"You come most carefully upon your hour..."

 You can be many things in a professional orchestra, but you can't ever be late.

That's true in the sense that you have to play in tempo as well, but even more than keeping time you must show up on time for rehearsals and concerts. And five minutes beforehand is not on time.

It actually is contractually late in most places to be there only five minutes ahead of time. You're required by your work rules to be in your seat, prepared to play, and in proper dress code five minutes before the service is scheduled to start. 

This ethic isn't enforced through the work rules, though. It's an unspoken culture that gets ingrained in you from the very beginning. You MUST be on time. For most people that means being in the building a half-hour before the "shift" starts. 

It's a good way to do business. Even when the unthinkable happens (traffic jam on the thruway, all the parking spots full in the garage) and you are rushing in twenty minutes later than usual you are still technically "on time."

But it's a very different world than the one that my students live in.

"I forgot." 

"The coffee line was really long."

"I couldn't find my music."

"I was talking to another professor."

But they finally got one up on me yesterday, or at least one of them did. I was ten entire minutes late to my first student's lesson. (Childcare handoff delayed due to traffic.) 

I've lost the moral high ground with that one. 

What art thou that usurps't this time of night?

 I've found transcendent inner peace.

The problem is that you can only get it at 4 in the morning.

I had a nice two week stretch of almost no evening concerts/rehearsals, and J and I both flipped our sleep schedules around so that we were in bed before 9 and getting up early. Very early.

We've been setting our alarms for 5:30, and I actually ended up downstairs at more like 4:30 most of last week. It's dark, cold, and completely silent.

It's amazing. There are no children around anywhere. No one is actively making any messes. I don't need to adjudicate any disputes over football card ownership. No one is spilling anything. No one is shouting. No one is banging away at Axel F on the piano. 

(We did the Kirkin' of the Tartan at church last week, and when I heard the bagpipes start to wheeze up I realized that I was expecting to hear Axel F. I've formed a conditioned response to obnoxiously loud noise and that lick.)

I pull an Americano, read the psalms for the day, and then write, read, and draw in my notebook. I do composition exercises in French and Greek. I sometimes pull on a coat and boots and see what planets are up outside with my telescope. I learn things about the moon, birds, plants, grammar, anatomy, Hebrew, and geology. The sheer silence is like soaking in a hot bath, even though it is very much the opposite of hot from my chair by the library window in mid-November.

A few nights ago I woke up and realized it was 3:30. I turned back over to go to sleep and then thought to myself--"I could read for an extra two hours if I got up now."

And I did. It's not at all like reading once the kids are in bed. They've used me up by that point. I can still think, but my ears are full of their noise and storm.

In the dark hours of the morning there hasn't been a single sound made yet, except for the grinding of beans and the hiss of the kettle.

J is loving it too. (Well, she doesn't love it, but she loves having her workout done before she sees any children.) We eat breakfast together and no one complains about the food or spills it down their front or uses their shirt as a napkin.

And then someone appears. (It's always Owen.) And he plays his morning Axel F. And we're happy to see him. I think we're more ready for him when we've had the quiet hours before he came down, and not after.

I don't think we can keep this up. I'm going to be playing too many concerts when I won't even get home until 11 or midnight.

But I think I am officially a morning person...

Double To-Dos

 Today is a long double day, a day on which I have a morning rehearsal and then seven hours of sitting around while waiting for the evening concert. 

I normally plan around these days and save unpleasant and tedious busywork for the time between that I can put my head down and plow through without either being distracted by small children or sacrificing family time for. 

The last few doubles have all had significant chunks of time dedicated to learning Dorico, the new music notation software that has replaced the (now-defunct) Finale. This was big news a few months ago among my composing/arranging friends, and I've been working through the tutorials for close to a month now.

The first day of it went very poorly. But it turns out that old dogs can at least partly get their heads around new tricks, and I just finished transcribing the final few bars of Dorico's "practice" composition. I might nearly be ready to write some actual choral music on the software. (One of the to-dos for my November long double is to figure out and write whatever it is that my choir is supposed to be doing for their Christmas music service.

I'm also sorting star charts and trying to get a fix on where I can find Algol tonight with Clifford. If you don't live at my house you might not be aware that we adopted a big red friend over the summer. Clifford is my 8" Dobsonian telescope, an admittedly large but powerful and impressive astronomy tool. The boys and I have checked out lunar craters, comets, planets, planetary moons, and deep space nebulae with Clifford on clear nights. Tonight I'll be back late and am going to attempt to "split" a binary star that is apparently simple to find. We'll see. Clifford lives in the shed that we built (also new over the summer) because not everyone thought he was an appropriate in-the-house object.

