, from Shaftesbury Avenue, down past the back of the the National Gallery, crossed Trafalgar Square, where I paused to photograph the sky, and enjoy one of the last weeks of post 6pm sunlight for the year, and then I kept going down to Embankment, crossed the Thames to the South Bank. There I met up with Gemma and we went to hear the London Philharmonic Orchestra, at the Royal Festival Hall (I also stopped into a shop and bought my Mum the comic book "Vader and Son").
The programme for the evening, War and Peace, consisted of Britten's Sinfonia da Requiem, William Walton's Viola Concerto and selections from Prokofiev's War and Peace. Given that I wasn't there to review it, merely to enjoy, or even just experience it, I didn't take notes so two and a bit months later I'm left simply with the memory of a good night out, listening to music, some of which I loved, some of which I wasn't so sure about. Orchestral music is shamefully foreign to me, but this was thoroughly enjoyable. I read the programme notes which were interesting and insightful, and I really do think they helped me engage and listen more intelligently.
I wish I had taken notes, because I remember that at the time, sitting there in the hall, surrounded by this great depth of sound, my brain filled with lots of thoughts, emotions and memories, only now I don't remember what they were. Its a shame, because maybe, just maybe, I thought something brilliant, but I guess it is ok not to hold on to everything, and let some experiences be most full in the moment, and to slowly fade away into the depths of memory. Perhaps they will resurface the next time I go to a concert.
**
Oh yeh, during my walk, I also took this photo of a bra hanging on the back of a garbage truck. It amused me. Villiers St, London, 3/10/12, approx 6:15pm
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