A rare treat

Today was very much in need of something to make it bearable - it rained constantly, and blew a hoolie for most of the time, and I had nothing to take me out all day and so stayed in the house until evening - and that is not something I do very often. I tried to redeem the indoors time by making a big dish of Greek Beans - I'd bought some expensive and wonderfully creamy butter beans in a jar, and wanted to do something special with them. I've had beans cooked this way on the harbour-side in Chania, on Crete,  on more than one occasion and have put together a recipe that suits me best from a variety of online offerings. Anyway, I'd thought of freezing it in two batches to bring out for lunch some day I needed cheering, but then the thought took me that we could just eat them for our main meal today, when we were eating early because of going out at night. We ate between 3 and 4pm, they were totally delicious, we had a sinful dessert, and I've not eaten since.

The going out was to listen to music for a change, as opposed to making it, and it was totally joyous. The Scottish Chamber Orchestra is currently touring, and this year Dunoon's Queen's Hall was on their itinerary. They played Mozart (the Bassoon concerto), Schubert (6th Symphony) and Pastoral Suite by a Swedish 20th century composer, Lars-Erik Larsson, and from the very first notes I was filled with nostalgia for the years when I went to hear the SNO every Saturday evening and the Glasgow Proms every June, when I was there every evening for three weeks. It also struck me what a long time it is since I was accustomed to seeing and hearing an orchestra of adults, as most concerts I've attended in recent years have been school occasions. It was just a lovely evening of wonderful playing, valveless trumpets and natural horns and a conductor, Andrew Manze, who looked as if he'd be a joy to play for. My not-very-good photo shows the orchestra taking its final bows in the Queen's Hall in front of a wildly enthusiastic audience.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the country and in my extra photo, pinched from my son, granddaughter Catriona was receiving the music prize and a prize for the school Jazz band she's played with for years, with the sense that as she walked off the stage she was walking into her new life. I'm very proud of her and the confidence with which she faces her future. 

When we emerged from the hall we found that the rain had stopped - there were even some blue patches of sky. We stood talking to a friend outside the hall, at the centre of town, and looked at ... the empty street. I don't miss the drunken yells from the street that used to be a part of bedtime, but the silence that began with Covid has remained and now all we can hear at night are neurotic oyster-catchers on the shore. 

I think I need to get out more ...