More time was devoted to punching the October budget numbers into Excel. Since Mint has been discontinued (hopefully to some happy software heaven in the company of Finale) I've had to learn how to do our budget all by hand. 

I also have a bunch of reading projects at the moment--finishing up book 6 of the Iliad, reading a history of the Assyrian empire, and a play in French. But even with all of the reading I brought and a couple of drawing projects, I think I might run out of work before I run out of afternoon.

And if that's the case, I might be just fine to sit out in the sunshine and do absolutely nothing. Winter is coming, and in not too many more weeks I might be snowed into this coffee shop on a long double. But for today there's sunshine and just the right amount of not quite enough to do.

Boethius, De Institutione Musica

(Boethius, had he lived in the modern world, would have been a conductor...) 

Nunc illud est intuendum, quod omnis ars omnisque etiam disciplina honorabiliorem naturaliter habeat rationem quam artificium, quod manu atque opere exercetur artificis. Multo enim est maius atque auctius scire, quod quisque faciat, quam ipsum illud efficere, quod sciat; etenim artificium corporale quasi serviens famulatur, ratio vero quasi domina imperat. Et nisi manus secundum id, quod ratio sancit, efficiat, frustra sit. Quanto igitur praeclarior est scientia musicae in cognitione rationis quam in opere efficiendi atque actu! Tantum scilicet, quatntum corpus mente superatur; quod scilicet rationis expers servitio degit. Illa vero imperat atque ad rectum deducit. Quod nisi eius pareatur imperio, expers opus rationis titubabit. Unde fit, ut speculatio rationis operandi actu non egeat, manuum vero opera nulla sint, nisi ratione ducantur. Iam vero quanta sit gloria meritumque rationis, hinc itellegi potest, quod ceteri ut ita dicam corporales artifices non ex disciplina sed ex ipsis potius instrumentis cepere vocabula. Nam citharoedus ex cithara, auloedu ex tibia, ceterique suorum instrumentorum vocabulis nuncupantur. Is vero est musicus, qui ratione perpensa canendi scientiam non servitio operis sed imperio speculationis adsumpsit. Quod scilicet in aedificiorum bellorumque opere videmus, in contraria scilicet nuncupatione vocabuli. Eorum namque nominibus vel aedificia inscribuntur vel ducuntur triumphi, quorum imperio ac ratione instituta sunt, non quorum opere servitioque perfecta. Tria igitur genera sunt, quae circa artem musicam versantur. Unum genus est, quod instrumentis agitur, aliud fingit carmina, tertium, quod instrumentorum opus carmenque diiudicat. Sed illud quidem, quod in instrumentis positum est ibique totam operam consumit, ut sunt citharoedi quique organo ceterisque musicae instrumentis artificium probant, a musicae scientiae intellectu seiuncti sunt, quoniam famulantur, ut dictum est; nec quicquam afferunt rationis, sed sunt totius speculationis expertes. Secundum vero musicam agentium genus poetarum est, quod non potius speculatione ac ratione, quam naturali quodam instinctu fertur ad carmen. Atque idcirco hoc quoque genus a musica segregandum est. Tertium est, quod iudicandi peritiam sumit, ut rythmos cantilenasque totumque carmen possit perpendere. Quod scilicet quoniam totum in ratione ac speculatione positum est, hoc proprie musicae deputabitur, isque est musicus, cui adest facultas secundum speculationem rationemve propositam ac musicae conventientem de modis ac rythmis deque generibus cantilenarum ac de permixtionibus ac de omnibus, de quibus posterius explicandum est, ac de poetarum carminibus iudicandi.

Now this ought to be understood, that every art and still every honorable discipline naturally would prefer reason to mere mechanical skill which by the hand and work of artisans is practiced. For it is much better and and more important to know what someone else makes, than to be able to make something which someone else understands; for even as mechanical skill labors like a slave, reason likewise rules as a mistress. And unless that hand acts according to what reason sanctions it basically acts in vain. 

How much more beautiful, therefore, is the conception of music in rational understanding than composition and performance! It is clearly as much superior as the mind is superior to the body; since clearly one lacking reason is in servitude. But reason orders and guides to what is correct, since unless reason's authority is obeyed the work (lacking reason) falters.

