What a con this so called "Tennessee Williams" is. There are at least two, Venus and Serena, that are way more tennisy. You couldn't make it up.

There's a new recording on Hyperion of Florence Price's piano quartet played by the Takács Quartet and Marc-André Hamelin, and it's so enjoyable; affectionate, playful and welcoming.
I suspect it takes time to learn how to play a neglected composer, and how to listen to them. This moves us on.

On Heptonstall Moor. Curlews coming to the boil all round me.

And now to start a needlepoint project for a friend.

Pierre-Laurent Aimard played book 2 of the Well-tempered Clavier at Bridgewater Hall, Manchester last night. I was pulled into the forward movement of the music. It became an urgent triumph by the end.

I want to walk up a hill into sunshine above the clouds. But is there a website that will tell me the height of the cloud tops near me? (UK)

I retire in 20 days. My task today is to see if everything still to do will fit. And then wonder about the stuff that doesn't. And all the thousands of things over the last 43 years that didn't fit, or shouldn't have been allowed to squeeze in.

The last of my final series of sermons will be based on Bonhoeffer: God is for us. Fits well with the Advent Christmas theme of Incarnation.

Starting to relearn Poulenc's first Novelette. So much going on in just a few minutes. It's micro-episodic. And often reminiscent of Mozart - not just this piece.

My travel plans have changed.

Caravaggio - just two paintings at the National Gallery - was great. John the Baptist’s executioner ordinary and horribly comfortable in his skin. Ursula calmly wondering.

I merely mention Caravaggio (in my first post here) and Italy score!

Off to see Caravaggio in the morning.