Higher and Higher

I haven't had much to say for a week or so. It's been a bit depressing apart from a visit from Ruth on Friday. Oh and Nick was here on Saturday. But today was such a beautiful, such a perfect day that my spirits soared. The sky was a peerless blue, the sun warm, the air as still as it could be, not a flicker of movement to disturb it. Someone ran by with a dog on a lead, not a skinny person but judging by the sweat glistening on her face and bare arms she'd been going for a while. Then six cyclists passed the house as I stood on the lane sniffing the glorious scent of my winter-flowering viburnum, currently in full blossom. One by one they called Good Morning, and I replied to each of them, saving a "Lovely morning isn't it?" for the last of them. Two horses were next as I took photos of the autumn leaves. And then it was quiet, no, silent, as peaceful as it can get when insects and birds are full of the joys of life but no human moves. I went for a gentle walk in the sunshine, along the lane and down the hill as far as the big oak tree. It was the first time I'd been out for over two weeks, and it felt so good to be walking. I was easing myself back into the world because I was ushering at 3pm.

Over the field beside my house

Same old same old, buty I never get tired of taking this shot

Behind me

Sunset on Saturday, but it was much redder

But what happened when I drove towards the coast? Fog. Horrible dense fog blotting out the sun and chilling the air. My plans to eat my lunch on a seat in the sun at Snape came to nothing. It didn't really matter. The concert was Imogen Cooper playing a programme of Chopin, and it couldn't have come at a better time for me. I manned the main upstairs door so that I could make a discreet exit if the coughing started, but the sweets I sucked throughout did the trick. It felt like a dream world up there, gazing down at this brilliant pianist who played pieces I've been familiar with since my teens. Sitting next to me was a real Suffolk old "buoy", an ex-gardener he told me, who I knew was a regular at Snape though I'd never encountered him before. He told me he thought he'd like to be an usherette (sic) but didn't fancy driving all the way from Ipswich every time he was on duty. I wondered why this would be a problem since he clearly did the drive often enough anyway, and as an usher his concerts would be free. But he was concerned about me living in the middle of nowhere (at my age implied) and wouldn't I be better moving into Ipswich as he had done to be near the hospital and on the bus service. I told him I don't like people, and I hate noise and traffic and towns, and he laughed. But I was curious about him. How long had he loved music (classical implied)? And he told me he used to have terrible asthma which nearly killed him, but in his late 30s he accidently came across some lovely music and discovered Radio 3, and after a while his asthma disappeared for good. Two years ago he was diagnosed with cancer, so he bought a ticket for every concert going at Snape, and within a year the cancer had gone. We both marvelled at the power of music, which is capable of curing terrible diseases as well as lifting you to a plain so high just being there can make you dizzy.