It happens, therefore, that critical thinking does not require the act of making, but that the mechanical works would be nothing unless they are guided by reason. Therefore how much more be the glory and merit of reason is understood in this, that those that I have thus named "mechanically skilled" not from their discipline but from their instruments themselves take their titles.

For they are "guitarists" from the guitar, "flutists" from the flute, and all the others are named by their own instruments. But the musician is he which takes for himself the knowledge of judging performance not by the servility of work but by the power of analysis.

Of course we see this in the work of architecture and of warfare. For buildings are inscribed and triumphs are led with the names of those by whose power are reason they were guided, not with the names of those by whose hands the work and the battles were completed.

Therefore there are three sorts which work about the art of music. The first type is those who perform on instruments, another which compose songs, and the third are those which judge the performers and the composers. But those to whom performance is given and whose whole work is consumed by it, such as the guitarists and those which on the organ or on other musical instruments ply their trade, are cut off from the understanding of musical knowledge; as was said earlier, they are practically servants. None of them use any reason, but they are entirely without the capacity for thought.

The second type of those making music is of the poets, which are not led by reason and critical thinking so much as by a certain innate instinct to composition. And therefore this type is also separate from the true musicians.

The third type is this, which acquire an expertise in judging, so that they are able to evaluate rhythms and songs and entire compositions. Since clearly this class is wholly grounded in reason and critical thought, it alone is uniquely named the "musical" type, and he is a musician to whom is present the skill to criticize and reason about modes and rhythms and about genres of songs and harmonies, about which has all been explained, and for judging the music of composers.

Owen on Shakespeare

 This is from my son Owen. He has asked me to make it a blog.

This is a poem called "Shakespeare at its worst"

In our park, Chimpanzees they hast none

I watchethed the birds migrate

They hath escapthed to warmer weather

And achieve nothingeth

Methinks I knoweth nothing about velocity. Eth.

They ought to just use a freight train. Eth.

London Trip 2024

 Tuesday, August 13th

Drove from Hanover down to Dulles and parked remotely. (One of the big hotels near the airport.) James deeply concerned about the possibility of long security queues, body searches, and forgetting luggage or passports. He might have actually been a little disappointed that it all went so smoothly. Those Diary of a Wimpy Kid books prepared him to run from TSA security or something. Easy and excited conversation bubbling between everyone on the trip down. Found food and coffee with over two hours until departure, alternated long walks around the terminal. James and I tried to match obscure country flags with names. He is better at this than I am.

Waiting for the shuttle from the hotel to the airport.

Finally on a plane!

James was nervous about riding a plane. (He flew to Atlanta as an infant, and hadn't been on one since.) Held his breath and clenched his hands through takeoff, then settled in easily with Despicable Me and many episodes of The Book of Boba Fett on the iPad. I read my Kindle and J never had a working TV screen in front of her. (James and I did both offer to switch, but the flight attendant promised she'd reset it any minute now...)

Wednesday, August 14th

Arrived at Heathrow at 7 AM local time, which felt like midnight to our bodies. Easy passage through Passport Control (just a scan of our passport) and then several trains to get connected to the Underground. Our Airbnb was in Islington, so we didn't need to change lines from the airport. About an hour ride (managed to stay awake), and then the hairiest hour or so of the trip for direction-finding since we didn't have any cell service and the offline maps hadn't downloaded correctly. Managed to find our key drop and then got pointed in the right direction to find our flat. J and James immediately sacked out, I went out again and tracked down some basic provisions from a Waitrose about 1/2 mile away with newly downloaded offline maps.

James was pretty much cooked for the rest of the day, but we all did get up and walk down to Camden Market to find a dinner out. Had some "Mesopotamian" ice cream (apparently made with orchids to give it an unusually stretchy/stable texture) and a shawarma wrap. James inhaled chicken and chips, J found a healthy grain bowl. 

Doom Bar from the can once back. (Cheers, Strike.) Everyone in bed by 8. Up in the middle of the night, but managed 8 hours in pieces.

"The Cornish beer tasted of home, peace, and long-gone security."

Breakfast at the flat

The view from our flat. (3rd story) The spire is St. Luke's.

Everyone is just trying to stay awake until 7 pm.

J didn't order any, but the man running the shop gave her a free sample and then came outside to find us and gave her a free dish. Confirmation that she DOES look great after 36 straight hours of traveling with hardly any sleep.

"Take a picture for Felix"

The canal at Camden Market

Dinner outdoors

Market fare

Thursday, August 15th

The first real day. James up around 10, and we had breakfast together in the flat. Took the Tube to Tower Hill and found the old Roman wall right away, then did the Tower of London Beefeater tour. The host (Yeoman Darren) was one of the highlights of the trip. It was an hour of continuous Dad jokes about medieval history. Found out at the end of his tour that his military background was actually as a musician (flute) in one of the bands. Walked through the St. Peter ad Vincula chapel after the tour, then did the entire White Tower. Skipped the Crown Jewels line (thanks for the heads up to Calvin) and Beauchamp Tower to find coffee and food. Ate by the Thames, crossed Tower Bridge, and found the Borough Market. (The note I have in my little writing pad is "J in paradise.") James had a mango smoothie, J bought a fancy jar of olive oil. Went to Waitrose again and did pizza and Prosecco at the flat for supper.

cum Trajano

Roman remains

The organ in St. Peter's chapel. Lord Wellington very much in evidence here.

One of the tower ravens.

The White Tower

Some of the armoury.

Jameses

Incongruous modern art in an 11th century building

Something to do with Taylor Swift.

James on the Thames

Crossing Tower Bridge

Glad to be out of the crush of people packed into the Tower sites

HMS Belfast

Not exactly ubiquitous anymore, but we did see some phone booths

Mango lassi. This kid missed his smoothies while we were away

Cozy dinner in the evening

Friday, August 16th

Slow morning (lots of reading), and then took a double decker bus to Tottenham Court Road. (Was surprised to find that James and J both preferred the bus to the tube!) Celebrating throughout that J was in shoes that held up to walking all day. Found Denmark Street and the Flying Horse, but they were not serving food. Made our way into Soho and ate pub food at the Three Greyhounds. Some people very nearly hangry by the time we ate. Went to the British Museum, which was hot and overcrowded but absolutely amazing. Did most of the Egyptian architecture, the Parthenon marbles, Egyptian mummies, and made a glancing pass through Greek coins, Cyprus, European coins, clocks, and the Sutton Hoo treasures. Took a walk with J in the evening to replenish stock of seltzer water.

On Denmark Street

Formerly the Tottenham

James' burger at the pub

J's fish and chips

Unexpectedly found an Amorino and relived some Paris memories

Summer in Soho

Library goals

The Rosetta Stone

The plaque says "Statue of Roy"

James found a cat

We were criminally rushed. Could've spent weeks in there. For some reason there are a bunch of cool photos that I took of the Astrolabe and the Sutton Hoo treasures that aren't showing up on Google photos. Will upload them later if I can figure out how to make it work.

Tash the Inexorable

Saturday, August 17th

This was J's great day. We were at the Borough Market all afternoon and basically just walked around buying food, splitting it three ways, and eating it. It was incredibly hot and crowded, so there was a short 45 minute respite in Southwark Cathedral. One small adventure that we had was finding that our toilet was running continuously that morning. I did a few of the small tricks that I knew to address it, but the actual plumbing for the flush mechanism was tiled off inside the wall. We messaged the flat owner about it, and she said this had never happened before. I promised myself (and James and J) that I would not spend any part of our vacation fixing a toilet. It ran all day when we were gone, but them somehow healed itself overnight. 

"If this is a land where toilets fix themselves, we are MOVING here." 

Not pictured in the food crawl are the loaf of sourdough potato and garlic bread, the pain au chocolate, and the strawberry soft serve.

Black Pig sandwiches

The line for these was bigger than the audience for most concerts I play

Sturnus vulgaris. It pooped on the sleeve of my white shirt.

Three minutes-old incredible donuts. (Especially the creme brûlée one)

We chanced upon a knitting circle

Peace in the midst of a sea of humanity

James was a great sport about the food crawl

Paella and sparkling rose. I took photos of the paella process, but they are somehow missing again...

Introverting

Choir rehearsal started about halfway through the escape

Replica of the Golden Hinge, Francis Drake's vessel for circumnavigating the globe

James with a bow chaser. (A long 9?)

In the Great Cabin

Up by the bowsprit. Not allowed on the rigging. 

Back for even more food--salt beef sandwiches.

Sunday, August 18th

We didn't have anything on the schedule today except for a 3:45 dinner reservation (for a traditional Sunday roast) at Blacklock, so we decided to take a long walk in the morning. We'd been taking public transportation to get into the heart of the city for every other trip, but made the 3-ish mile walk down to Covent Garden by foot. Despite trouble finding bathrooms we had a lovely time poking through the souvenir stalls and James found the Pooky he'd been looking for. We walked back and had to hurry to get changed into our Sunday best, then took the tube down to Philpot Lane for a roast. We hadn't eaten lunch on purpose, and then there was a long wait for our table. We ordered some drinks, and then received some more drinks when the waitress realized that our order hadn't gone into the kitchen. But then the food came and it was incredible. 

J popped in to the Church of the Holy Ghost to say the collect, but we otherwise skipped Sunday AM church

Heading up the spiral staircase at the Moomin Store in Covent Garden

Little My

I did not get a souvenir on this trip. But I stood in front of these old brass telescopes for a long time...

A year ago I ordered a martini in France and was given a tumbler of vermouth with a little gin splashed in, half a lemon peel, and ice cubes. I got some closure for that drink at Sunday dinner.

We're really happy but also really hungry.

Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, duck fat potatoes, roasted veggies. It was glorious.

Monday, August 19th

Today was the Eye day. This was the first and most important item on James' to-do list, and the line/process for it was formidable. Incredibly, we hadn't actually seen the Eye at any point yet--the curves of the Thames and the skyline kept it obscured. But Monday was all about the iconic views of the Eye, Big Ben, Parliament, and Westminster Abbey. After James and J rode the Eye (I did a big circuit up to the Millennium Bridge and back while they did the ride) we all walked the South Bank up to Blackfriars Bridge and then headed back towards Parliament along Fleet Street and the Strand. We read for a bit in Hyde Park, snacked on nuts and fruit, then grabbed a pint and the use of some bathrooms at The Two Chairmen. Then it was 5 and time for Evensong at Westminster Abbey. We were all impressed with how quickly a tourist attraction became a functional house of worship. J agreed to watch the first episode of Slow Horses that night once we were back and was immediately hooked. 

First glimpse of the Eye

First glimpse of Big Ben/Parliament

"I think they copied this from Big Bentley in Cars 2..."

View from underneath the Eye

Meanwhile, I went off to find Boadicea

And to see where Wardle/Ekwenski/Murphy all work...

Battle of Britain memorial

First pass through Trafalgar Square

(Dead) Lions

England expects that every man shall do his duty...

Meanwhile, James and J were very high

Very, very high up

And they found me waiting for them

Thinking of Aunt Martha...

The hall of justice

There were bird droppings all over Dr. Johnson

Thinking of Jane

James and any cat

Watching the Horse Guards from Hyde Park

J craving beauty and taking pictures

James craving something else, and turtling

Time for evensong

Our last glimpse before heading down into Westminster station

Tuesday, August 20th

Our last full day, and James was pretty much done at this point. The final "have to do" item on our agenda was to get the boys' LEGO passports stamped, so I walked back down to Bloomsbury while James and J spent the morning at the flat. I came back up through Mayfair/Regent's Park and had such a nice time of it that we all went to the park in the afternoon. Told that he could choose whatever in London he wanted for dinner that night, James opted for the same chicken and chips that he'd had the previous Wednesday, so we went home via Camden Market. (And I had really good duck lo mein.)

Quidditch statue

A two-story LEGO Big Ben

And a close to life-size LEGO double decker bus

Chinatown in Soho

The statue of Eros at Piccadilly Circus

Did not buy a suit. But had fun window shopping

No riots. Fortunately, in England, at any rate, education produces no effect whatsoever.

Regent's Park

Prepped for the last adventure out

We always find an Aldi when adventuring

Reading at the park

We basically just all took turns walking the circuit 

James insisted we take a picture of this panda for Owen's benefit

J's red curry at Camden Market

My duck lo mein

And a strawberries and cream for dessert

Wednesday, August 21st 

We had enough time in the morning after cleaning the flat to go out to a local diner and get a traditional English breakfast, and then took the Piccadilly line to Heathrow. And that was it! We spent 8 hours on the plane watching Slow Horses, then stood in a line, stood in another line, stood in another line, took a shuttle to the hotel, and finally got our van. We were back in Hanover before midnight.

It was a lot of things, as a trip. I don't know if it was what James expected. But he's definitely going to remember it. Owen and Felix were very happy to see us. And James was SO happy to see them. He lit up every time we FaceTimed them, and if nothing else, going to London told him a lot about how much he loves being home with his brothers. And we are glad to be back with them too.